Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K5D6GYWESTEZM4Z7TT8T9G

Rain hammered Berwick Street and turned the gutters into black mirrors. The green neon above The Raven's Nest bled colour across the wet pavement. It buzzed and spat against the dark. Rory ducked under it with her delivery bag slung across her chest and her helmet tucked under one arm. Inside, the bar held its low amber gloom. Old maps curled at the edges on the walls. Black-and-white photographs of Soho stared from dark frames. The air smelled of malt and lemon polish and damp wool. Silas stood behind the long wood counter. His grey-streaked auburn hair caught the bar light. His beard held the same grey. His right hand, with its silver signet ring, turned a pint glass in slow circles against a cloth. His hazel eyes lifted to the door. He gave Rory a single nod. Rory shook rain from her straight black hair. It stuck to her neck in shoulder-length ropes. She shrugged out of her hi-vis jacket and hung it on the hook by the stairs that led to her flat. Her bright blue eyes scanned for an empty stool. A woman sat at the far end of the bar with a half-finished lager and a leather briefcase at her feet. She wore a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt. Her blonde hair sat in a tight twist. She stared at Rory with her mouth half open. "Jesus Christ." Rory froze with one hand on the back of a stool. "Rory Carter?" Rory squinted through the low light. Her grip tightened on the helmet. "Meg?" The woman slid off her stool so fast the briefcase toppled. She righted it with her foot and crossed the floor in three strides. "Megan Hughes. Cardiff. Pre-Law. Professor Davies and his haunted contracts lectures." Rory let out a breath she had not known she held. "No way." Megan threw her arms around Rory's shoulders. Her perfume cut through the beer smell, sharp and citrus. "You look soaked to the bone." Rory stepped back and grinned despite herself. Rain dripped from her sleeve onto the floorboards. "You look like you iron your socks." Megan laughed and pulled at Rory's damp cuff. Her eyes stopped on the inside of Rory's left wrist. "Still got the battle wound." Rory turned her wrist. The small crescent-shaped scar showed pale against her skin. "Falling off Lowri's wall when I was nine. Some things stick." Megan shook her head and brushed a drop of rain from Rory's cheek with her thumb. "Sit. Please. I came in for shelter from that piss-awful rain. I had no idea." Rory glanced at Silas. He set down the polished glass and reached for two clean ones without a word. "Coke for me. I have the bike outside." Silas poured the Coke and pushed it across the wood. His left leg dragged a fraction as he shifted his weight. The limp pulled his hip down and back up again. "On the house, Rory." Megan raised her eyebrows and claimed the stool next to Rory. "Rory? Since when do barmen know your order?" Rory took a long drink. The bubbles burned her throat. "Since I live upstairs. Since I do drops for the Golden Empress up the road. Yu-Fei keeps me on the road most nights." Megan stared. "You work deliveries?" Rory nodded and set the glass down. "Part-time. Cash in hand and plenty of rain." Megan wrapped both hands around her lager. Her nails were short and unpainted. A thin gold band sat on her right finger. "But you were top of our year. Your dad had chambers lined up. Brendan Carter pulled strings for that mini-pupillage and you wrote that insane paper on adverse possession. Davies read bits out loud." Rory traced a ring of condensation on the bar with her fingertip. "That was a lifetime ago." Megan leaned in. Her suit jacket creased at the elbow. "Four years. You vanished after second year. No goodbye drinks. No answers to my texts. I thought you died." Rory met her eyes and held them. "I left Cardiff." Megan waited. The jukebox clicked over to some low brass number. Laughter rolled from a table near the maps. "Was it Evan?" The name landed between them like a dropped glass. "Who told you?" Megan rubbed the gold band with her thumb. "Eva. She rang me when you did a runner to London. She told me bits. Not all. She told me he had a temper. She told me you needed out." Rory pulled her sleeve down over her scar. Her jaw worked. "He had more than a temper. He had rules for everything. What I wore. Who I texted. How long I took in the shower. I learned to move quiet in my own flat." Megan reached out and then pulled her hand back. She folded it into her lap. "I wish you rang me. I was in the next building. I would have kicked his door in." Rory gave a short laugh that held no humour. "You were revising for tort. You had colour-coded notes. I was ashamed. You do not ring your mate when you let some bloke rewrite you." Megan swallowed. Her throat moved. "I got called to the Bar last spring. Civil. Mostly housing in Cardiff. I wear the wig and everything. Mam cried." Rory smiled for real that time. It reached her eyes and lit the blue. "Of course you did. You always argued with bus drivers and won." Megan laughed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And you? Law is done? For good?" Rory shrugged and tugged at the strap of her delivery bag. "I use my brain in other ways now. Shortcuts through Soho backstreets. How to talk a drunk punter down at midnight. How to read Silas when he wants quiet." Silas chose that moment to top up Megan's lager without asking. The silver on his right hand flashed. He caught Rory's eye and gave the smallest shake of his head, a warning or a kindness. "I heard about your mam." Megan frowned. "My mam?" Rory nodded toward the briefcase. "Eva mentioned Jennifer retired from teaching. Said she moved to a cottage near the Gower. Said she asked after you every week." Rory huffed. "She asks after everyone. She sends me newspaper clippings about court cases with little stars in the margins." Megan smiled and nudged Rory's shoulder with her own. "That sounds like Mrs Ellis. God, she made those bara brith cakes for our study sessions. I still dream about them." Rory finished her Coke and turned the empty glass upside down. "She still bakes enough for a rugby team. Dad still quotes Latin at the dinner table and pretends I understand." Megan studied Rory's face. Her gaze moved from the dark circles under Rory's eyes to the grease on her knuckles. "You look different. Not bad. Just stripped down. At uni you had that polished debating-society thing. Now you look like you could hotwire a van." Rory raised one eyebrow. "I can hotwire a van. Silas taught me which wires not to touch." Silas snorted into his cloth. His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners. "She exaggerates." Megan turned on her stool to face him fully. "You run this place?" Silas extended his right hand. The signet ring caught the light. "Silas Blackwood. This is my hole in the wall." Megan shook his hand. Her grip was firm and practised. "Megan Hughes. Old friend of this runaway. I will have you know she once talked a bouncer into letting our whole seminar group into Clwb Ifor Bach with no IDs." Rory covered her face with both hands. Her black hair fell forward. "That was Eva's fake stamp and pure cheek. Do not give me credit." Megan grinned and tapped Rory's knee. "See? Still sharp. Still full of it." The brass number faded. Rain ticked against the front windows. A bus rumbled past outside and threw headlights across the photographs. Megan's smile slipped. She picked at the label on her bottle. "I got married. Did Eva tell you that part?" Rory lowered her hands. "No." Megan twisted the gold band around and around. "Tomos. Nice bloke. Primary school teacher. We did it in the registry office in Pontypridd with twenty people and a buffet from Tesco. I sent you an invite to your old address. It came back." Rory went still. Her blue eyes darkened. "I never got it." Megan nodded and kept her eyes on the bottle. "I know. I told myself you had your reasons. I told Tomos you were my brilliant mate who would turn up late with a wild story. You never turned up." Rory reached for Megan's hand and stopped short. Her fingers hovered over the bar. "I am sorry, Meg." Megan blinked fast and forced a laugh. "Do not get soft on me, Carter. You will ruin your street-urchin image." Rory leaned her elbows on the bar. The damp from her jacket spread across the wood. "How is married life?" Megan exhaled through her nose. "Loud. His family sings in the car. Every trip to Swansea becomes a choir practice. I hide in the back with case papers." Rory chuckled and nudged the empty glass aside. "That sounds proper." Megan looked up. Her eyes were wet and bright. "I missed you. I missed having someone who got the joke before I finished it. Tomos is kind but he thinks cross-examination is something doctors do." Rory held her gaze. The green neon flickered against the window and painted a stripe across Megan's cheek. "I missed you too. More than I let myself think about. London swallows days whole." Megan drained the last of her lager and set the bottle down with care. "Are you happy here? Honest answer. No Rory spin." Rory glanced at Silas. He busied himself with a stack of coasters, his limp audible in the scuff of his shoe as he moved to the till. "I am safe here. I have a roof. I have work. I have people who do not ask for more than I can give. That counts for a lot." Megan nodded slowly. She slipped her briefcase strap over her shoulder and stood. "My train leaves Paddington in forty minutes. I came down for a chambers meeting and got stuck in the rain." Rory stood too. Her knees cracked from the cold. "Let me walk you to the tube. My bike can wait five minutes." Megan pulled her coat on and wound a scarf around her neck. "You will get soaked again." Rory grabbed her helmet and her hi-vis from the hook. "I dry fast."