Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMQVZ05S6448PBS04GFCTE1

The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest cast an eerie glow on the wet pavement of Soho. Inside, the bar was dimly lit, its walls adorned with old maps and black-and-white photographs that seemed to watch over the patrons with silent judgment. It was early evening, and only a few regulars dotted the space, nursing drinks and lost in thought. Silas Blackwood stood behind the polished mahogany bar, wiping a glass with methodical precision. At 58, his grey-streaked auburn hair and neatly trimmed beard gave him a distinguished appearance, while his hazel eyes missed nothing. He moved with a slight limp, the legacy of a knee injury sustained during his MI6 days in Prague. The silver signet ring on his right hand glinted in the low light as he set the glass down. The door creaked open, and Aurora Carter stepped inside, shaking rain from her straight shoulder-length black hair. Her bright blue eyes swept across the room before landing on Silas. At 25, she carried herself with a confidence that belied her age, though the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist was a visible reminder of her past. "Evening, Silas," she said, sliding onto a stool. "Rory," he nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. "The usual?" "Please," she replied, watching as he poured her a whiskey. "Slow night?" "Always is before the rush." He studied her face. "You look tired." "Long day of deliveries. Yu-Fei had me running all over London." As they talked, the door opened again, and a man stepped in, removing his coat with deliberate slowness. He was tall, with an expensive suit and a carefully cultivated air of success that seemed too studied for the casual atmosphere of The Raven's Nest. His eyes scanned the room before landing on Rory with a flicker of recognition. "Rory Carter?" he asked, approaching the bar. "It's been what, five years?" Rory turned, and her cool demeanor faltered for just a second. "Evan." Evan Davis had been her boyfriend during her university days in Cardiff, and the reason she had fled to London with Eva's help. He'd always been ambitious, but the man before her was far removed from the charming law student she'd once known. His features were sharper, his eyes colder, and the expensive watch on his wrist screamed of new money. "Small world," Evan said, taking the seat next to her. "Can I buy you a drink?" "I'm fine, thanks," Rory replied, her voice carefully neutral. Silas watched the interaction, his body tense. He knew Rory's history with Evan, knew about the abuse that had sent her running from Cardiff. His hand moved subtly to rest near the phone below the bar. "I heard you dropped out of law school," Evan said, signaling to Silas for a whiskey. "Such a waste. Your father was devastated." Rory's jaw tightened. "I didn't drop out. I changed paths." "To what? Delivering food for a Chinese restaurant?" Evan laughed, a harsh sound that drew attention from the other patrons. "Come on, Rory. You were destined for better things." "I'm happy," she said, her fingers tracing the scar on her wrist unconsciously. "That's more than I can say for when we were together." Evan's smile tightened. "People change. I've changed." "Have you?" Rory met his gaze directly, her bright blue eyes challenging him. "Or have you just gotten better at hiding who you really are?" The tension between them was palpable, thick with years of unspoken words and unresolved history. Silas subtly shifted his position, ready to intervene if needed. "I heard about your father," Evan said, his tone softening. "I'm sorry about the heart attack." Rory's expression softened slightly. "Thank you. He's recovering well." "And your mother? Still teaching in Cardiff?" Rory nodded. "Yes. She's good." Silas watched as the conversation shifted, seeing the way Evan's carefully constructed facade began to crack, revealing glimpses of the man Rory had once known—the one who had made her laugh, who had shared her dreams before ambition had twisted him into someone else. "I think about you sometimes," Evan said, his voice lowering. "About what might have been." "Nothing would have been," Rory replied quietly. "We wanted different things." "Did we? Or were you just afraid?" Evan leaned closer, his eyes searching hers. "Afraid of being ordinary? Afraid that you'd never live up to your father's expectations?" Rory flinched as if struck. "You don't know anything about me anymore." "Don't I?" Evan challenged. "I see you still run when things get difficult. Still hiding in London rather than facing your life." Silas cleared his throat pointedly. "Another drink, sir?" Evan glanced at Silas, taking in the older man's imposing presence and the silver signet ring that seemed to carry an unspoken warning. "No, I should be going." He stood, pulling out a business card. "In case you ever want to talk. Or if you reconsider your career path. I know people at top firms who'd be interested in someone with your background." Rory took the card without looking at it. "Goodbye, Evan." After he left, the bar felt different, charged with the energy of the confrontation. Silas refilled Rory's glass without asking. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle. Rory stared at the amber liquid in her glass. "He was right about one thing. I am hiding." "Everyone hides from something," Silas replied, his hand resting on the bar near hers. "The question is whether you're hiding from something outside or something inside." Rory looked up at him, her bright blue eyes meeting his hazel ones. In that moment, she saw not just Silas the bar owner, but Silas the former intelligence operative, the man who understood secrets and the weight they carried. "I left Cardiff to escape him," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes I wonder if I escaped anything at all." Silas nodded slowly. "Time doesn't heal all wounds, Rory. It just changes how we carry them." As the evening crowd began to filter in, Rory sat at the bar, the business card from Evan lying discarded beside her glass. The weight of five years pressed down on her shoulders, and for the first time since fleeing Cardiff, she wondered what it would take to truly stop running.