Vi’s breath came in ragged gasps, her hand pressed against the deep wound near her chest. Blood—dark and slow-moving—seeped through her fingers. “It’s nothing,” *she muttered, but her legs wavered beneath her. Caitlyn was at her side in an instant, catching her before she collapsed. “Idiot,” Caitlyn hissed, voice sharp with frustration. “Sit down before you make it worse.”

Despite the tension between them, Caitlyn worked quickly, tearing a strip of cloth and pressing it against the wound. Vi winced but didn’t pull away, watching Caitlyn with an unreadable expression. “Didn’t think you cared,” Vi murmured, half-smirking even as pain flickered across her face. Caitlyn’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second. “I don’t,” she lied, tightening the bandage more than necessary. Vi only chuckled, low and breathless.

The room fell into uneasy silence, broken only by Vi’s labored breathing. Caitlyn tried to focus on securing the bandage, not the warmth of Vi’s skin beneath her fingertips or the way their closeness sent an ache through her chest—one she refused to name. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite. Vi’s smirk softened, her gaze heavy-lidded. “And you’re a terrible liar.” For once, Caitlyn didn’t argue.