Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAWWRBBSQ4SVH3NRBP2F8Z

The rain came down in sheets, turning the streets of Soho into a slick, glistening river. Detective Harlow Quinn’s boots splashed through puddles as she moved with the precision of a soldier on patrol, her sharp jaw set in a grim line. The neon glow of *The Raven’s Nest* flickered above her, its green light bleeding into the storm like a bruise. She had been watching the bar for hours, waiting for the right moment—the one where the suspect, a man named Elias Voss, would slip out unnoticed. She had him now. A figure in a long black coat ducked into the alley beside the bar, his collar turned up against the rain. Harlow didn’t hesitate. She followed, her leather watch ticking against her wrist like a metronome counting down to the inevitable. The alley was narrow, the walls slick with grime and water. She could hear him moving ahead, his footsteps muffled by the downpour. When he turned left at the next junction, she did the same, her breath steady despite the adrenaline. The streets of London at night were a labyrinth of shadows and neon, but Harlow knew them like the back of her hand. She had spent eighteen years in this city, chasing criminals through its underbelly, and she wasn’t about to let Voss slip away now. The rain hammered against her umbrella, but she kept it closed, letting the water run down her face. She didn’t need to see him to know he was close. Then, the pavement dropped away. She didn’t see the grate until it was too late. One moment, she was running; the next, her boot caught on the edge, and she stumbled forward, arms windmilling as she teetered over the darkness. She barely caught herself, fingers scraping against the rusted metal of the manhole cover. Below, she could hear the distant hum of voices, the clink of glass, the occasional burst of laughter. The Veil Market. Her pulse spiked. She knew about the place—rumors had swirled through the force for years. A hidden market beneath the city, accessible only to those who knew the way. And now, here she was, standing over an open door to something she didn’t understand. Voss was already gone. She could see his silhouette moving through the dim glow of flickering lanterns, his coat flaring as he navigated the underground tunnels. Harlow’s mind raced. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she also had no choice. If she didn’t follow him now, she’d lose him forever. She took a deep breath, then stepped over the edge. The drop was shallow, no more than a few feet, but the impact still jarred her knees. She landed in a crouch, her boots sinking slightly into the damp earth. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and something else—something metallic, like old blood. The market stretched before her, a warren of narrow paths lined with stalls selling goods she couldn’t begin to identify. People moved through the crowd, their faces obscured by hoods or masks, their voices hushed but urgent. Harlow’s eyes adjusted to the dim light. She saw Voss ahead, weaving through the crowd, his back to her. She followed, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of her service weapon beneath her coat. She wasn’t here to fight—she was here to arrest. But if he led her into a trap, she’d be damned if she’d let him get away. A man in a long duster turned to look at her as she passed, his face half-hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes were sharp, assessing. She met his gaze for a second before looking away, but the feeling of being watched lingered. The market was alive with whispers, with deals being made in the shadows. She could hear the clink of coins, the murmur of hushed negotiations. Then, she saw the hidden door. It was nothing more than a bookshelf in a dimly lit corner, its shelves filled with old tomes and dusty maps. But when she reached out, the books shifted slightly, revealing a narrow passage. Voss was already inside, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness beyond. Harlow hesitated. She didn’t know what lay beyond that door. She didn’t know if she was walking into a den of thieves or something far worse. But she also knew that if she didn’t follow him, she’d never catch him again. She stepped forward, her hand brushing against the cold wood of the shelf. The books shifted again, this time more easily, as if welcoming her. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room beyond was small, lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. A man sat at a table, his back to her, his fingers tracing the edge of a map. His name was Silas, she knew that much. A figurehead of the Veil Market, a man who dealt in things that weren’t supposed to exist. Voss stood beside him, his voice low and urgent. *"You said this would be safe."* Silas didn’t turn around. *"It is safe. For now."* Harlow’s hand tightened around the grip of her pistol. She wasn’t here to make deals. She was here to arrest. Then, the lantern flickered. The shadows stretched long and deep, and for the first time, Harlow felt the weight of something she couldn’t see. The air hummed with energy, like the moment before a storm breaks. She could hear the distant sound of footsteps, not hers, not Voss’s—something else. Something moving through the tunnels, something that didn’t belong in the light. Silas finally turned, his face half-lit by the lantern. His smile was slow, knowing. *"Detective Quinn. I was wondering when you’d find us."* Harlow’s finger twitched on the trigger. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t leaving without answers. And if that meant walking into the unknown, then so be it.