Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQSEBPMZ6V8M4YDFZ0DE5D

The Raven’s Nest smelled of aged whiskey and lemon polish, the kind of scent that clung to the walls like a second skin. Rory wiped her hands on her jeans, the damp chill of the London evening still clinging to her fingers. She hadn’t meant to come in—just another delivery for Yu-Fei, another envelope slipped under the bar’s back door—but the neon sign had flickered in the corner of her eye, green and insistent, and before she knew it, her boots were scuffing against the worn floorboards. She didn’t see him at first. The bar was half-empty, the kind of quiet that settled in the lull between the after-work crowd and the late-night stragglers. Then the stool creaked. “Christ. Rory Carter.” The voice was rougher than she remembered, the edges worn smooth by time. She turned. Evan leaned against the bar, one elbow propped up like he owned the place. His hair was shorter now, buzzed close to his skull, and the stubble along his jaw had thickened into something darker, more deliberate. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been all sharp edges and restless energy. Now, he looked like he’d been sanded down, the angles of his face softer, but his eyes—those hadn’t changed. Still that same pale grey, still watching her like she was a puzzle he’d already solved. She swallowed. “Evan.” He grinned, slow and easy, like they were picking up right where they left off. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you in here again.” “Yeah, well.” She shrugged, shifting the weight of her bag. “Things change.” “Not you, though.” His gaze flicked over her, lingering on the crescent scar at her wrist before snapping back up. “Still got that same look. Like you’re about to bolt.” She bristled. “I don’t bolt.” “No?” He tilted his head, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Could’ve fooled me.” The air between them thickened, heavy with everything they weren’t saying. Rory exhaled through her nose, forcing her shoulders to relax. “What are you doing here, Evan?” “Same as you, I reckon.” He nodded toward the door. “Passing through.” “Right.” She didn’t believe him. Evan had never been the type to just pass through anywhere. He stayed. He dug in. He left marks. He must’ve seen the doubt on her face because he smirked, tapping his fingers against the bar. “You still working for that Chinese place?” “Golden Empress. And yeah.” “Still delivering secrets in takeout boxes?” She stiffened. “It’s food, Evan.” “Sure it is.” He leaned in, just enough that she caught the scent of him—whiskey and something sharper, like gun oil. “You always did have a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time.” Rory’s fingers curled into her palms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” He sat back, spreading his hands. “Just saying. You disappear for years, then pop up in the one bar in London that’s basically a front for spies. Funny how that works.” She wanted to snap at him, to tell him he didn’t know the first thing about where she’d been or what she’d done. But the words stuck in her throat. Because he wasn’t wrong. The Raven’s Nest *was* a front. And she *had* been delivering more than just dumplings lately. Evan’s smirk faded, his expression turning thoughtful. “You ever think about how different things could’ve been?” “No.” “Liar.” She glared at him. “I don’t have time for this.” “For what? The truth?” He leaned forward again, his voice dropping. “You left, Rory. No warning, no note. Just gone. And now you’re back, acting like nothing happened.” “Because nothing *did* happen.” The lie tasted bitter. “We were kids. It was a long time ago.” “Bullshit.” His jaw tightened. “You ran because of me.” She opened her mouth to deny it, but the words died on her tongue. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Evan’s gaze softened, just for a second. “I’m not the same person I was back then.” “Neither am I.” “Could’ve fooled me.” He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. She flinched, and he pulled back like he’d been burned. “Still jumpy, I see.” Rory forced a laugh, but it came out hollow. “Old habits.” Evan studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers like he was trying to memorize her face. Then he sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You ever wonder if we just… got it wrong? If we were too young to know what we wanted?” She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. He nodded like she had, draining the last of his drink. “Yeah. Me too.” The bar’s door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the murmur of voices. Rory turned, grateful for the interruption. Silas stood in the doorway, his hazel eyes sharp as they flicked between her and Evan. “Rory,” Silas said, his voice low and even. “You’re late.” She exhaled, relief flooding her chest. “Right. Sorry.” Evan’s gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable. “You two know each other?” Silas didn’t look at him. “Go home, Evan.” Something dark flashed across Evan’s face, but it was gone before Rory could name it. He stood, tossing a few notes onto the bar. “Yeah. Sure.” He didn’t look at her as he walked out, the door swinging shut behind him with a quiet click. Silas watched him go, then turned to Rory, his expression unreadable. “You alright?” She nodded, but her hands were still shaking. Silas sighed, reaching beneath the bar. He pulled out a small envelope, sliding it across the counter toward her. “Next time, don’t linger.” She pocketed it without looking. “Right.” He studied her for a long moment, then nodded toward the back. “Go on. I’ll cover for you.” She didn’t need to be told twice. Rory turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd toward the hidden door behind the bookshelf. The weight of Evan’s gaze burned into her back, but she didn’t look back. Not this time.