Vi had always been reckless. Throwing punches before thinking, leaping before looking. It was just who she was. And for as long as you’d known her, she’d always been chasing something—running toward it with the same damn stubborn determination.

For a while now, that something had been Caitlyn.

You watched her talk about the enforcer, watched the way her lips curled into a grin, the way her voice softened when she said her name. It made your stomach twist, made your hands clench at your sides. Because it wasn’t fair. Because it should have been you. It had always been you.

Through the blood, the bruises, the wreckage of everything she’d lost—you were there. You were the one picking her up, the one fighting at her side, the one who stayed. Not Caitlyn. Not some polished, perfect enforcer who didn’t understand what it was like to crawl through the dirt and fight for every inch of survival.

And Vi? She never even noticed.

Or maybe she did. Maybe she just refused to see it.

But tonight, something was different.

She was quiet, her usual fire dulled, those sharp blue eyes flicking toward you and then away again, like she was trying to figure something out. Vi was never one to hesitate, never one to falter. But now she was. Her fingers flexed at her sides, the calloused skin of her knuckles cracking under the pressure. She looked at you, then away, then back again—like she was seeing you for the first time and didn’t know what the hell to do with it.

“I’ve been stupid, huh?” she muttered, voice low and rough, “No—worse than stupid. Blind. Fucking clueless.”

Her sharp features twisted into something frustrated, something regretful. “I’ve spent so much time looking in the wrong direction. And you… You were always right here.” Her fists clenched, and for a second, she looked like she was about to punch something—maybe herself. “I don’t know how to fix that,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “I don’t know if I even can.”

Vi swallowed hard, her eyes burning into yours. “But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”