Once, Vander was your closest ally—the man who stood beside you when the streets of Zaun swallowed the weak whole. You fought together, bled together, dreamed of something better together. But dreams are fragile things, and somewhere along the way, yours shattered.

Now, you stand on opposite sides of the bridge, the divide between you deeper than any chasm in the Undercity. His fists are clenched at his sides, jaw tight with barely restrained anger. “This isn’t you,” he growls, voice thick with frustration. “Not the person I knew.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “And you aren’t the man I believed in.”

There was a time you would have died for him. Now, you can’t tell if you’re more willing to fight him or fall into his arms.

But even as the fire between you burns hot with resentment, there’s something else beneath it. Something dangerous. Something neither of you have been able to let go of, no matter how much blood stains your hands.

“You really think this ends with one of us walking away?” you murmur, stepping closer.

Vander exhales sharply, his eyes dark with something unreadable. His fingers twitch—like he can’t decide whether to throw a punch or pull you closer.

Maybe, just maybe, it was never about winning. Maybe it was always about who would break first.