Run: 2026-09-25-01M3CKENKCN5J1HXVG68DBYY2Y

The green neon sign of The Raven’s Nest flickered as Rory pushed through the door, the weight of the evening’s deliveries still clinging to her shoulders. The bar’s usual hum of low conversation and clinking glasses wrapped around her like a familiar coat. She exhaled, rolling her neck to ease the tension. The scent of aged wood and whiskey was thick in the air, the walls lined with maps and photographs that had seen better decades. Silas was behind the counter, polishing a glass with a cloth that had seen better days. He glanced up, his hazel eyes sharp even in the dim light. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d got lost in the rain.” “Nearly did. Some arsehole on a bike nearly took me out at the corner of Old Compton.” She slid onto a stool, her fingers brushing the crescent scar on her left wrist out of habit. “Yu-Fei’s going to skin me alive if I’m late again tomorrow.” Silas set the glass down. “He’ll survive. You, on the other hand, look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.” She smirked. “Charming. You always know how to make a girl feel welcome.” The door swung open again, letting in a gust of cold air and a man Rory hadn’t seen in years. He paused in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the neon glow, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t recognise him. Then he stepped forward, and the years fell away. Daniel. His once-shaggy dark hair was cropped short now, streaks of silver threading through it. The easy grin she remembered was gone, replaced by a tightness around his mouth. He wore a tailored coat that screamed money, the kind of thing he’d have laughed at back in uni. Silas noticed her staring. “You know him?” Rory swallowed. “Yeah. We go way back.” Daniel’s gaze flicked over the bar, then landed on her. His eyes widened, just for a second. “Rory?” She nodded, suddenly aware of the way her hair stuck to her neck, the way her delivery clothes were probably creased beyond salvation. “Daniel. Fancy seeing you here.” He approached, his steps measured. “Didn’t expect to run into you in London.” His voice was deeper, smoother. The kind of voice that belonged in boardrooms now, not student flats. “Funny. I didn’t expect you to still be in the country.” She kept her tone light, but the words hung between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Daniel hesitated, then sat on the stool beside her. “Been back a few months. Work brought me here.” “Of course. Work.” She traced a finger along the bar’s wood grain. “Still saving the world, one corporate merger at a time?” A flicker of something—annoyance? regret?—crossed his face. “Something like that.” Silas slid a whiskey towards Daniel without asking. “You look like you need it.” Daniel took the glass, his fingers lingering on the rim. “Thanks.” He took a sip, then turned back to Rory. “You’re working here?” “Above, actually. Silas lets me crash in the flat.” She jerked her thumb towards the ceiling. “Delivery driver by day, barfly by night.” Daniel’s eyebrows lifted. “You? Deliveries?” She bristled. “What, you thought I’d be in a courtroom by now?” He had the decency to look sheepish. “I just… I remember you talking about law. Your dad’s firm. All that.” “Plans change.” She took a swig of her own drink, the burn of the alcohol grounding her. “Life’s got a funny way of kicking you in the teeth when you’re not looking.” Daniel was quiet for a moment. The silence stretched, thick with the ghosts of old conversations. Then he said, “Evan.” Her grip tightened on the glass. “What about him?” “Heard you left Cardiff because of him.” Rory exhaled through her nose. “News travels fast.” “Not fast. Just… persistent.” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I should’ve checked on you. After uni. After everything.” She shrugged, but the movement was stiff. “You were busy. Climbing the ladder. Making something of yourself.” “That’s no excuse.” Silas wiped down the counter, his movements slow, deliberate. He didn’t look at them, but Rory knew he was listening. The old spymaster had a knack for hearing everything, even when he pretended not to. Daniel leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “I should’ve been there. When you needed someone.” Rory’s throat tightened. She remembered the last time she’d seen him—graduation day, his arm slung around her shoulders, promising they’d stay in touch. Then the messages had slowed, the calls had stopped, and she’d been left with Evan’s fists and her own stupid hope that things would get better. She forced a laugh, but it came out hollow. “Ancient history, Daniel. We were kids.” “Were we?” His eyes searched hers, and for a second, she saw the boy she’d known—the one who’d stayed up all night arguing politics with her, who’d dragged her to protests, who’d sworn they’d change the world together. “Because I don’t feel like a kid anymore. And I sure as hell don’t feel like the man I thought I’d be.” Rory looked away, her gaze landing on a faded photograph on the wall—a group of soldiers from some long-ago war, their faces blurred by time. “None of us do.” Daniel’s fingers tapped against the bar. “What happened to us, Rory? We were supposed to be… I don’t know. Important. Together.” She met his eyes then, and the regret in them was a physical thing, pressing against her chest. “Life happened. You chose your path. I chose mine.” “Did you?” His voice was raw. “Or did you just end up here because it was the only place left to go?” The words stung, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe. But at least I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not.” Daniel flinched. The air between them crackled, charged with years of distance and unspoken words. Silas finally broke the tension, setting a fresh glass in front of Rory. “You two need a refill or a boxing ring?” Rory managed a small smile. “Both, maybe.” Daniel didn’t laugh. He just stared at his drink, the amber liquid catching the light. “I missed you,” he said quietly. “All these years, and I still missed you.” Her chest ached. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that the past was the past. But the words stuck in her throat. Because it did matter. It always had. The door opened again, letting in a burst of laughter from the street. The moment passed, slipping through their fingers like smoke. Daniel drained his glass and stood. “I should go. Early meeting tomorrow.” Rory nodded, but she didn’t move. “Yeah. Work waits for no one.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. Then he just dipped his chin, a ghost of the old Daniel in the gesture. “Take care, Rory.” She watched him walk out, the door swinging shut behind him. The neon sign buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow over the empty stool beside her. Silas finally spoke, his voice low. “That the ex?” Rory shook her head. “Worse. An old friend.” Silas grunted. “Friends can be worse than exes.” She didn’t answer. The weight of the years settled back onto her shoulders, heavier than before.