Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR2K94PFHZMXDZYWMKN8D9

Rain pounded against Detective Harlow Quinn's suit, seeping into her collar and weighing down her shoulders. She charged through the Soho streets, eyes locked on the fleeing figure of Tomás Herrera. Neon signs reflected off the wet pavement, casting a gaudy glow over the rain-soaked crowd. People scurried for cover, and Quinn dodged a splintering trash can, her military precision guiding her through the chaos. She spotted Herrera ducking into a narrow alley, and she followed, her boots pounding against the wet stone. "Herrera, stop! I need to ask you some questions!" Quinn's voice cut through the rain, but Herrera didn't respond. He vanished into a dimly lit doorway, and Quinn sprinted after him. She burst into the alley, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The smell of rotting garbage and urine filled her nostrils. A poster plastered on the wall showed a faded advertisement for Silas' bar, The Raven's Nest. Quinn remembered a stakeout there months ago, but she hadn't connected Herrera to the bar. As she turned the corner, the alley opened up into a wider street, and Quinn lost sight of Herrera. She scanned the crowd, her eyes narrowing as she spotted a green neon sign above an entrance. The distinctive sign of The Raven's Nest. Quinn's gut told her Herrera was heading there, but she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to follow him into that rabbit hole. A memory surfaced – DS Morris's case, three years ago. Quinn still didn't understand the supernatural elements that had led to her partner's demise. Silas, the bar's owner, was a suspect, but Quinn had never been able to pin anything on him. Maybe Herrera was connected to Silas, or maybe he was just a way to get closer to the bar. Quinn's mind whirled with possibilities as she pushed through the doorway, into the warm, smoky interior of The Raven's Nest. The air inside was thick with the smell of smoke and cheap perfume. Patrons huddled in the corners, nursing drinks and speaking in hushed tones. Quinn's eyes scanned the room, searching for Herrera. She spotted him at the bar, his back to her, speaking with Silas himself. Quinn approached the bar, her eyes locked on Herrera's broad shoulders. "You're wasting your time here, Quinn," Silas said, his voice dripping with menace. "Herrera's just a patron." Quinn slid onto a stool next to Herrera, her eyes never leaving him. "I'm just trying to have a drink, same as you." Herrera didn't respond, and Quinn knew she was losing him. She decided to play it cool, to see where this led. "Hey, Silas? Can I get a whiskey, neat?" Silas raised an eyebrow but handed her a glass, his movements economical. Quinn downed the whiskey in one gulp, feeling the burn all the way down. She set the glass on the bar, her eyes never leaving Herrera's profile. "You going somewhere, Herrera? Maybe you should talk to me instead." Herrera shifted on his stool, and for a moment, Quinn thought he'd make a run for it. But he stayed, his eyes fixed on the wall behind her. Quinn followed his gaze, her heart sinking as she realized they were on the edge of a hidden bookshelf. The movement caught Silas's eye, and he strode over to the bookshelf, his hand sweeping aside the books. The bookshelf swung open, revealing a narrow stairway leading down into darkness. "Looks like you're not welcome here, Quinn," Silas said, his smile stretching wide. "You're just in time for the Veil Market. You should come down and see what we have on offer." Quinn's instincts screamed at her to get out of there, to leave Herrera and Silas and the bar to their games. But something about the hidden stairway called to her, drew her in like a moth to flame. She glanced at Herrera, who seemed transfixed by the stairway, his eyes burning with a mixture of fear and excitement. Quinn hesitated, weighing her options. Down into the unknown, or back out into the rain-soaked streets. She took a deep breath, the air thick with the smell of smoke and secrets. "I'll come down," she said, her voice low and even. "But don't think this means I'm buying what you're selling, Silas." Herrera spun around, his eyes locking on hers. For a moment, Quinn thought she saw something there, a glimmer of hope or recognition. But it was gone, replaced by a mask of indifference. Quinn pushed off the stool, her eyes never leaving Herrera's face as she followed him down into the darkness of the Veil Market.