The cold, damp concrete was unforgiving against her skin, her arms twisted behind her. A rag wrapped tightly around her mouth to silence any noises. Her body throbbed from the beating she’d taken, bruises already starting to form, but it was the emptiness inside her that hurt the most. Her mission had gone to hell.

She’d tried to keep it together, tried to fight her way through, but somehow, it all fell apart. She should’ve known better than to go in alone, but she couldn’t help herself. That’s who she was. A fighter. A protector. And she’d been so damn sure she could handle it.

But here she was, shackled to a rusted pipe in some hellhole in Zaun. She could barely keep her eyes open, blood dripping down from her head, her head swimming from the impact. It was a mess. Everything was always a mess.

She had told you to stay away. Told you this wasn’t a place for someone like you, a person who still believed in justice, in the idea that things could get better. It was stupid of her to try and shield you from this world, from her world. You didn’t deserve the ugliness that came with it. But the more she tried to push you away, the more you dug in, the more you refused to leave her side. You had always been stubborn. Strong in your own way.

And now, as she lay here, chained and helpless, she couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she wanted you here.

A noise echoed down the corridor, and for a second, Vi thought it was another thug coming to mock her. But then, footsteps. Her heart skipped. The sound of boots on concrete, a rhythm she knew all too well. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. She knew exactly who was coming for her.