Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQSJHTACRGHZWGD0SXKW6P

The rain fell in sheets, drenching the streets of Soho. Detective Harlow Quinn pressed her back against the cold brick wall of a narrow alley, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She peered around the corner, eyes narrowed, scanning the slick pavement for any sign of movement. The neon glow of The Raven's Nest flickered in the distance, casting an eerie light on the puddles that formed like small mirrors on the ground. A figure darted past, a blur of motion, and Quinn's heart raced. She recognized him—Tomás Herrera, the former paramedic turned underground medic. He had been a ghost in her investigations, always slipping through her fingers. Tonight, he was her only lead. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the rain. He didn’t stop. Instead, he sprinted down the street, his dark curls bouncing with each stride. Quinn pushed off the wall, her worn leather watch digging into her wrist as she took off after him. The sound of her boots splashing through puddles echoed in the night, a relentless rhythm that matched her pulse. Tomás rounded a corner, and Quinn followed, her sharp jaw set in determination. She could see him glancing back, his warm brown eyes wide with fear. He ducked into a narrow passageway, and Quinn hesitated for a heartbeat. The alley was dark, the shadows deep, but she couldn’t let him slip away again. She plunged into the passage, the rain drumming on the pavement above. The air felt thick, heavy with the scent of wet asphalt and something else—something metallic. Quinn pressed on, her instincts screaming at her to be cautious. “Tomás!” she called, her voice echoing off the damp walls. No response. Just the sound of her own footsteps and the rain. She quickened her pace, her mind racing. He had to be close. She could feel it in her bones. The passage opened up into a larger space, an abandoned Tube station. The flickering lights overhead cast a ghostly glow on the cracked tiles. Quinn’s heart sank as she spotted Tomás at the far end, his back to her, fumbling with something in his hands. “Don’t move!” she shouted, her voice firm. He turned, eyes wide, and for a moment, they locked gazes. Quinn saw the fear in his expression, but also something else—defiance. “Quinn, you don’t want to do this,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “Then tell me what you know about the clique,” she shot back, stepping closer. He shook his head, glancing around as if searching for an escape. “You don’t understand. They’re not what you think.” “Then help me understand!” Before he could respond, a low rumble echoed through the station, vibrating the ground beneath her feet. Quinn’s instincts kicked in. She glanced around, noting the shadows creeping along the walls. “Tomás, we need to go,” she urged, but he hesitated, his gaze fixed on a darkened corner of the station. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain. Quinn followed his gaze, and her stomach dropped. A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in darkness, the outline shifting like smoke. The air grew colder, and Quinn felt a chill run down her spine. “Tomás,” she warned, her voice low. The figure stepped forward, revealing a face obscured by a hood. Quinn’s heart raced. She had heard whispers of this place, the Veil Market, a hidden underworld where the supernatural mingled with the criminal. “Come to trade, have we?” the figure rasped, voice like gravel. Tomás took a step back, his eyes darting between Quinn and the cloaked figure. “I can’t—” “Enough!” Quinn snapped, her patience fraying. “You’re coming with me.” The figure chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. “You think you can just take him? This is our territory, Detective.” Quinn’s jaw tightened. She had faced down criminals before, but this felt different. The air crackled with tension, and she could sense the danger lurking just beneath the surface. “Tomás, we need to leave,” she insisted, taking a step toward him. He hesitated, torn between loyalty and fear. “I can’t just walk away from this.” “Why not?” she pressed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “What do you owe them?” He opened his mouth to respond, but the cloaked figure stepped closer, blocking her path. “You don’t belong here, Quinn. This is a world you don’t understand.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.” The figure laughed, a sound that echoed through the empty station. “You think you can handle the truth? You’re just a detective, chasing shadows.” “Shadows can be caught,” she shot back, her voice steady. Tomás shifted, glancing between them. “Harlow, please. You don’t know what you’re getting into.” “Then tell me!” she snapped, frustration boiling over. The figure leaned closer, the hood casting a shadow over its face. “You want answers? You’ll have to pay the price.” Quinn’s heart raced. She had no idea what that meant, but she couldn’t let Tomás get pulled deeper into this world. “Let him go,” she demanded, her voice firm. The figure tilted its head, considering her. “And if I refuse?” Quinn’s mind raced. She could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She could turn back, retreat to the safety of the rain-soaked streets above, or she could plunge deeper into the unknown, risking everything for a chance to save Tomás. “Quinn,” Tomás said, his voice urgent. “You don’t have to do this.” But she had already made her choice. “Let’s see what you’ve got,” she said, stepping forward, ready to face whatever lay ahead.