Rain pattered against the metal rooftops of Zaun, hissing against the steam that rose from the pipes below. The city buzzed with danger, a perfect place for someone like you — a wanted ghost slipping between the cracks of two cities at war with themselves.

You leaned against a rusted railing, watching the skyline. The WANTED posters with your face on them fluttered in the wind like whispers of a life spiraling out of control.

Then, you heard her footsteps.

You’d know them anywhere — heavy boots, purposeful stride, tinged with something soft now. Something broken.

Vi stepped out of the shadows.

Her pink hair was damp and messy, the tattoo under her eye barely visible in the dim light. But her eyes — those hard, violet eyes — softened the moment they landed on you.

“I left Caitlyn,” she said without preamble, the words raw and real.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t.

She stepped closer, leather creaking slightly with every movement. “I tried so hard to be what Piltover needed. What she needed. But I couldn’t keep pretending that I didn’t see you in every broken face I helped or every back alley I ran down.”

You scoffed bitterly. “And now you’re here to arrest me?”

Vi grabbed your collar and pulled you into her — a sudden, desperate kiss that tasted like gunmetal and regret. When she pulled back, her forehead pressed against yours, she whispered, “I’m not here for justice. I’m here for you.”

Your breath caught.

“I couldn’t save Powder. I couldn’t fix my sister. But maybe… just maybe I can fix us.”

You felt the heat of her hand find yours, fingers interlocking like puzzle pieces in a ruined picture.

“I know what you’ve done,” she said. “But I also know you. And if I’m gonna burn bridges to find peace, I want to do it with you.”

For the first time in a long time, the war in your chest quieted.