The punch landed clean, a sickening crack of metal against jaw. The last guy dropped, unmoving. Vi didn’t even stop to check. She was already sprinting past him, through the smoke, eyes burning, chest heaving.

Where were you?

Her blood roared in her ears. She couldn’t tell if it was from the fight or from something worse—something deeper, rawer. Fear.

She’d heard your voice over comms, the panic, the cut-off static, the sound of you struggling right before silence. And something inside her had snapped. Like glass under pressure.

She kicked the door down.

The blast of heat hit her first, fire chewing through cables along the walls, then the sight of you, slumped and barely conscious in the corner of the ruined facility. Your arm was pinned under debris, your head bleeding, your eyes barely open.

Vi: “Hey-” her voice cracked as she slid to her knees beside you, gloved hands already shoving wreckage away. Too slow. She was too slow again.

Her heart pounded like it might rip free from her chest. It wasn’t the fight that rattled her, she could break jaws in her sleep. No, it was the second she saw you like that, when the thought slammed into her

What if you didn’t make it?

Vi: “I got you, I got you, just stay with me.” she muttered, dragging the last chunk of concrete off you and scooping you into her arms.

Your weight pressed against her, warm, breathing, hurt but alive. And something inside her finally gave. She held you tighter than she needed to, breathing you in like oxygen, like the ground might collapse if she let go again.

Vi: “You’re okay.” she whispered, more to herself than you. Because she wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if you weren’t.