Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMM23JNVK8P506RSSMCFM9

The Raven’s Nest smelled of aged whiskey and damp wood, the kind of place where secrets lingered like the scent of old parchment. The neon green sign above the door pulsed faintly, casting a sickly green glow over the dimly lit room. Aurora Carter—Rory—stood at the bar, her fingers tracing the edge of a glass she hadn’t touched yet, her bright blue eyes scanning the crowd. She was wearing a dark green sweater, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and her black hair was pulled back into a loose braid, the way she always did when she was tired. She had been here for hours, watching the world go by, waiting for someone who hadn’t come. Then she saw him. Silas Blackwood leaned against the counter, his silver signet ring catching the light as he sipped from a glass of something amber and strong. His auburn hair, streaked with gray, was slightly tousled, and his hazel eyes held a quiet intensity that made Rory’s breath catch. She recognized the way he carried himself—quiet, deliberate, like he was always waiting for something. Like he was still in the game. She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. He didn’t look at her first. Instead, he raised his glass in a slow, deliberate gesture, as if he were waiting for her to make the first move. “You’re here,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. Silas set his glass down with a faint clink. “Of course I’m here. You’re at my bar.” Rory’s jaw tightened. “I know.” A beat of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. The kind of silence that had been between them for years, the kind that had hardened into something else. She remembered the way he used to look at her—like she was the only person in the room who mattered. Now, it was just another face in the crowd. “You look different,” she said finally. Silas didn’t flinch. “And you look the same.” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “I don’t know what you mean.” He turned his head slightly, his gaze flickering over her face. “You’re thinner. Your hair’s different. You don’t look like the same person who left me in London.” Rory’s fingers curled around the glass, the ice cold against her skin. “I left because I had to.” “And now?” Now she was a delivery person at Yu-Fei Cheung’s Golden Empress, working her way through the night to pay off debts she didn’t want to acknowledge. Now she lived in a flat above Silas’ bar, barely able to afford the rent. Now she was Rory again, but Rory who had learned to survive on her own. Silas didn’t press. He just watched her, as if he were waiting for her to tell him something she hadn’t told herself in years. “You’re not the same,” she said instead. “You’re older. Your hair’s gray. You limp when you walk.” He smiled, a slow, knowing thing. “I’m still the same Silas.” She wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him how much she missed him, how much she missed the way he used to make her laugh. But the words stuck in her throat, heavy and unspoken. “Why are you here?” she asked. Silas turned away from the counter, his limp more pronounced as he moved. He pulled out a chair for her, the kind of gesture that used to make her heart race. Now it just made her feel like she was being set up for something. “Because I’m always here,” he said. “For you.” The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Rory wanted to snap at him, to tell him he was wrong, that she hadn’t needed him anymore. But the truth was, she had. She had needed him then, and she still needed him now, in a way she couldn’t quite name. She sat down, her fingers brushing against the armrest. “What do you want?” Silas didn’t answer right away. He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled. “I want to know what happened to you.” Rory’s stomach twisted. “I don’t know what you mean.” “You left London. You left me. For someone who didn’t deserve you.” The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She had left Evan, yes, but she hadn’t left Silas. She had just thought she had. She had thought she could do it on her own. “You don’t know what I went through,” she said, her voice breaking. “You don’t know what it was like.” Silas set his glass down with a quiet clatter. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Rory stared at him, her mind racing. “You lost someone?” He nodded, his expression unreadable. “My wife. She died in Prague.” Rory’s breath caught. “Oh.” Silas didn’t look away. “I was there. I was supposed to be protecting her. And I failed.” The weight of it settled between them, heavy and unspoken. Rory had failed too. She had failed Evan, and she had failed Silas. She had failed herself. “You were supposed to be protecting me,” she said softly. Silas exhaled, a slow, weary breath. “I was. And I still am.” She wanted to tell him that she didn’t believe him. She wanted to tell him that she had moved on, that she had found her own way. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she said, “You’re not the same person who sent me away.” Silas smiled again, but it was different now. It was sad. “I’m still the same person who wants to help you.” The bar was quiet around them, the hum of conversation and laughter fading into the background. Rory looked around, her eyes scanning the faces she didn’t know, the people who had changed while she had stayed the same. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go home, to her flat above Silas’ bar, to her job at the restaurant, to the life she had built for herself. But she couldn’t move. “Why are you really here?” she asked. Silas turned to her, his gaze intense. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” The words settled over her, heavy and final. Rory wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong. But she also wanted to believe him. “You’re not,” she said softly. Silas reached across the bar, his hand brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her, familiar and strange at the same time. He pulled her chair closer, his voice low and steady. “You’re not the same person who left me,” he said again. “But you’re still me.” Rory looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But she also wanted to stay. She reached up, her fingers brushing against his beard. “What do you want from me?” Silas smiled, his gaze softening. “Just to know that you’re okay.” And in that moment, Rory realized that she wasn’t. She had been okay once. She had been okay when she was young and full of dreams and possibilities. But now, she was just Rory, trying to keep her head above water in a world that had changed while she had stayed the same. She looked at Silas, at the man who had once been her mentor, her friend, her protector. And she realized that she had never really left him. She just had to find her way back.