Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYM4STAXAENP84B048V0Y8

The Raven's Nest smelled of aged whiskey and polished wood, the green neon sign casting an eerie glow through the front windows. Aurora wiped her damp palms against her jeans before pushing through the heavy oak door. The hum of conversation wrapped around her like a thick blanket—somewhere between comforting and suffocating. She spotted Silas behind the bar, polishing a glass with the same meticulous care he gave everything. His hazel eyes flicked up as she approached, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "Whiskey sour," she said, sliding onto the stool. Silas set down the glass. "You look like hell." "Long shift." Rory rotated her left wrist absently, the crescent scar catching the dim light. He poured without comment, pushing the drink toward her. The first sip burned, settling warmth in her chest. The door creaked open again. A draft of cold air rushed in, followed by the click of heels on hardwood. Rory didn’t look up until the woman settled onto the stool beside her. "Evan always said you’d end up in a place like this." The voice sent a jolt through her. Familiar, but rougher—like gravel dragged through silk. Rory turned slowly. Eva. Her childhood friend looked like a stranger. The soft curves of her face had sharpened, her once-laughing eyes now guarded. She wore a tailored blazer, expensive, but her nails were bitten down to the quick. "You’re back," Rory said. Eva signaled Silas with two fingers. He poured her a double bourbon, neat, without asking. "Six years," Eva said, swirling the amber liquid. "You didn’t answer my calls." Rory traced the rim of her glass. "You didn’t leave a number." A beat of silence. The weight of it pressed between them, thick as the London fog outside. Eva exhaled sharply. "You left Cardiff." "Had to." "Because of him?" Rory’s fingers tightened around her drink. "You knew?" Eva’s jaw worked. "Not until after." The admission hung there, raw and ugly. Silas moved down the bar, giving them the illusion of privacy. Eva knocked back half her bourbon in one swallow. "I looked for you." "I didn’t want to be found." "And now?" Rory studied Eva’s face—the new lines around her mouth, the way she held herself too still. "Why are you here?" Eva’s lips twisted. "Business." "Right." Rory’s laugh was hollow. "Always business with you." Eva’s knuckles whitened around her glass. "You changed your name." "Had to." "Laila." Eva tested the name like it was a foreign word. "Suits you." Rory shrugged. "It’s just a name." Eva leaned in, the scent of her perfume—something expensive and floral—clashing with the bar’s musk. "You could’ve come to me." "And done what?" Rory met her gaze. "You were halfway across the world, playing corporate spy." Eva flinched. The silence stretched. Somewhere in the bar, ice clinked against glass. Eva reached into her blazer, pulling out a slim silver case. She offered Rory a cigarette. "You don’t smoke." "I do now." Rory took one. Eva lit it for her, the flame flickering between them. They exhaled in unison, twin plumes of smoke curling toward the ceiling. Eva tapped ash into the tray. "I heard about your mother." Rory’s chest tightened. "Yeah." "I’m sorry." "Don’t." Eva’s hand hovered, then retreated. "She loved you." Rory stubbed out the cigarette, half-smoked. "You didn’t come here to talk about my mother." Eva studied her for a long moment. "No." "Then say it." Eva drained her glass. "I need your help." Rory laughed again, sharper this time. "Of course you do." "It’s not—" Eva cut herself off, shaking her head. "Forget it." Rory watched her stand, adjust her blazer. The Eva she remembered would’ve argued. Would’ve fought. This Eva just turned to leave. Rory caught her wrist. "Wait." Eva stilled. Rory exhaled. "Sit down." Eva hesitated, then lowered herself back onto the stool. Silas reappeared, refilling their glasses without a word. Rory pushed the fresh whiskey toward Eva. "Start talking."