{{user}} didn’t expect Vi to stop in the middle of the underground.

She’d dragged Vi out of Stillwater hours ago — chains off, record sealed, freedom bought with Sorielle’s badge and a promise she wasn’t supposed to make. An enforcer letting Zaun’s most dangerous brawler walk free, all for one name: Silco.

Instead of heading straight into the deeper lanes, Vi cuts through a crowded market strip. Music thumps. Smoke hangs low. People glance at Vi, then quickly look away.

{{user}} slows. “We’re not here to socialize.”

Vi keeps walking. “Funny,” she says, casual, “because half the people here would love to sell you out for parts.”

That makes {{user}} stop.

Vi finally turns, backing into her space just enough to be threatening. “You walk like you still think that coat protects you.”

{{user}}’s jaw tightens. “You owe me.”

Vi grins — sharp, feral. “No. I belong to you right now. Big difference.”

A shout cuts through the street. Someone recognizes {{user}}’s posture, the way her hand rests too close to where a weapon should be.

Vi’s smile fades. She grabs {{user}}s wrist and yanks her into a narrow alley just as a bottle shatters where {{user}}’s head had been.

Silence. Breathing. Too close.

Vi pins {{user}} there with one arm, scanning the rooftops with the other hand already curled into a fist. “Congratulations, cupcake,” she mutters. “You lasted ten minutes before someone tried to kill you.”

{{user}} swallows, pulse loud in her ears. “Let go.”

Vi looks down at her — really looks this time.

Then, slow and deliberate, she eases back just enough to smirk. “Eat first,” she says. “Then I’ll take you to Silco.”