AI The ice pail clattered, echoing a little too loudly in the quiet bar. Rory frowned, wiping a stray ring of condensation from the mahogany. Rain slicked the Soho pavement outside, giving the green neon sign of The Raven’s Nest a blurry halo. She preferred these lulls, the hushed space allowing her thoughts a rare quiet breath, undisturbed by the usual evening clamour. A new shipment of whiskey needed shelving, a task that kept her hands busy and her mind from wandering too far down familiar rabbit holes.
The bell above the door chimed, a small, polite sound. Rory didn't look up immediately. Most late afternoon patrons were regulars, content to nurse a single pint and vanish into their own quiet worlds.
"Rory?"
The voice was a ghost, a whisper from a forgotten lifetime. Rory froze, the whiskey bottle slipping just a fraction in her damp grip. She knew that voice, the particular lilt wrapping itself around her name, even after all these years. Slow, deliberate, she turned.
A woman stood framed in the dim entrance, rain glistening on the shoulders of her trench coat. Her dark blonde hair, once long and wild, was now a sleek, sophisticated bob. She hadn’t changed much, not really . The same wide, trusting hazel eyes. The same small, hopeful smile. It was Chloe.
"Chloe." The name tasted foreign on Rory's tongue. A bitter root, not a sweet memory.
"It really is you ," Chloe breathed, moving further into the bar. Her eyes swept over Rory, taking in the black jeans, the simple dark top, the small crescent scar on her left wrist. Rory felt suddenly exposed, a specimen under glass.
"Last I heard, you were off studying law." Chloe’s smile wavered, a hint of confusion knitting her brow . "What happened?"
Rory placed the whiskey bottle on the shelf with a soft *thunk *. "Things change, Chloe."
"But... This? A bar? I thought you 'd be in courtrooms by now . Making a difference." Chloe walked closer, her gaze lingering on Rory’s bright blue eyes, searching for something familiar . "You always said you 'd change the world."
"The world changed me first." Rory reached for a cloth, wiping down an already clean section of the bar. It was an old habit, a way to anchor herself when the past threatened to drag her under.
"You look..." Chloe paused, her gaze still fixed on Rory's face . "Different. Tired."
"It's honest work." Rory kept her voice level. "Keeps me off the streets."
"Don't joke like that." Chloe’s voice had a soft edge of admonishment, just like it used to whenever Rory got too sardonic. It scraped against a part of Rory that was long dead. "I heard you left Cardiff. Just… vanished. No one knew where you went. Your parents were worried sick."
"My parents always worried." Rory shrugged. "Over nothing." She didn’t mention the texts, the calls, the desperate pleas from a mother she could no longer face, a father whose disappointed silence still echoed in her ears.
"Evan." Chloe said the name softly , almost reverently. Like an incantation. "It was because of him, wasn't it?"
Rory’s hand tightened on the cloth. The mahogany suddenly felt rough beneath her fingers. "Evan's a ghost from another life."
"But a real one," Chloe insisted. "I can see it in your eyes. He changed you . He broke something."
"He chipped a few edges, perhaps." Rory forced a smile, a brittle, unconvincing thing. "Made me sharper."
A figure emerged from the back room, his limp a soft shuffle against the floorboards. Silas, his grey-streaked auburn beard neatly trimmed, glanced between the two women. His hazel eyes, usually warm, held a flicker of curiosity, quickly masked. He gave Rory a subtle nod, an unspoken question.
"Just an old acquaintance, Silas." Rory dismissed him with a glance, pushing the word "friend" away.
Silas merely nodded again, his silver signet ring flashing on his right hand before he retreated toward his office, leaving the hidden bookshelf door ajar for a moment.
Chloe watched him go. "An old acquaintance? You live above this bar, don't you ? It's on your social media, Rory. What kind of arrangement is this, really ?"
"It's a roof over my head." Rory turned, facing Chloe fully. Her cool gaze met Chloe's insistent one. "Don't you have a life? Some hotshot London lawyer to chase, perhaps?"
"I'm here." Chloe's voice softened, a genuine ache in it. "I missed you , Rory. We all did. Eva, too. She tried to find you ."
"Eva found me." Rory’s voice was flat. "She's the one who convinced me to come to London."
"She said you were… different." Chloe looked down at her hands, twisting a pearl button on her coat. "She said you wouldn't talk about Cardiff. About him."
"There's nothing to talk about." Rory leaned against the bar, crossing her arms. "The past is done."
"It's never done," Chloe countered, her voice rising slightly . "Not when it leaves marks like these." She gestured vaguely at Rory, a silent indictment. "We were supposed to share a flat after university, remember? That grand plan to take London by storm? Then you vanished."
"Plans change." Rory’s chest felt tight.
"Or people run." Chloe’s gaze was sharp now , cutting through Rory's practiced indifference. "You ran, Rory. You always ran when things got hard."
"I survived." The word was a shield, hard and unyielding. "Is that a crime now ?"
"No, but… is this really surviving?" Chloe’s eyes swept around the dimly lit bar, the old maps on the walls, the quiet melancholy of the space. "It's not what we dreamt of. It's not *you *."
The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, punctuated by the faint hum of the refrigeration unit. Rory looked out at the rain-streaked street, her breath fogging the glass for a moment. Chloe saw it too, the bleakness in her eyes, the way Rory seemed to brace herself against the world.
"You should come back to Cardiff," Chloe said, her voice a desperate plea . "Visit. Eva and I, we're planning a trip down memory lane. We could all go together. Like old times."
Rory turned back, a ghost of her old intelligence glinting in her eyes, but overlaid with something sharper, colder. "There are no old times left, Chloe. Only now ."
Just then, a sleek black car, its tinted windows reflecting the green neon sign, pulled up abruptly outside The Raven's Nest. It didn't park so much as stop, a silent, predatory presence. The passenger side window, impossibly black, slid down a fraction. No one emerged. No one spoke. The car just sat there, waiting. Rory’s cool-headed gaze drifted past Chloe, fixing on the car. Her jaw tightened, the brittle smile vanishing completely .
"What is it?" Chloe asked, following Rory’s gaze to the menacing vehicle. "Who—"
Rory didn't answer. Her hand instinctively moved to the small, cold hilt of the blade tucked into the back of her waistband. The bell above the bar door chimed again, but this time, it wasn't marking an arrival. It was marking a decision. Rory recognized the subtle, almost imperceptible way the car's engine note changed, a low purr deepening to a hungry growl. She had moments, perhaps mere seconds, before the situation escalated. She knew, with a dreadful certainty, that this had nothing to do with old friends or Cardiff regrets. This was the *now *.