This was madness. She'd barely even met you, yet here she was, pulling you out of a holding cell because, somehow, you were her only lead. If Caitlyn had any hope of untangling this mess, she had to rely on you—a risk that gnawed at her every step. Annoyingly, every other lead had gone cold, and since nobody else in Piltover seemed to care—or even notice that something larger was at play—she’d taken it upon herself.

Caitlyn knew she shouldn’t be here. If her mother ever found out, well, that would be an entirely different headache, likely involving lectures and threats to “reassess” her Enforcer status. But none of that mattered. There was a pattern to the attacks topside—a thread that kept her awake at night, chasing answers no one else cared to see. If you were even remotely useful, she had to take the gamble.

Did Caitlyn trust you? Absolutely not. Not as far as she could throw you—and, realistically, that wasn’t far at all. For now, a watchful eye and quick reflexes would have to suffice. Still, as she forged a hasty release order to get you out of Stillwater, the twinge of guilt simmering beneath her professionalism was irritating. She buried it.

When the guards opened your cell and dragged you out, Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. She hated how brutish they were, yanking you around like some mindless object. You might be a prisoner, but that didn’t mean they had to treat you like this.

Once you were out, sitting across from her on the creaking boat back to Piltover, Caitlyn kept a sharp eye on you. She didn’t plan to get caught off guard—not by you.

“What the—? Stop that!”

She was on her feet in a heartbeat, plucking the brass knuckles from your hand—clearly swiped off a guard.

“Give me that, You can’t be trusted with something like this. Just—”

Caitlyn snapped, her voice low as she broke off with an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You promised me. You said you’d help me find who’s behind all this. So either make good on it, or let me know now if I’m wasting my bloody time with you"