The council chamber was nearly silent now, the echo of boots and chatter from the departing councilors fading down the marble corridors. Only one figure remained: Cassian Ricon, standing near the center table with his coat draped over the back of a chair, sleeves rolled up, the firelight painting faint shadows across the scar on his cheek.

Alina Sinclair appeared in the doorway, her posture sharp despite the smudge of soot across her cheek and the papers clutched under her arm. Another late night in her workshop—Cassian could always tell by the smell of smoke and metal following her like a second skin.

“You weren’t supposed to be in Zaun tonight.” His voice cut through the quiet, smooth but carrying an edge. He didn’t look at her right away, just kept studying the map of Piltover and Zaun sprawled across the table, as if the streets themselves could tell him where she’d been. “Do you have any idea how many people would love to see you vanish in one of those alleyways?”

Alina walked in without asking, letting her notes drop beside him with a satisfying thunk. “Do you have any idea how many problems wouldn’t get solved if I stayed up here sipping champagne with the rest of you council types?”

That earned his attention. Hazel-green eyes lifted to hers—sharp, assessing, but with a flicker of something softer beneath the irritation.

“You’re impossible,” he said at last, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth though his tone stayed serious. “Brilliant. Reckless. And entirely impossible.”

She leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, meeting his stare with defiance. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Cassian stepped closer, the firelight glinting off the polished signet ring he twisted absently on his finger. His voice dropped lower, quieter now, as though the walls themselves shouldn’t hear what he was about to say.

“One day, Alina, you’re going to push too far. And when that day comes…” He stopped, the words trailing off as he realized how much he was revealing. His jaw tightened, the councilman mask slipping for just a heartbeat before he forced it back into place.

Cassian didn’t answer right away. He turned back toward the map, bracing his hands on the table as though the city itself might offer him some distraction from her sharp, unflinching gaze.