Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF46A001RXY5CA1KSXF842

The Raven's Nest was exactly as she remembered it, down to the way the green neon sign buzzed faintly in the damp London air. Rory pushed through the heavy wooden door, the familiar scent of whiskey and old wood wrapping around her like a blanket. She'd been delivering to Silas for three months now, but this was the first time she'd actually stepped inside as a customer. The bar was nearly empty at this hour, just a few regulars hunched over their drinks. Silas stood behind the counter, polishing glasses with the same methodical precision he brought to everything. His grey-streaked auburn hair caught the light as he turned, and for a moment, Rory thought she saw recognition flicker across his face. "Silas?" she said, surprised by how small her voice sounded. He looked up, and the polishing cloth stilled in his hands. "Aurora Carter. I'll be damned." He set the glass down carefully. "Or should I call you Rory now?" She moved closer, noting the slight limp in his left leg as he came around the bar. "Rory's fine. It's been a long time." "Thirteen years," he said, pulling her into an embrace that felt both foreign and familiar. "You look exactly the same. Well, except for the hair. You've grown it out." Rory ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair self-consciously. "I was thinking about cutting it again, actually." "Don't you dare." Silas released her and gestured to a booth in the corner. "Sit. Tell me everything. Last I heard, you were studying Pre-Law at Cardiff." She settled into the worn leather seat, suddenly aware of how much had changed since they'd last spoken. "I dropped out. After everything with Evan..." She trailed off, not wanting to revisit that particular chapter. Silas's expression darkened. "That bastard. I should have known something was wrong when you stopped coming around." "I needed to get away. Eva convinced me to move to London, and here I am." Rory shrugged, trying to make it sound more casual than it felt. "I'm delivering for Golden Empress now. It pays the bills." "Delivering?" He looked genuinely surprised. "But you were always so driven. So smart." "Life happens," she said, a little more sharply than intended. "Not everyone gets to retire early and open a bar, Silas." The words hung between them, and Rory immediately regretted them. Silas had been her father's closest friend, had practically been an uncle to her growing up. But thirteen years was a long time, and people changed. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "That was uncalled for." "No, it's fine." Silas leaned back, studying her with those sharp hazel eyes that had always seemed to see right through her. "I suppose I have changed. The knee injury in Prague saw to that." "Prague?" Rory frowned. "I thought you retired from... whatever it was you did." "Retired is one word for it." He smiled wryly. "Let's just say I'm no longer running operations, but I still have contacts. The bar's a good front." Rory's mind raced, trying to reconcile this new information with her memories of Silas as a mysterious but benevolent presence in her childhood. "You were in intelligence? Like, MI6?" "Something like that." He waved a hand dismissively. "Ancient history now. Tell me about you. What's this I hear about an abusive ex?" The question caught her off guard. "How did you—" "Word gets around, especially in my line of work." Silas leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Rory, if you're in trouble, you need to tell me. I might not be in the field anymore, but I can still help." She wanted to accept his offer, to let herself fall back into the safety of his protection like she had when she was a teenager. But she'd spent the last two years learning to stand on her own two feet. "I'm not in trouble. Not anymore. Evan's gone, and I've got Eva looking out for me." "Eva's a good kid," Silas acknowledged. "But she's not equipped to handle someone like Evan if he comes back around." "He won't." Rory's voice was firmer than she felt. "I made sure of that." The unspoken implication hung in the air. Silas's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't press. Instead, he reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. "I'm glad you're safe. Truly. But if you ever need anything, anything at all, you call me. Day or night." "I will." She squeezed his hand, feeling the silver signet ring he always wore press against her skin. "I've missed you, Silas. I'm sorry I disappeared on you." "You were a kid dealing with adult problems." He squeezed back. "I should have reached out sooner. Kept tabs on you." "You had your own life." Rory pulled her hand back, suddenly needing the distance. "So, the bar. How did you end up here?" Silas settled back, and Rory could see the way he was assessing her, trying to determine how much to reveal. "After Prague, I knew I couldn't go back to fieldwork. Too many injuries, too many close calls. But I still had contacts, still had information that people wanted. Opening the bar gave me a legitimate way to maintain those connections without raising suspicion." "And the back room?" Rory nodded toward the bookshelf that concealed the secret meeting space she'd discovered during one of her deliveries. "That's for private consultations." His lips twitched in a half-smile. "Nothing illegal, if that's what you're thinking. Just... discreet." Rory thought about the coded conversations she'd overheard, the way certain customers always asked for Silas personally. "I always knew there was something different about you. Even when I was little, you were never quite like the other adults." "I tried to protect you from all that." Silas's expression grew serious. "Your father would have killed me if he knew I was filling your head with stories of my adventures." "Dad never understood why you left the family business." Rory's father had been a barrister, like she'd originally planned to become. "He thought you were wasting your potential." "Your father and I saw the world very differently." Silas's tone made it clear this was not a topic he wished to discuss further. "But enough about me. What are your plans now? You can't deliver Chinese food forever." The question stung more than it should have. Rory looked down at her hands, at the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist—a childhood accident that had required Silas to drive her to the emergency room. "I don't know. I haven't really thought that far ahead." "Bullshit." Silas's voice was gentle but firm. "You always have a plan, Aurora. Even when you were six years old, you had a five-year plan for your lemonade stand empire." She couldn't help but smile at the memory. "I'd forgotten about that." "I haven't." He reached across the table again, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. "You're better than this, Rory. You're surviving, but I know you. You're meant to be thriving." The intensity of his belief in her was almost overwhelming. Rory felt tears prick at her eyes and blinked them back. "It's not that simple, Silas. I've got baggage, responsibilities. Eva depends on me, and I can barely cover my half of the rent as it is." "Then let me help." He pulled a business card from his pocket and slid it across the table. "This isn't charity. Think of it as an investment. I've got a contact who needs someone with your particular set of skills. Smart, resourceful, able to think on their feet." Rory picked up the card, noting the elegant script that simply read "Malcolm Reeve" and a phone number. "What kind of skills?" "The kind that can't be taught in law school." Silas's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Though I'm sure you would have excelled there too." She tucked the card into her pocket, feeling the weight of possibility settle in her chest. "I'll think about it." "That's all I ask." Silas stood, offering her his hand. "Now, how about that drink? My treat, for old times' sake." Rory let him pull her to her feet, suddenly exhausted by the emotional weight of the conversation. "Just a soda, please. I'm still on the clock." "Coming right up." He guided her to the bar, his hand warm and steady at her elbow. "You know, you never did tell me why you started going by Rory instead of Aurora." She settled onto a barstool, the vinyl creaking beneath her. "Aurora was his favorite name for me. After everything, I couldn't stand to hear it." Silas was quiet for a moment as he poured her drink. "I'm sorry, Rory. I truly am. No one should have to go through what you did." "Thanks." The word felt inadequate, but it was all she could manage. He set the glass in front of her, his fingers brushing hers as he passed it over. "You're stronger than you know. And you're not alone anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." Rory wrapped her hands around the cold glass, letting the condensation seep into her skin. For the first time in years, she felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel since leaving Cardiff: hope. Maybe it wasn't too late to become the person she was meant to be. Maybe some bridges, even those burned by time and circumstance, could still be rebuilt.