Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQQSNQZ921X5G0NHVRGPMY

The Raven's Nest hummed with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of jazz from a hidden speaker. The green neon sign outside cast a ghostly glow through the windows, painting the patrons in shades of emerald. Aurora Carter, known to most as Rory, slipped through the door, her eyes scanning the room with a practiced ease. She wore a leather jacket over her delivery uniform, the logo of Golden Empress peeking out from beneath. Her bright blue eyes, sharp and observant, settled on the bar where Silas Blackwood stood, his presence commanding even in the dim light. "Rory," Silas greeted, his voice a gravelly rumble that matched the bar's ambiance. He leaned slightly on his good leg, the other still bearing the weight of old injuries. "You're early." "Thought I'd grab a drink before the shift," Rory replied, sliding onto a stool. Her fingers brushed the crescent scar on her wrist, a subconscious habit when she was deep in thought. Silas nodded, pouring her a glass of something amber and warm. "On the house." She took a sip, savoring the burn. "Thanks, Si." The door swung open again, and a gust of cold air swept through the bar. Rory turned, her gaze catching on a figure framed in the doorway. He was tall, with a lean build and a face that seemed both familiar and foreign. His hair, once a wild mane of curls, was now cropped short, and his eyes, once full of mischief, held a shadow of something she couldn't quite place. "Evan," she breathed, the name slipping out before she could stop it. He hesitated, his eyes meeting hers with a flicker of recognition. "Rory." The name hung between them, a bridge to a past neither had fully left behind. He approached, his movements cautious, as if testing the waters of an uncertain sea. "Didn't expect to see you here," Rory said, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of memories. "Same," Evan replied, taking the seat beside her. "I heard you were in London, but I didn't think..." "That we'd run into each other?" Rory finished for him, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Small world." Silas watched them with a knowing look, his hands busy polishing a glass. "Old friends?" "Something like that," Rory answered, her eyes never leaving Evan's face. Evan chuckled, though it lacked the warmth she remembered. "Yeah, something like that." Silas moved away, giving them space, his limp barely noticeable as he disappeared into the back room. The bar seemed to close in around them, the noise fading to a distant hum. "You've changed," Rory observed, her gaze tracing the lines of his face, the set of his jaw. "So have you," Evan countered, his eyes lingering on her scar. "But some things stay the same." "Like what?" "Like the way you look at people. Always trying to figure them out." Rory shrugged, a hint of defiance in her posture. "Old habits." Evan nodded, his expression softening. "I missed that." Silence settled between them, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Rory took another sip of her drink, the warmth spreading through her chest. "Why are you here, Evan?" she asked, cutting through the quiet. He hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the bar. "I needed a change. Thought London might be a good place to start over." "Running away again?" "Maybe," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "But it's different this time." "How so?" "I'm not running from you," he said, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that surprised her. "I'm running towards something." Rory considered his words, the sincerity in his eyes. "And what is that?" "Redemption, I guess. A chance to make things right." She studied him, the years of distance and silence falling away. "Do you think that's possible?" "I hope so," Evan replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to believe it is." Rory nodded, the tension between them easing, if only slightly. "It's not easy, you know. Facing the past." "I know," he said, a shadow passing over his features. "But I have to try." They sat in silence, the noise of the bar slowly creeping back in. Rory glanced at the clock, the hands ticking towards the start of her shift. "I should go," she said, sliding off the stool. "Work." Evan stood, his movements mirroring hers. "Can we talk again? Properly, I mean." She hesitated, the past and present colliding in her mind. "Maybe." He nodded, accepting the uncertainty. "I'll be around." Rory turned to leave, her heart a mix of emotions she couldn't quite untangle. As she reached the door, she paused, looking back at him. "Evan," she called, her voice carrying across the room. He looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "Take care of yourself," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "You too, Rory," he replied, his voice warm with gratitude. She stepped out into the night, the cold air biting at her skin. The streets of Soho stretched out before her, a labyrinth of possibilities and paths yet to be taken. As she walked, the weight of the past felt lighter, the promise of the future just within reach.