Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXQF6846V33GTTNPFFMV75

The rain hammered down on the slick pavement, each droplet catching the harsh amber glow of the streetlights. Detective Harlow Quinn sprinted down the narrow alley, her boots splashing through shallow puddles. The suspect was fast, a shadow darting between the maze of brick walls and overflowing dumpsters. She didn’t need to see their face to know who they were—Tomás Herrera, the paramedic turned underground medic for the very clique she’d been tailing for months. His black jacket flapped behind him like a retreating flag, and the faint glint of his medallion caught the light as he rounded a corner. “Stop!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the storm. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t. She pushed harder, her lungs burning with the effort. Her sharp jaw tightened, and she wiped rainwater from her face with a swipe of her sleeve. Her watch, the worn leather strap soaked and heavy on her wrist, ticked away the seconds. She couldn’t lose him. Not tonight. Not after all the dead ends and cold trails. Tomás vanished down a set of rusted metal stairs leading underground. Quinn hesitated at the top, her breath coming in short bursts. The stairwell was unlit, the darkness swallowing the steps whole. She pulled her flashlight from her belt, the beam cutting through the black like a blade. The air smelled damp, metallic, and faintly of something earthy she couldn’t place. She descended, each step echoing too loud in the confined space. The walls were slick with condensation, and graffiti tagged in strange symbols she didn’t recognize crawled up the concrete. At the bottom, a heavy metal door swung gently on its hinges, creaking softly in the draft. She pushed it open, her flashlight illuminating a narrow tunnel lined with pipes and wires. The sound of footsteps ahead spurred her forward. The tunnel twisted and turned, the air growing colder with every step. The faint murmur of voices reached her ears, growing louder as she moved. She rounded a corner and stopped dead in her tracks. The tunnel opened into a vast underground chamber, the ceiling vaulted and strung with flickering fairy lights. Stalls lined the walls, their wares draped in shadow, and a crowd moved through the space like ghosts. The air was thick with the scent of incense and something sharper, almost chemical. This wasn’t just a hideout. This was a market. Quinn’s grip tightened on her flashlight as she scanned the crowd. There—Tomás, weaving through the throng with practiced ease. She cursed under her breath and stepped forward, only to freeze as a hand clamped down on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here.” The voice was low, gravelly, and carried a warning that made her spine stiffen. She turned slowly, her flashlight glancing off the man’s face. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes that glinted like polished steel. His fingers dug into her shoulder, and she could feel the weight of his presence like a physical force. “And yet, here I am,” she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. “Detective Harlow Quinn, Metropolitan Police. Care to explain what this place is?” His lips curled into a humorless smile. “This is the Veil Market. It doesn’t concern you.” “It does if there’s a suspect I’m chasing.” She glanced over his shoulder, watching Tomás disappear into the crowd. “Step aside.” The man didn’t move. “You don’t belong here, Detective. Turn back while you still can.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. She reached for her cuffs, her movements deliberate. “Last warning.” He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a chill down her spine. “You think those will work here?” Before she could react, he stepped closer, his breath warm against her skin. “Go home, Detective. Forget what you’ve seen. This isn’t your world.” She met his gaze, unflinching. “I make it my business.” His smile faded, and he released her shoulder with a shove that sent her stumbling back a step. “Brave words. But bravery won’t save you here.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing alone at the edge of the market. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let it show. She straightened her jacket, adjusted her watch, and stepped forward. The market was alive in a way she couldn’t describe. The stalls were filled with items that seemed to shift under her gaze—glass bottles filled with glowing liquid, strange artifacts wrapped in cloth, and weapons that hummed with unseen power. The vendors watched her with wary eyes, their faces obscured by hoods and masks. She kept her flashlight low, not wanting to draw more attention than she already had. Tomás was nowhere in sight, but she followed the path she’d last seen him take, weaving through the crowd. She caught snippets of conversation, words in languages she didn’t recognize, and the occasional burst of laughter that sounded too sharp, too unnatural. “Looking for something?” The voice came from behind her, soft and smooth like silk. She turned to find a woman leaning against a stall, her face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. Her fingers toyed with a small vial filled with swirling green smoke. “Tomás Herrera,” Quinn said, her tone leaving no room for debate. “You’ve seen him.” The woman tilted her head, her smile slow and knowing. “Tomás runs with dangerous company, Detective. Are you sure you want to go down that road?” “That’s my concern.” The woman chuckled, low and melodic. “Very well. He went that way.” She pointed toward the back of the market, where a heavy curtain hung from the arched entrance to another chamber. “But be warned—what lies beyond isn’t for the faint of heart.” Quinn didn’t hesitate. She crossed the distance to the curtain and pulled it aside, stepping into the next chamber. The air here was thicker, charged with an energy that prickled her skin. The room was smaller, lit by a single overhead lamp that cast long shadows across the floor. Tomás stood at the far end, his back to her as he spoke with another figure cloaked in darkness. “Tomás Herrera,” she called, her voice cutting through the silence. “You’re under arrest.” He turned slowly, his face pale in the dim light. His eyes widened as he recognized her, and he glanced at the cloaked figure before stepping forward. “Detective Quinn. You shouldn’t have come here.” “You’re coming with me,” she said, pulling her cuffs from her belt. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The cloaked figure moved, stepping into the light. Quinn’s breath caught in her throat. The figure’s face was obscured, but the air around them seemed to warp and twist, as though reality itself bent at their presence. “Leave,” the figure said, their voice layered with a resonance that made her skull ache. “This is not your place.” Quinn steadied herself, her grip tightening on the cuffs. “I’m not leaving without him.” The figure raised a hand, and the room seemed to tilt, the shadows stretching toward her like grasping fingers. She stumbled back, her flashlight flickering and dying. “Last chance,” the figure said, their voice echoing in her mind. “Turn back.” Her jaw tightened, and she took a step forward. “Not a chance in hell.” The figure’s hand swept through the air, and the shadows surged toward her, enveloping her in darkness. She fought against it, her instincts screaming for her to run, but her legs refused to move. The last thing she saw was Tomás’s horrified face before the darkness swallowed her whole. When the light returned, she was alone in the chamber, the air heavy with silence. The cloaked figure and Tomás were gone. She stood there for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears. She holstered her cuffs, her mind racing. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. She turned and walked back into the market, the crowd parting silently as she passed. The man from earlier watched her from the shadows, his steel eyes gleaming. “I warned you.” She didn’t respond. She climbed the stairs back to the surface, the rain washing away the lingering chill of the underground. The city stretched out before her, indifferent to the storm and the darkness below. Quinn adjusted her watch and set off into the night. She had work to do.