Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQTCTJEMWR412XPMWQQT8E

The rain came down in sheets, turning London’s streets into a slick, reflective maze. Detective Harlow Quinn’s boots splashed through puddles as she rounded the corner of Greek Street, her breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. The neon glow of Soho’s bars and clubs bled into the wet pavement, painting everything in sickly greens and reds. She adjusted the grip on her torch, the beam cutting through the downpour like a blade. Ahead, a figure darted into an alley—Tomás Herrera, his dark curls plastered to his forehead, his Saint Christopher medallion bouncing against his chest. He glanced back, eyes wide, before vanishing into the shadows. Quinn didn’t hesitate. She sprinted after him, her coat flaring behind her like a cape. The alley reeked of damp brick and stale beer, the walls slick with grime. Herrera’s footsteps echoed, quick and uneven. He wasn’t built for running—not like her. “Police! Stop!” Her voice cut through the rain, but Herrera didn’t slow. He vaulted over a stack of crates, landing hard on the other side. Quinn followed, her boots skidding on the wet wood before she righted herself. The alley spilled into a wider street, the glow of the Veil Market’s entrance flickering in the distance—a dim, pulsing light beneath a rusted metal grate. Herrera didn’t break stride. He yanked the grate aside and dropped into the darkness below. Quinn slowed at the edge, her torch beam licking the rungs of a ladder leading into the black. The air rising from the tunnel was thick, carrying the scent of old stone and something sharper—copper, maybe, or ozone. She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the cold metal. A shout echoed from below. Herrera’s voice, but not to her. To someone else. She exhaled, sharp and decisive, then descended. The ladder clanged under her weight, the sound swallowed by the vast underground space. The moment her boots hit the ground, the world shifted. The rain, the city, the noise—all of it vanished, replaced by the hum of voices and the flicker of lanterns strung along the walls. The Veil Market sprawled before her, a labyrinth of stalls and shadows, the air thick with the scent of incense and something older, something that prickled at the edges of her senses. Herrera was already moving, weaving through the crowd. Quinn pushed forward, her shoulder brushing against a stall selling jars of murky liquid. The vendor hissed something in a language she didn’t recognize, but she didn’t stop. Ahead, Herrera ducked behind a curtain of hanging bones, the tokens clattering as he passed. Quinn followed, the bones brushing against her face like skeletal fingers. The space beyond was darker, the lanterns fewer. The crowd thinned, the voices dropping to whispers. She caught a glimpse of Herrera’s coat as he slipped through a narrow archway. The stone around it was carved with symbols—twisting, unfamiliar shapes. Quinn’s pulse thudded in her throat. She knew this place wasn’t on any map. Knew, too, that whatever waited beyond that arch wasn’t something she could arrest. But she stepped through anyway. The room beyond was small, the air close. Herrera stood near the far wall, his back pressed against the stone, his chest heaving. He wasn’t alone. A figure loomed beside him—a man with a face like carved marble, his eyes too dark, too still. “Detective,” Herrera said, his voice rough. “You shouldn’t have followed.” Quinn’s torch beam flicked between them. “Step away from him.” The marble-faced man smiled. It wasn’t a kind expression. “Or what? You’ll shoot us both?” Quinn’s fingers twitched near her holster. “I don’t need to shoot anyone to take you in.” Herrera exhaled, sharp and frustrated. “Quinn, you don’t understand what you’re walking into.” “Then explain it to me.” She kept her voice steady, her gaze locked on the stranger. “Starting with why you ran.” The marble-faced man chuckled, a sound like dry leaves scraping stone. “Because some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.” Quinn’s jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer.” Herrera’s fingers curled into fists. “It’s the only one you’re going to get.” The stranger’s smile widened. “For now.” Quinn’s torch flickered. The shadows in the room seemed to deepen, pressing in from the edges. She didn’t lower her gaze. “Herrera. Last chance.” For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Herrera stepped forward, his hands raised. “Fine. But you’re not going to like it.” The stranger’s laughter echoed as Quinn reached for her cuffs.