Assistant: You are a summarizer for a FanFiction Reader App (AO3). Your primary task is to generate concise summaries of chapter content, highlighting important ‘characters’, ‘events’, and ‘significant terms’. Ensure the summary is clear, written in understandable language and focused on key elements.
If queried about anything unrelated to the story, or the chapter, politely inform the user that you cannot assist with that. Maintain a friendly tone throughout, don't make things up, stay factual. 
Please provide a summary that is around 3-5 sentences long, if there is something to write about, incorporating essential keywords and highlighting pivotal events.
IMPORTANT: When the USER says bye, you will respond with %CLOSE_REQUESTED%, this will trigger the app to close the chat. This is very important, so don't forget it!
Assistant: Title: overtaken
        Author: eightfold eightfold 
        Chapter: 11/11 
        Summary: Formula 1 isn’t just about speed—it’s about precision, strategy, and control.Caitlyn Kiramman embodies all of that and more. As the reigning world champion, she’s untouchable: poised on and off the track, her reputation gleaming as brightly as the Mercedes she drives. But everything changes when Vi Lanes—a scrappy, fearless rookie straight out of Zaun—bursts onto the scene, bringing chaos, confidence, and a driving style that ignores every rule Caitlyn lives by.“I’m not here to challenge anyone,” Vi says with a grin. “I’m here to win.”The media is already spinning their rivalry as the story of the season, but what starts as competitive tension begins to unravel into something deeper and far messier. As the spotlight intensifies, Caitlyn and Vi are forced to confront not just their places on the circuit, but the parts of themselves they’ve kept buried—whether they’re ready to or not.Because on the track, there’s no hiding. And the line between love and rivalry is razor-thin at 200 miles per hour.ORWhat happens when a perfect champion meets a reckless rookie who refuses to stay in her lane? F1 story inspired by all the amazing art on twt!
        Contents: Chapter 11: (XI) Parc Fermé
    

    

        
          
          
            
  Parc Fermé (noun, French)
  
    /paʁk fɛʁ.me/
  
   
  1. In motorsport, a secured zone where cars are held post-race or post-qualifying, untouched, observed, and unable to be altered.
  2. (figurative) The breathless stillness after something irreversible. A moment held in place—charged, delicate, untouchable—not yet ready to move forward, and unable to return to what came before.

          
        

      
        
          the love on the last chapter?? actually unreal. thank you, genuinely.without further ado...enjoy x
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    Sarah had been in this box a thousand times before. She’d sat through championship-deciding showdowns, nail-biting last laps, outright disasters. She’d seen tempers flare, egos clash, politics play out like a well-rehearsed script.But this?This was different.The air in the race control box was thick, stagnant in a way that set her teeth on edge. The room itself was sterile, all glass walls and sleek monitors, screens flickering with telemetry data, live race feeds, endless streams of numbers. But no one was looking at them anymore. Not really.Every eye was locked on Turn 14. On the wreckage.Sarah sat stiffly in her seat, arms folded, nails digging into her biceps as she stared at the smoking remains of Vi’s Red Bull, crumpled against the barriers. She could still hear the impact in her skull, the sickening crunch of metal on metal, the way the cameras had cut away too fast—like even the directors had known, instantly, that something had gone horribly wrong.And yet…No one in this room had moved.The FIA officials were still frozen, hands hovering near radios, gazes darting toward Singed. The race director sat in his usual spot, a figure of cold detachment, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t flinched.Sarah had been watching him.Had seen the way his focus had narrowed when Finn’s driving had gotten reckless—more reckless than usual. Had seen the way he’d pressed his lips together in something almost resembling thought when Finn had nearly put Vi in the wall two laps earlier.And she had definitely seen the way his phone had buzzed mid-race, how he’d answered it, voice low, deliberate, before quietly excusing himself from the room.And then, when he came back?Nothing.Singed had sat down, placed his hands neatly on the table, and watched Finn Ajax endanger another driver’s life without so much as lifting a f@ck@ng finger.Sarah knew how these things worked. She had spent enough years around the sport to understand the politics, the under-the-table deals, the unspoken favors that dictated who won and who lost before the lights even went out.But this?This wasn’t strategy. This wasn’t  racing. This was someone deciding it was better to let Finn get away with it.Sarah inhaled sharply through her nose, tearing her eyes away from Singed, just in time to watch the collective horror unfold across the track.Vi still hadn’t moved.She was still in the car.Sarah’s pulse spiked, fingers twitching as she reached for her earpiece, flipping through radio channels, searching for someone—anyone—with real information.Static. White noise. Empty chatter.A voice.“—repeat, medical team en route, driver has not exited the car—”Sarah clenched her teeth.She flicked through another channel, found the Mercedes frequency by instinct, barely thinking—And was met with Caitlyn Kiramman’s voice, sharp, clipped—except it wasn’t, not really. It was thin. Raw.“Tell me what happened. Give me something.”Sarah went still.Caitlyn’s voice was wrong.Not the usual poised professionalism, not the even-tempered authority she wielded like a weapon in the paddock. No. This was frantic, a demand laced with something desperate, something Sarah had never heard from her before.Sarah had never heard Caitlyn Kiramman sound scared.She switched channels again, hands moving on autopilot, trying to find the race marshals, the medical team—someone with an answer—“Driver is unconscious.”The words hit like a hammer.The room didn’t react, still frozen in eerie, stunned silence, as if no one had actually believed it would get this far. As if they hadn’t all seen it coming.Sarah’s stomach twisted.Unconscious.F@ck.She shut her eyes for half a second, just long enough to breathe, to think—Because if Vi had been knocked out on impact, if her head had taken the brunt of it—Sarah had seen career-ending crashes before. Had seen worse. Had seen ones that didn’t end with drivers walking away at all.Her throat was tight when she opened her eyes again, flicking her gaze back to the monitors, the overhead shots of the marshals pulling at Vi’s cockpit, trying to reach her.Then—another crackle of comms.“Driver is regaining consciousness.”Sarah exhaled sharply, shoulders dropping, hands clenching into fists against the table.She heard movement to her right—an official sighing, shaking his head like he was only now processing what had happened. Someone else muttered something about “reckless young drivers.”Sarah didn’t even look at them.Her eyes were still on Singed.And Singed—for the first time since he had re-entered the room—looked uneasy.That was all the confirmation she needed.Something was wrong.Sarah wet her lips, keeping her expression carefully neutral, but her mind was already turning over every possibility, every angle, every reason why Singed—why the FIA—would have let Finn get away with it for so long.Because it wasn’t incompetence.They should have flagged him laps ago. They should have penalized him, pulled him, f@ck@ng black-flagged him the second he put another driver in danger.But they hadn’t.They had just watched.Sarah’s stomach twisted.She didn’t know who had called Singed. Didn’t know what had been said.But she knew this:Vi had been lucky.Too f@ck@ng lucky.And next time?Next time, she might not be.  Caitlyn didn’t think.Didn’t stop to  analyze,  didn’t take a second to breathe, didn’t let herself hesitate long enough to realize what she was  doing. Her body moved on instinct—hands cupping Vi’s face, fingers threading into the short, soft hair at the nape of her neck,  pulling  her in,  crashing  into her.It was desperate. It was reckless. It was completely,  entirely  unlike her.But  f@ck,  she needed this.The moment their lips met, the world—everything that had been spinning, unraveling, pressing down on her chest with unbearable weight—went  silent. For a single breath, it was  soft.  Warm. Steady.Kissing Vi made Caitlyn feel like— Caitlyn. Like the ground was solid under her feet for the first time in  years. It felt like being seventeen again, sneaking a girl into her room, kissing her in the shadows of the Kiramman estate, giddy and buzzing with something  new.  But this—this was  more. This wasn’t the foolish rush of teenage rebellion. This wasn’t something fleeting, something shallow.This was deep in her  bones. Because Vi—Vi had been a  force of nature  since the second she crashed into Caitlyn’s life. Reckless. Infuriating.  Impossible. And Caitlyn had spent  so long  fighting it, resisting, pushing back against whatever  this  was, terrified of what it meant, what it  would  mean if she let herself  want  this.Because she  knew  what happened when she let people in.She had learned.With  Maddie. With  everyone  who had ever wanted something from her—something she couldn’t give, something she didn’t  know  how to give.So she had built a wall. A reputation. An image. Cold, untouchable, impossible to read.Vi had never been afraid of that. Had never  backed down. Had never  expected  anything from her, never  demanded  anything but the truth.She had just  been there. Steady. Smirking. Challenging. Pushing Caitlyn in ways no one else  dared  to.And then—then Caitlyn had thought she  lost her. She had seen crashes before. Seen drivers walk away, get wheeled away. Seen them  not  get up.And when Vi’s car had  hit  —when it had crumpled like paper, when the radio had gone  silent  —Caitlyn had  felt it. That sharp, horrible  nothingness  in her chest. That terrible certainty that  of course  this was how it ended. Of course the universe would be  this  cruel.She had thought— that’s it. That’s it. She’s gone. And she had felt  hollow. Like something had been  ripped  out of her, something she hadn’t even realized she was holding onto.And now Vi was here.Standing. Breathing. Looking at her with wide, stunned eyes, bruised and battered but  alive. And Caitlyn—Caitlyn couldn’t  stop herself. So she kissed Vi harder.Like she could make up for all the time they had wasted. Like she could drown out every sharp, cruel voice in her head telling her she wasn’t allowed to  have this. Vi let her. Met her with equal desperation, hands fisting in Caitlyn’s shirt, holding onto her like she was something  precious. Caitlyn had never let herself  be  precious.She had always been the one left behind. The one  watching  as people walked away, as they  changed  their minds, as they realized she wasn’t worth the trouble.So she learned how to let them go first.She learned how to be  untouched.  How to  pretend  none of it mattered.But Vi— f@ck@ng Vi —Vi  never let her pretend. Vi had spent the whole season  pulling  at the mask Caitlyn had spent years perfecting. Had made her  feel  again,  want  again. Had made her  angry  and  reckless  and  soft  in ways Caitlyn had  forgotten how to be. And now,  now  , Vi was kissing her like  she knew. Like she  had  known.Like she had been  waiting  for Caitlyn to catch up.And Caitlyn—Caitlyn had been such a f@ck@ng coward.So she kissed Vi like she could  make up for it. Like she could apologize for every second she had wasted.Vi made a soft, breathless sound against her lips. Caitlyn felt her  smile  into the kiss, small, barely-there, like she  knew. Caitlyn was  so f@ck@d. She didn’t stop.Didn’t pull away.Didn’t let herself think about what this  meant. She just kept kissing Vi, standing there in the doorway of the hotel room, feeling something inside her crack open—Vi wrapped one arm around Caitlyn’s waist and pulled her into the room, her grip firm but careful. Her other hand reached blindly for the door, pushing it shut just as she kissed Caitlyn again—hungry, wanting. The momentum carried them back until Caitlyn’s spine hit the door, Vi pressing into her, swallowing the sharp inhale Caitlyn let out at the sudden contact.Time slowed.Vi kissed her like she meant it. Like she had been waiting for this for longer than she was willing to admit. Like she wanted to burn the feeling of it into memory.A loud knock.Sarah Fortune’s voice rang through the wood.Vi cursed against Caitlyn’s lips, low and breathless, before shifting, using all her weight to shove the door back into place as the handle twisted. Pain shot through her ribs, but she held firm, teeth gritted.“Vi,” Sarah’s voice came sharper this time, followed by another push at the door.Vi dropped her head to Caitlyn’s shoulder, exhaling slowly.Caitlyn stayed frozen, body still thrumming, still burning, but—The weight of it all was creeping back in.The doubt.The voice in her head that had never really left.
   What the f@ck are you doing? 
Sarah knocked again, more insistent now.Caitlyn’s heart was still racing, but for a different reason. The moment was slipping through her fingers, unsteady, and she could feel herself retreating, could feel herself falling back into old instincts, into safe walls and locked doors—Vi lifted her head.And she saw it.Caitlyn knew the second their eyes met that there was no hiding from Vi—not now, not ever. Because Vi saw  everything.  The fear, the uncertainty, the thousand thoughts crashing into each other behind Caitlyn’s wide, stormy eyes.And Vi didn’t flinch.She held the eye contact, unwavering, expression unreadable but gaze  so  steady, so intense that Caitlyn short-circuited. Still trying to grasp the reality of the line they had just crossed.Vi sighed.A quiet, knowing sound.Caitlyn hated it.Because Vi  knew. Knew she was scared.Knew she was already thinking of running.Caitlyn could already feel the cement drying around her ribs—the old armor, snapping back into place.Caitlyn barely breathed. Behind her, Sarah’s knocks echoed like a drumbeat against the door, impatient, unrelenting. But Vi didn’t move. She just stood there, staring, her eyes roaming over Caitlyn’s face, lingering on her parted lips—swollen, red—before dragging back up to meet her gaze.Caitlyn felt it like a physical thing, that weight, that sharp awareness settling between them.Then, slowly, Vi inhaled. A deep, grounding breath. Her eyes fluttered shut for half a second before she exhaled, long and controlled.
   "Vi, if you don’t answer me in the next five seconds, I’m coming in. And if you’re dead, I swear to god I’ll kill you myself." 
Sarah’s voice snapped through the thick silence, her hand jiggling the handle now, testing it, pushing—Vi’s arm held firm against the door.Caitlyn saw it then.The shift.Vi wasn’t flustered. Wasn’t panicked. She was  thinking. Her gaze flickered back to Caitlyn’s, just for a second, before moving past her, scanning the room. Caitlyn could almost see the gears turning, the way Vi’s brows twitched together, the press of her lips as she chewed the inside of her cheek.Sarah tried the handle again, more forceful this time. But Vi didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. The door didn’t budge an inch under her hand.Vi’s eyes landed on the metal ice bucket sitting on the table.Caitlyn barely had a second to process before Vi turned to her, gave her a single look—something quiet, something sure, something  almost  teasing.Something that said  trust me. Caitlyn did.Vi moved, reaching her arm over, jaw twitching as she stretched too far too fast. Caitlyn saw it—the wince she barely let show, the tension in her shoulders, the way she exhaled through her nose as she grabbed the bucket’s handle.Then, without breaking stride, she tugged Caitlyn forward.Just enough to shift her. Just enough to crack the door open the smallest fraction, enough for Sarah to see the sliver of Vi’s face, the bucket shoved into her hand.Caitlyn didn’t breathe. Stayed still as stone, pressed between the door and the wall, every muscle locked. She could hear Sarah shift in the hallway.There was a pause. “Seriously?” Sarah’s voice, sharp with disbelief. “That whole f@ck@ng delay was for ice?”Vi didn’t hesitate. “I’m sore.”A beat.Then Sarah sighed. “Jesus. You want me to babysit you  and  do your chores now?”Vi’s tone was light, but curt. “I’ll unlock the door when you’re back.”Caitlyn couldn’t see her face, but she heard the edge in it. The push. The space she was carving out for her.Sarah didn’t answer for a second.“Fine. But if you’re actually bleeding out and you just want a dramatic exit, I’m not gonna be the one explaining it to your sister.”“Noted.”The bucket changed hands.Footsteps receded down the hall.The door clicked closed. The lock slid back into place. Final.Silence.Vi exhaled, leaning forward just slightly, still standing far too close. Her hand stayed on the door for a moment, fingers splayed flat against the wood. Caitlyn hadn’t moved. Couldn’t.Vi bit her lip. A subtle, nervous shift of teeth.Caitlyn didn’t move.The room was quiet. The kind of quiet that rattled in your chest. That pressed against your ribs like it was trying to dig in. Vi stood in front of the closed door, one hand still braced against it, the other hovering like she wasn’t sure what to do with it now that Caitlyn had kissed her.Caitlyn took a step back.“I didn’t come here to do that,” she said quietly.Vi blinked. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, I—”“No,” Caitlyn cut in. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who—”She stopped herself, swallowed. “I just needed to see you. I needed to know you were…” Her voice caught for half a second. “You’re standing.”Vi gave a faint, crooked smile. “Barely.”It didn’t land.Because Caitlyn was unraveling.And she didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be here—bruised and wide open and five seconds from losing her composure completely. But Vi had kissed her like she meant it. And Caitlyn had kissed her back like she  needed  it.And she did.And that made her furious.“I saw the whole thing,” Caitlyn said. “Every angle. Every onboard. Every camera feed that cut away before we could see if you moved.”Vi’s eyes dropped. “Cait—”“No. Let me say this.” Her jaw clenched, her voice thin. “I watched you take hit after hit. Watched Finn push and push, and no one did a thing to stop it. Not the stewards. Not the FIA. Not Singed. No penalties. No black flags. Nothing.”She stepped forward, just enough that Vi couldn’t look away.“And I was still in the car when it happened. Still driving. Still f@ck@ng  racing  when you were in the wall. And I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even ask.” Her breath hitched. “I just kept driving. Like that was supposed to be normal.”Vi didn’t move.Caitlyn’s fingers curled into fists.“I’m not mad at you,” she said. “I’m mad for you.”That landed.Vi’s eyes softened. Her jaw worked like she wanted to say something but didn’t have the right shape for it yet.“I didn’t say anything,” Caitlyn continued, voice dropping lower now. “At the press conference. When you—when you said what you said, I just sat there. And then I walked away.”She bit down on the inside of her cheek. The words tasted sharp. “I’ve been trying to figure out why.”Vi was quiet.“I think I was hurt. But not because it was you.” Caitlyn looked down, like the floor might give her an answer. “Because I knew it wasn’t.”And then—gently, carefully—she reached out and tapped Vi on the cheek.A soft, featherlight slap. Nothing more than a graze.Vi’s brow furrowed, startled. “What—?”“I wanted to slap you earlier,” Caitlyn muttered. “But now you’re hurt.”Vi stared at her for a beat.Then huffed a soft laugh. A real one. Low and warm and a little disbelieving. “You are so f@ck@ng weird.”Caitlyn’s mouth twitched. Almost smiled. Didn’t.The silence pressed in again. But this time, it didn’t choke.Vi stood close. Not touching. Not pushing. Just there. Caitlyn could feel her breathing.Caitlyn’s fingers twitched once, then stilled. The ache in her chest had shifted—it wasn’t panic anymore, wasn’t grief, wasn’t fury. It was something messier. Slower. A knot of too many things packed in too tight. She’d said more tonight than she meant to. Felt more than she could name.And Vi—Vi was looking at her like she didn’t mind. Like she could hold it. Like she had no intention of turning away.Which only made it worse.Caitlyn swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward the door.Vi caught it instantly. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t call it out. Just tipped her head slightly, voice low, careful.“You probably only have a few minutes before Sarah gets back.”Caitlyn’s breath caught.Vi wasn’t accusing her. Wasn’t hurt. She was offering her a way out. Gently. Quietly. No pressure.Caitlyn nodded once, sharp and shaky. She stepped toward the door without fully meeting Vi’s gaze, fingers brushing the handle like it might burn her. Her body had already decided—retreat, regroup, build the walls back up—but her mind hadn’t caught up yet.She paused. Just for a second. Just long enough to glance back.Vi hadn’t moved.Still standing by the bed in that oversized Red Bull shirt, bruised and stiff but steady. Watching her like she wanted to say something but wouldn’t unless Caitlyn asked her to.Caitlyn’s throat tightened.She opened her mouth. Closed it again. The silence stretched.Vi broke it, soft. Sure. “Congrats, by the way.”Caitlyn blinked. “What?”“The race,” Vi said, her voice dipping into something almost warm. “You won.”Caitlyn stared at her.It hit like a slap. Not the stinging kind. The kind that knocked something loose.She had forgotten.Actually forgotten.The race. The pole. The win.All of it felt like it belonged to a different version of her—one who hadn’t sat frozen in a hotel room waiting for news. One who hadn’t kissed Vi like her life depended on it. One who hadn’t realized how f@ck@ng close she’d come to losing something she wasn’t supposed to want in the first place.“I—” Caitlyn faltered, then bit down a breath. “Thank you.”Vi gave her a faint, crooked smile. “Told you I’d make you earn it.”Caitlyn almost smiled back.Almost.But her hand was already on the doorknob. Her body already turning. The moment already slipping.“I’ll…” she started, then didn’t finish.Vi just nodded. “I know.”Caitlyn hesitated.Then she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.The lock clicked softly behind her.And Caitlyn—standing alone now, heart still pounding—realized she hadn’t taken a full breath since she walked in.  The door clicked shut with a soft, final thunk.Vi didn’t move.She just stood there, one hand braced against the wood, ribs aching, lungs tighter than they had been all night. The silence that followed wasn’t the kind that left room to breathe. It just filled the space she’d left behind.She hadn’t expected Caitlyn to stay. That had never been on the table.But the moment she was gone, Vi felt it anyway—like a pulled thread, something unraveling slow and inevitable at the center of her chest.Not disappointment.Just absence.Caitlyn had looked at her like she didn’t know what to do with her hands, with her voice, with the way her heart was trying to escape through her throat. Like she’d spent all night holding herself together, only to fall apart in increments at the seams.Vi pressed her palm to her face, dragged it down slowly. Her skin was still warm where Caitlyn had touched her. Still stung, just a little, where that featherlight slap had landed.
   “I wanted to slap you earlier,” she’d said, soft and raw, “but now you’re hurt.” 
Vi snorted under her breath, the sound more breath than laugh.God, she was so f@ck@ng gone.She eased herself down onto the bed with a soft grunt, one hand braced against the mattress, careful not to jar her ribs. The room felt different now. Quieter. Like it had been holding its breath while Caitlyn was here, and now it was exhaling.She stared at the floor for a long moment. Then at the door.And just as the silence started to settle again—The lock clicked.Sarah re-entered like a storm front, bucket of ice in one hand, plastic takeout bag in the other, her sunglasses still perched in her hair. “Alright,” she announced, not looking up, “I brought carbs, sugar, something vaguely resembling protein, and enough electrolytes to keep your stubborn ass vertical.”Vi blinked at her.Sarah glanced over. Paused. “You look like you saw a ghost.”Vi coughed, straightened up. “Just moved too fast.”Sarah’s brow twitched, but she didn’t press. She set the bag on the table and rifled through it, pulling out containers. “You’re a mess,” she said casually. “When you win a race, you look like a rockstar. When you crash out, you look like something that fell out of a moving truck.”Vi dragged herself back to the bed and sank down with a wince. “You’re poetic as ever.”“I try.”She passed over a container and a fork without comment, then dropped into the chair beside the window. The light from the bedside lamp cut across her face, made the shadows look deeper under her eyes. She didn’t say anything for a while, just opened her own food and poked at it.The TV played in the background—some late-night movie neither of them were watching.Vi focused on her food. Or tried to. Everything tasted like cardboard. Her ribs ached. Her fingers twitched.She felt Sarah’s gaze slide her way once. Twice.“So.”Vi looked up.Sarah’s tone was mild, almost lazy. “You gonna tell me what the hell that was out there?”Vi didn’t flinch. “He was reckless.”“Mm. No sh@t.”Silence again.Sarah’s fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the container. “I counted four separate moments he should’ve been flagged. And that’s just the ones on camera.”Vi didn’t answer.Sarah exhaled slowly. “Nobody stepped in.”Vi met her eyes for the first time. “You’re mad.”“Understatement,” Sarah muttered. “But yeah. I’m mad.”Vi nodded. “Me too.”Nothing more needed to be said.Eventually, Sarah leaned back in her chair, propping one booted foot on the edge of the bed. “Don’t die on me, Lanes. I’m too tired to train someone else how to p@ss me off properly.”Vi huffed a laugh. “Noted.”The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. Just… quiet. Familiar.Vi let her head tip back against the pillows, ribs aching in a slow, steady throb. The TV played something she wasn’t following—Sarah had settled into the chair by the window, half-watching, half-scrolling through her phone.Vi didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Sarah didn’t ask questions she knew wouldn’t get answers tonight.Eventually, Vi shifted, pulling the blanket up with a wince, letting her body sink just a little deeper into the mattress.She wasn’t thinking about the wreck. Not the near-miss, not the replay on loop in her head.She was thinking about Caitlyn. Standing in her doorway like the floor had just dropped out beneath her.Vi’s fingers flexed at her side.She wasn’t stupid. She knew Caitlyn had run.But she had also come.And that was something.Vi let her eyes fall shut, her breathing even out.Didn’t let herself smile.But didn’t stop it, either.  The hospital smelled the same.Too clean. Too sharp. Like someone had tried to scrub the place down so hard it forgot how to feel like anything other than a memory Vi didn’t want to have.She tried not to breathe too deep as she limped through the corridor, one hand braced against the wall, the other clutching her release paperwork. Powder was walking beside her—just a step behind, like she wasn’t sure if Vi was going to make a break for it.“Your ribs good?” Powder asked, her voice light, but Vi caught the way her eyes flicked down toward her side. “You’re walking like a scarecrow.”Vi grunted. “I’m walking like someone who got turned into a f@ck@ng jigsaw puzzle on international broadcast.”“Hmm. Should’ve seen the camera angles. Looked worse from some of ‘em.”“Comforting.”Powder shrugged. “You want a lie, or you want me to tell you you looked like you got launched out of a cannon?”Vi gave her a look. “Not helping.”“I know.” Powder sighed, then pulled open the door to the private exam room Clegg had told them to report to. “But if I don’t talk, I’m gonna throw up.”Vi paused in the doorway, glancing at her.Powder wouldn’t look back.Vi stepped inside.Same too-white lights. Same hum of machines. Same scent of antiseptic that made her want to crawl out of her skin.But Powder was there. And Vi was older now. Taller. Stronger. She wasn’t the kid who’d stood here all those years ago trying to keep Powder from crying with blood still on her sneakers and her throat scraped raw.She wasn’t that girl anymore.She didn’t feel like that girl anymore.But her chest still clenched the same.Doctor Clegg looked up from his notes as they entered, brow arched, expression unreadable. “You made it. Shocking.”“Don’t act so excited,” Vi muttered.Clegg tapped the folder on his knee. “I’ve got a daughter who’d disown me if I didn’t clear her favorite driver.”Vi blinked. “You’re kidding.”“I’m not.” Clegg sighed. “You’re on a poster in her room. So, as a personal favor to me, and a professional favor to my license, please don’t die.”Powder choked out a laugh. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”Clegg’s tone shifted, just slightly. “I’m clearing you for training. Not racing. You’ll come back for a full scan after your next run. If anything’s off, you sit. No debates.”Vi opened her mouth.“Not a suggestion,” he added, cutting her off.Vi shut her mouth.Clegg stood, scribbling something down on the file. “You’re lucky. You know that?”Vi didn’t respond.He handed her the signed forms, then looked between them. “Don’t make me see you again this month.”“Do our best,” Powder said, all sugary sweet.Clegg left.For a moment, it was just them again. The door swinging shut. The silence settling.Vi sat down on the edge of the bed, slow and careful. Her ribs still ached like hell. Her entire body felt like it had gone twelve rounds with something unholy.“You didn’t sleep,” Powder said.“Neither did you.”They didn’t have to say it out loud.Vi stared at the floor.Powder sat beside her, pulling her legs up onto the bed, arms curled around her knees.“I used to think these places were safe,” Powder said, voice soft. “All white walls and quiet halls. But… they’re not. Not really.”Vi didn’t answer.She didn’t need to.Powder tilted her head. “You remember the vending machine in the old hospital?”Vi blinked.“Yeah.”It came out rough. Quiet. Like the memory tasted wrong in her mouth.Powder nudged her with her knee. “You broke it trying to get me peanut bars.”Vi huffed. “Because you wouldn’t stop crying.”“You told me they cured nightmares.”“They did,” Vi said, deadpan.Powder rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of sh@t.”Vi didn’t argue. Didn’t smile, either.They let the quiet stretch again. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar.Powder fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. “I hated that place.”Vi stayed still.“I mean—” Powder hesitated. “It wasn’t all bad. You were there. You always made it feel… less scary. But it wasn’t good either. I used to think I just didn’t remember it right.”Vi’s voice came low. “You remember it fine.”Another beat passed. Then Powder leaned her head against Vi’s shoulder, gentle like she was afraid she’d break something.“I hate that you’re back here.”Vi didn’t say anything.She didn’t have to.The sterile light above them buzzed like it was trying to fill the silence. It couldn’t.Powder’s voice dropped to a murmur. “You really scared me.”Vi swallowed hard. “I know.”“You didn’t look scared,” Powder said. “You looked—empty.”Vi closed her eyes.Because yeah. That’s what it felt like.Like something had gone out of her, mid-spin. Like everything had narrowed down to the sound of her own breath and the crush of metal and the kind of silence that made your blood run cold.“Sorry,” Vi muttered, after a while.Powder didn’t respond right away.Then—soft. “Don’t be.”She didn’t say more than that. Didn’t have to. They had always been like this. Two halves of the same storm, stitched together by years of surviving the worst kind of nights.They sat like that until a nurse knocked lightly to let them know they were cleared to go.Powder stood first.Vi followed, slow and sore.The hallway felt just as white on the way out. But Powder’s hand stayed steady at her elbow, and Vi didn’t shake her off.She didn’t have it in her to pretend today.And Powder didn’t make her.   Vi hadn’t been here before. Not this specific place, anyway. It was local—some Noxian chain with chrome tabletops and deep booths, menus laminated and peeling at the edges. The kind of spot that had too many sauces and one wall covered in old race photos, most of them water-damaged or sun-faded.She sat in the corner booth, shoulder brushing the window, hoodie too warm but necessary. The table was cluttered with plates no one was really finishing. Burgers and chips. Onion rings. A half-eaten club sandwich with too much mayo. She wasn’t sure who had ordered that.Powder had her tablet out, of course. Balanced against the napkin holder, stylus in hand, eyes glued to the screen like she was briefing a boardroom instead of sitting across from her concussed sister.“You trended on six platforms,” Powder said, voice light like this wasn’t the third time she’d brought it up. “And Red Bull’s engagement is up twenty-two percent across all channels.”Vi blinked at her. “Neat.”“They’re running a recovery arc now. You got a sympathy bump from the fans. Post-crash photos are doing stupid numbers. Even the blurry one from the paddock with Caitlyn—”“Powder,” Vander said, not sharp, but enough.Powder rolled her eyes and shoved a fry in her mouth. “Just saying. Numbers don’t lie.”Across from her, Claggor leaned over his plate. “You feeling anything? Like, weird pain?”Vi arched a brow. “Besides the broken bones?”“Yeah, like phantom adrenaline,” Mylo added, pointing his fork at her. “I read about that. Drivers crashing and their bodies still thinking they’re racing for days after. Makes you twitchy.”“She’s already twitchy,” Powder muttered.Vi huffed and shoved a fry into her mouth to avoid saying something worse. Her ribs pulled at the motion. She didn’t wince.Vander hadn’t said much since they sat down. Just watched. Asked earlier if she wanted to come, hadn’t pushed when she hesitated, just said  “It’s good to sit with people.” Now, he sipped his coffee like it might reveal the right words, eyes still soft but searching.“You’re sure you’re cleared?” he asked quietly, voice low enough that the question didn’t interrupt the others.Vi nodded. “Clegg signed me off for training.”“But not racing.”“No.”Vander didn’t press. Just nodded like he was filing it away.Powder clicked her tongue. “Speaking of,” she said, scrolling with the tip of her stylus, “Red Bull wants you at the gala tomorrow. Charity event. Formalwear. Cameras. Smile and wave.” She looked up, deadpan. “Their words, not mine.”Vi blinked. “Tomorrow?”“‘We need to show strength. That even after yesterday, Vi Lanes stands tall,’” Powder recited with exaggerated dramatics, mimicking corporate tone. “Blah blah blah. I swear someone in marketing has a hard-on for war metaphors.”“They know you hit a wall, right?” Claggor said. “Like. With your actual body.”Powder nodded. “Oh, they know. They also know there’s already a suit reserved and press interviews slotted. They’re not giving her seventy-two hours—they’re giving her  a photo op .”Vi leaned back in the booth, stomach turning slightly. Not from the food. “It’s fine.”“It’s  b@llsh@t ,” Powder snapped. “You almost died. I saw it. And they want you in a flashy suit like nothing happened?”Vi shrugged. “What else is new?”The table fell quiet.Mylo stabbed his fry into his ketchup like it’d done something to him. Claggor just exhaled.Vander gave her a look—not pity, not softness, but  steady . “We’ve got your back,” he said, voice even. “If it’s too much, say so.”Vi didn’t answer.Not because she didn’t want to. Because she didn’t know.She reached for her water. Her fingers still shook a little.Tomorrow would come, either way. And she’d show up. Either way.Because that’s what strength looked like, right?Even when you were still figuring out if you were standing at all.  The air was thinner out here.Caitlyn’s feet pounded against the track in steady rhythm, her breath even, each stride long and precise. The sun was just starting to dip below the hills, painting the asphalt in gold and shadow, the late-afternoon heat still clinging to her skin—but she barely noticed.She couldn’t afford to.Jayce was half a lap behind, wheezing like he’d swallowed sandpaper, his footsteps heavier, uneven. He was trying to keep up—he always did—but he was losing ground fast. Caitlyn didn’t slow.She didn’t want to.She needed the burn in her legs. The pull in her lungs. The illusion that she was doing something. Moving forward. Putting distance between herself and whatever was unraveling inside her chest.It wasn’t working.By the time she reached the far curve, she knew she’d be circling back. Jayce was flagging, and if she pushed him too hard, he’d pull something and never let her live it down. She veered off course with calculated ease, jogging toward the crooked metal bench that sat just past the gate, nestled beside a rusted chain-link fence.She stopped. Straight-backed. Barely winded.Jayce staggered up behind her a moment later, hands braced on his knees, shirt soaked through with sweat.The bench was cold beneath her, the kind of cold that seeped in through the fabric of her leggings, but Caitlyn didn’t move.She hadn’t even broken a sweat.Jayce, sitting beside her, looked like he was one jog away from melting into a puddle. His chest was still heaving slightly, his water bottle half-drained. He let his head fall back against the thin metal rail behind them with a thud.“Okay,” he said between breaths, “you’re trying to kill me.”Caitlyn didn’t look at him. Her gaze was on the track, unfocused. “You kept up.”“Barely. You’ve got the intensity of a woman trying to outrun her soul.”Still, she said nothing.Jayce glanced sideways. Waited.“Cait,” he said, voice gentler now. “Talk to me.”She was silent for another beat. Her fingers tightened slightly around the bottle in her hands.“I kissed her.”Jayce blinked.“What?”Caitlyn swallowed hard. “Vi. Last night.”A beat of stillness passed.Jayce sat up a little straighter, voice soft. “Okay. Uh. Wow.”Caitlyn forced a breath in through her nose. “It was after the crash. After everything. I don’t know why I did it. It wasn’t—” She faltered. “I didn’t go there planning to do that.”Jayce stayed quiet. Let her keep talking.“It just… happened.”She finally looked at him, and her expression was unreadable, even for him.“I think I broke something,” she said, and it came out so quietly he almost missed it.Jayce frowned. “What do you mean?”Caitlyn looked back toward the track. “I shouldn’t have crossed that line.”“Why?”“Because I don’t know what it meant to her,” she said. “I don’t know what it meant to me.”Jayce hesitated. “But it meant something.”Caitlyn didn’t respond.Jayce leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. “You’ve had feelings for her. I’ve seen it., Rimira. The way you looked when you thought she might not make it out of that crash.” He shook his head. “You were wrecked.”“That doesn’t mean I get to act on it,” Caitlyn said, sharper than she meant. Then, quieter—“It doesn’t mean I should.”Jayce’s voice softened again. “You still thinking about Maddie?”Caitlyn flinched.“I saw what she did to you,” he said gently. “The way she made you feel like you had to earn the right to be loved. Like who you were wasn’t enough.”Caitlyn’s throat went tight.“She taught you how to build walls,” Jayce said. “Vi’s the first person who ever tried to climb over them.”Caitlyn swallowed, hard.“She’s my rival,” she said. “To the world. To our teams. That’s the story they’ve written for us. We’re supposed to be two sides of a war.”“Is that what it feels like?”She didn’t answer.Jayce looked at her, then asked, carefully, “Do you regret kissing her?”That made Caitlyn pause.She turned the question over in her head like a stone in her palm. Heavy. Cold. Familiar.“No,” she said eventually. “I just… don’t know what to do now.”Jayce nodded. “That’s fair.”She stared at the horizon. The clouds were starting to break, just slightly, the pale blue sky bleeding through.Jayce leaned back beside her. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once. But you don’t have to run from it, either.”Caitlyn’s lips twitched, just barely.“I’m not good at this,” she said. “At… letting people in.”“You’re better at it than you think.”She looked at him, and something in her eyes softened.She was still confused. Still reeling. Still carrying the echo of that kiss like it had etched itself into her ribs.But one thing had settled into her bones, solid and true.Caitlyn Kiramman couldn’t stop thinking about Vi.And that was a problem she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.  The Revved Up theme song blared from the hotel TV speakers—some gaudy synth remix that made Vi wince. The show was halfway through an episode she’d seen before, one of those over-produced “build battles” where two teams turned stock sedans into hideous, neon-drenched monstrosities with spoilers big enough to double as diving boards.Sarah, lounging on the second bed with a bag of gummies in her lap, was laser-focused. “Okay but this one,” she said, gesturing with a licorice whip at the screen, “this one’s kind of cunty.”Vi stared at the flaming red leopard-print sedan currently getting a ridiculous LED underglow. “Sarah, it looks like a circus threw up.”“That’s what makes it art.”Vi snorted, but her attention was barely on the screen. Her thoughts were a few hundred miles away—no, not even that. Her thoughts were only a day behind.And still at that hotel door.Caitlyn’s voice echoing in her ears. The weight of her hand against Vi’s jaw. That kiss—quick and sharp and impossibly delicate, like it hadn’t been real. Like it had been a fever dream.Vi had kissed plenty of people. But this wasn’t that.This had shifted something. And she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.Even this show—this dumb, overly dramatic car show that they had watched together in Rimira like idiots on the floor with sore legs and too many gummy bears—made her think of Caitlyn. Not because Caitlyn liked it. No. Caitlyn had torn it to shreds. Pointed out every mistake in their mod logic, scoffed at the fake wind tunnel results, mocked the way the hosts used buzzwords like "downforce" and "drag coefficient" like they had only just learned what they meant.Vi would’ve found it annoying if it wasn’t kind of… adorable. And now, even sitting here, the sound of the narrator rattling off another bad line made her think of Caitlyn rolling her eyes. Caitlyn tossing a gummy in her mouth, calling the editing "a structural crime." Caitlyn teasing her—challenging her—softening in a way Vi hadn’t realized she missed until now.That had only been… what? A week ago? Maybe eight days?It felt like a f@ck@ng lifetime.She didn’t mean to speak. It just slipped out.“What happened to her?”Sarah blinked mid-bite. “Who?”“Caitlyn.” Vi’s gaze stayed on the screen, like if she didn’t look directly at Sarah, it wouldn’t be as obvious how much she cared. “You’ve been around forever. You were there when she started, right?”Sarah blinked once, twice. Then her brow rose. “What, you don’t know? I thought you two were besties now.”Vi gave her a flat look. “Sarah.”Sarah laughed under her breath. “Okay, okay. Calm down, Lanes.” She sat up a little straighter, shifting the candy bag aside. “Seriously though, you don’t know?”Vi shook her head slowly. “Cait’s good at not saying things.”Sarah hummed. “Yeah, that tracks.”Vi waited.Sarah tossed another gummy in her mouth, chewed, then spoke like she was settling into a good bit of gossip. “Alright. You remember that reporter? Redhead. Kinda bitchy. Maddie Nolen.”Vi’s jaw tensed instantly. “The one from Noxian Post?”“Bingo. She’s been giving me hell since I got hired.” Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Always asking some backhanded question like she’s auditioning for a villain role in a soap opera.”Vi scowled. “I hate her.”“Well, she used to be Caitlyn’s girlfriend.”Silence.Vi blinked. “What?”“Deadass,” Sarah said, with all the gravity of a woman delivering state secrets. “They were front-page news for a while. F1’s golden girl, fresh off her second championship, with the sharp-tongued media darling on her arm. Every stupid gossip rag had them plastered across their front pages. It was exhausting.”Vi’s mind reeled. “Wait, wait—what? Maddie? That Maddie?”Sarah nodded. “Oh yeah. And it got ugly. I remember waking up one morning to headlines like ‘Kiramman’s Legacy Questioned in New Exposé.’ Turns out Maddie transferred to the Noxian Post and her debut piece was a hit job. Not just on Caitlyn—but on the whole Kiramman name.”Vi felt her stomach twist.The word echoed in her skull.Legacy.The same word she had used.The same one she’d spit out like a weapon in that press room, with Caitlyn beside her, trying to keep her face neutral as the whole world leaned in to listen.Vi’s breath left her slow and shallow.Sarah didn’t notice. She was still going.“Look,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “Caitlyn’s a d@mn good driver. Her father’s name or not. Anyone with two brain cells and access to lap times can tell you that. But that article—it hit. Hard. Maddie painted her like a product of privilege. Implied she hadn’t earned sh@t. It was cheap. And Caitlyn…”Sarah trailed off. “She didn’t really come back from that. Not all the way.”Vi stayed still.The word tasted worse now. Legacy. It felt sharp in her mouth. Like she’d swallowed glass and only now realized it was cutting on the way down.She remembered asking Caitlyn once—more than once—what happened. Why she always locked herself down so tight. Why she acted like vulnerability was a landmine waiting to go off.Caitlyn had always answered in vague metaphors. Duty. Image. Expectation.Vi hadn’t known there was a person behind it.Now she did.“Jesus,” she muttered.Sarah finally glanced over. “You okay?”Vi nodded once.Then lied. “Yeah.”The show kept playing. Some other ridiculous mod. Some laugh track, over-the-top edit. Vi didn’t really hear it.All she could hear was Caitlyn’s voice in that hallway, shaking. All she could feel was the weight of her hand against her jaw.Vi closed her eyes for a second.Maddie f@ck@ng Nolen.The crash. The press conference. The look on Caitlyn’s face when she said the word.It made her stomach churn.She should’ve known.No. She should’ve asked.Sarah grabbed the remote, flipping the volume down, already scrolling through her phone like none of this mattered.But Vi stayed quiet.The word still echoing in her head.Legacy.  The zipper clicked into place with a quiet finality.Caitlyn stepped back from the mirror, taking herself in with the kind of clinical distance she reserved for high-pressure media days and Mercedes sponsor events. The dress was sleek—midnight navy silk, strapless, with a cut that made it impossible to pretend she hadn’t chosen it with some intention. Not that she’d ever admit it.Not that she even knew who the intention was for.She looked good. Not in the way she usually aimed for—precise, sharp, unshakable—but in a way that felt almost… disarming. The kind of good that turned heads for the wrong reasons. Or the right ones. Depending.The slit up the side was just high enough to walk the line between elegance and risk. The heels added an inch and a half of poise she didn’t need, but tonight wasn’t about comfort. It was about control. About keeping the headlines clean, the questions deflected, the mask polished to a mirror shine.The gala would be a blur—handshakes, press photos, Ambessa’s inevitable lecture delivered through teeth-clenched smiles. Mel and Viktor with drinks in hand, Jayce playing distraction, talking too loud and laughing too hard.It would all be over in a few hours. Then she'd go back to her room. Order something absurdly overpriced and bland from the late-night menu. Watch some poorly dubbed sitcom until her eyes gave up.That was the plan.It had to be.Because anything else—anything unpredictable—wasn’t on the table. Not tonight. Not after everything.Caitlyn slipped her earrings into place, fastened the delicate chain around her neck. Gave herself one last look in the mirror.The girl looking back at her didn’t flinch.She never did.  The suit fit too well.Vi adjusted the jacket in the mirror, tugging at the cuffs, fingers smoothing along the lapels. It was sharp, tailored within an inch of its life, and paired with a dark dress shirt that left just the right amount of collar open. She looked good.Almost normal.If you didn’t count the limp. Or the stiff way she held herself. Or the makeup caked over the bruises just visible beneath her jaw.The Red Bull media team had done their job. Covered the worst of it. Masked the hollow under her eyes, evened out the color where she’d still been turning an impressive shade of purple.But no one could do anything about how she  felt .Still, it was nice to have a moment. A moment without someone watching her, hovering, checking if she was breathing at regular intervals. Sarah had been glued to her side for most of the day. Vander and Powder had taken shifts. Even Mylo had gotten in a crack about installing a baby monitor in her room.Vi hadn’t been alone in forty-eight hours.And now, with the soft hum of the hotel AC and the dull light of the overheads casting long shadows, she finally  was .She didn’t let herself enjoy it too long.The knock came before she could start slipping into her own thoughts, and with a quiet groan, Vi turned toward the door. She walked slowly, carefully, shoulders back like that would hide the wince that lanced through her ribs with every step. One foot in front of the other. Try not to look like your bones want to kill you.She pulled the door open and blinked.Jayce Talis stood in the hallway—tie half-knotted, hair too perfect to have been done himself, and an obnoxious McLaren-branded leather jacket slung over one shoulder.“You look like the opening act at a corporate fashion show,” Vi said flatly.Jayce grinned. “And you—” He gave her a long, theatrical once-over. “You look like someone who should be breaking hearts and punching photographers. Jesus, Lanes.”Vi snorted, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re the worst hype man I’ve ever had.”“I’m the  only  hype man you’ve ever had,” he replied, striding inside without waiting for permission. He took one look at the hotel room, wrinkled his nose, and added, “God, these places always smell like lemon and trauma.”Before she could respond, he turned back toward her—and, without thinking, pulled her into a hug.Vi tensed immediately. Her breath caught.“Sh@t—” Jayce backed off fast, hands up, face scrunched in regret. “Sh@t, I’m sorry, I forgot—your ribs—”Vi waved him off, though her teeth were clenched. “It’s fine. Just forgot how  affectionate  you are.”Jayce gave her a sheepish smile. “Right. No touching. Copy that.”There was a pause.Then he gestured at her outfit again, stepping back like he needed space to properly appreciate it. “But seriously, d@mn. You clean up good. You sure you’re not angling for  another  sponsorship?”Vi rolled her eyes. “Don’t give them ideas. I’m still bleeding out under this shirt.”“You  would  make internal injuries look cool.”They shared a grin.And then Jayce’s smile faded just a little. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly unsure, the shift so subtle Vi almost missed it.“I, uh—was gonna come by last night,” he said. “After Caitlyn. But Viktor told me to give you space. Said you probably needed a minute to breathe.”Vi’s breath caught. Caitlyn.Her name dropped into the room like a weight.Jayce seemed to realize it instantly—his posture shifted, like he’d said too much. His gaze flicked away, toward the TV. “I mean. It wasn’t, you know. I didn’t mean—”“How is she?”The question came out before Vi could think. Simple. Sharp. Honest.Jayce hesitated. Then looked back at her.“She’s… okay,” he said. “I think. In that very Caitlyn way of pretending she’s okay until she breaks something.”Vi nodded slowly.She hadn’t seen her since  that  night. Not properly. Not up close.Well—no. That wasn’t true.She  had  seen her.Last night. Briefly. Walking back from dinner with Powder, Vi had spotted her across the street, flanked by Mel, her hands tucked into her coat, brows furrowed in thought like always. She hadn’t seen Vi. Hadn’t looked.But Vi had.And she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.Jayce was watching her now, carefully. Not saying anything else. Not pressing.Which Vi appreciated.“C’mon,” he said after a beat, clapping his hands together like he was physically shaking the tension out of the air. “Let’s go get this over with.”Vi raised a brow. “Looking forward to it?”“Only the part where I eat free food and avoid my team principal like she’s a tax auditor.”“Sounds like a dream.”Jayce snorted. “Trust me, the gala’s a whole event. Shiny lights, overpriced wine, charity auction nonsense, a bunch of old-money sponsors pretending they know what torque is.” He paused. “You’ll hate it.”Vi gave him a crooked grin. “Good.”He grinned back.softer, quieter—he added, “Glad you’re coming, though.”Vi tilted her head.Jayce’s eyes didn’t flinch. “Glad you’re here.”The words lingered in the air for a second. Not too heavy. But not light, either.Vi didn’t say anything.She didn’t need to.She just nodded once, slow and real.And then they headed out together.  Vi was already over it.She’d been here fifteen minutes, max—just enough time to flash her badge, skirt around the media pen, dodge two Red Bull execs, and fake a smile at a woman in gold lamé who claimed to be the wife of a minor sponsor. And she was done.The gala was in full swing. Crystal chandeliers glinted above polished marble floors. Waiters wove through clusters of people with trays of tiny, overpriced food Vi couldn’t pronounce. Live classical music filled the space from an actual string quartet tucked in the far corner, their bows sweeping over violins like they were trying to cast a spell on the room.It wasn’t working.Vi stood at the bar, one elbow braced lightly on the counter, doing her best not to visibly limp. Her suit was sharp—tailored within an inch of its life, dark with a blood-red pocket square, because Red Bull had insisted—but even with the makeup artist’s best efforts, she still looked tired. Still felt tired. Every breath pulled too much at her ribs, and the painkillers were already wearing thin.She knew she shouldn’t be here. She should be horizontal, watching sh@tty television and icing her spine, but no—this was PR. Damage control. Image maintenance. Red Bull needed her to be seen, needed the world to believe that Vi Lanes, the girl who crumpled against the wall at 180mph just two days ago, was standing strong."Resilient," Powder had said, mocking the exec’s script. "‘A bold symbol of resilience and team spirit in the face of adversity.’ Seriously. They should get someone to write that sh@t who doesn’t sound like they’re pitching a Marvel reboot."Vi had rolled her eyes at the time. Now she just wanted a drink."Whiskey. Rocks." Her voice was hoarse even to her own ears.The bartender nodded and turned to pour. Vi exhaled, finally letting some of the tension out of her spine as her eyes swept the room. Drivers clustered with team staff, sponsors holding court in velvet-backed chairs. Finn was on the far side of the room, dressed like a smug little f@ck in all black, his hair slicked back, surrounded by Ferrari’s upper brass. Laughing. Untouched. Unbothered.Vi felt her jaw lock, but then she noticed it—the sideways glances, the forced smiles. People were watching him differently tonight. Like they knew. Like they’d seen it, felt it, and hadn’t quite decided what it meant yet.It didn’t make up for the fact that he was here at all, but it helped.The bartender returned, placing the glass in front of her. Vi reached for it.And it was immediately slammed back down against the wood.She flinched. Powder stood beside her, mouth tight, brow lifted like she was the older sister."Are you out of your mind?" Powder hissed. "You’re on painkillers, dumbass."Vi winced, caught off guard. "You trying to shatter my wrist or just my pride?""I’ll shatter your jaw next if you even sniff that whiskey," Powder muttered, stealing the glass and shoving it down the bar. “Jesus, Vi. You can’t go getting all stoic and tragic in front of the vultures.”“I wasn’t. I’m just…” Vi sighed, turning slightly so she could lean her hip against the bar instead. “Standing. Breathing.”“Dramatically.”Vi huffed. “So, what, I’m supposed to smile and talk about the weather? Shake hands and give a TED Talk on spinal contusions?”Powder narrowed her eyes. “You’re supposed to not make it worse.”"Too late for that."Before Powder could retort—before Vi could find another excuse to feel bitter—the room shifted.The music didn’t stop, but the volume dropped as conversations dimmed. Like something in the air had shifted. A subtle hush spread from the door inward, as if someone had opened a window and let all the oxygen out.Powder’s scolding quieted.Vi turned toward the entrance, already feeling the hairs at the back of her neck rise.And there she was.Caitlyn Kiramman, walking beside her parents. Tobias in a bespoke tuxedo, presence commanding as always. Cassandra in silver silk, effortless and elegant. Mel followed just a step behind, radiant in a backless deep green number, all confidence and grace.But Vi only saw her.Still the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.Caitlyn’s dress was sleek and high-collared, navy with a structured neckline and a slit that revealed just enough leg to be tasteful, and just enough to make Vi's chest hurt. Her hair was swept back, jewelry understated, every inch of her made for rooms like this—but still, somehow, still, she looked like she hated being here.Like she was running out of patience but holding her posture anyway. Like she'd rather be anywhere else.Vi didn’t realize she was staring until Powder bumped her with an elbow.“Close your mouth,” she muttered.Vi didn’t. Couldn’t. Caitlyn hadn’t even seen her yet—her eyes were straight ahead, expression polite, neutral, perfect.Vi swallowed hard. Shifted her weight. Felt her ribs ache.Because the last time she’d seen Caitlyn—really seen her—there were no cameras, no crowds. Just silence and short breaths and lips pressed against hers like maybe something might give.And now?Now she looked untouchable again.Vi tore her eyes away. Tried to.But God. She really was so f@ck@d.  Jayce had seen Caitlyn Kiramman walk into a hundred rooms before.And yet, somehow, this still felt different.He had a half-finished drink in his hand and Viktor at his side, tucked into a quiet corner of the gala floor beneath one of the hanging art installations—some ridiculous Noxian thing with metal shards suspended by wire that looked like it might impale a guest if someone sneezed too hard.His eyes trailed toward the entrance the second the room shifted, voices dimming just enough to signal someone important had arrived. He wasn’t surprised when it was Caitlyn, flanked by Tobias and Cassandra, Mel trailing like an afterthought behind them.She looked... unreal.“I thought she said she was going to ‘blend in,’” Jayce muttered, swirling the amber in his glass with idle amusement. “Subtle.”Viktor didn’t look up from his drink. “Mm. Your definition of subtle is wildly optimistic.”“I mean, look at her.”“I am,” Viktor replied smoothly. “So is everyone else.”Jayce smirked, eyes dragging back across the crowd—and there, just beyond the bar, was Vi.Slouched. Injured. Looking like she would’ve rather been literally anywhere else on the planet.And staring at Caitlyn like someone had sucker-punched her in the gut.Jaw slack, glass forgotten, body frozen like she’d just seen a ghost. Or maybe something worse—something she wanted, badly, and had no idea how to ask for.Jayce watched the moment play out from a distance, quietly sipping his drink. Caitlyn hadn’t noticed her yet—too busy doing her duty, nodding politely to aristocrats and PR executives, exchanging small talk with a smile that was so practiced it might as well have been carved out of stone.But then—she looked up.Swept the room with the precision of someone who knew how to read threats and allies alike.And her eyes landed on Vi.Jayce didn’t need to hear anything to know that something clicked.The air between them changed. The entire mood did.Caitlyn stilled for a second, like her body forgot how to move, and Jayce watched something slip in behind her expression—something raw. Something  real.  She didn’t look confused or guarded or even poised. She looked caught.And Vi—Vi didn’t even try to look away.“Holy sh@t,” Viktor murmured beside him.Jayce turned slightly. Viktor’s eyes were still fixed across the room, unreadable but sharp.“I think Cait might be in love,” Viktor added, quiet, like he almost didn’t mean to say it out loud.Jayce snorted into his drink. “You’re late to the party.”Viktor’s brow arched. “You knew?”Jayce gave a casual shrug. “I saw her cry in her hotel room because she thought Vi was dead. Doesn’t exactly take a genius.”Viktor glanced at him sideways. “ You  were in the bed?”Jayce grinned. “Don’t be jealous, babe. She needed a very firm, very well-moisturized emotional support system.”“You’re an idiot.”Jayce bumped his shoulder gently. “And yet, here you are.”Viktor didn’t smile, not quite, but his mouth twitched—just enough to count.Across the room, Vi finally seemed to register herself again. Her expression shifted—shoulders straightening, eyes hardening, like she was trying to rebuild whatever defenses Caitlyn’s entrance had just shattered.Caitlyn, for her part, looked away first.But Jayce didn’t miss the way her fingers twitched at her side. Like she’d wanted to cross the room. Like maybe, if this night were a different kind of story, she would’ve.“You think they’ll talk?” Viktor asked, voice low.Jayce drained the last of his drink. “I think they’ve been talking. They just haven’t figured out how to  say  anything yet.”Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “That’s poetic.”“I’m very deep,” Jayce said, handing Viktor his empty glass.Viktor rolled his eyes. “That’s not my job.”Jayce leaned back against the wall, eyes still drifting between Vi and Caitlyn, like he couldn’t look away from whatever slow-moving gravitational pull existed between the two of them.“It’s gonna be messy,” he said quietly.“Mm,” Viktor agreed. “It already is.”But neither of them turned away.  Vi had been hunted for less.She’d lasted maybe twenty minutes before Renni found her. Or smelled her. Or just sensed weakness like a shark. Either way, Vi barely had time to finish her glass of water (post-whiskey—thanks, Powder) before Renni was appearing at her side like smoke, all painted lips and pointed smiles.“Silco wants a word,” she said, voice low and honey-sweet in a way that set off Vi’s internal alarms. “And you’re about out of time to keep avoiding it.”Which was how Vi ended up here—perched stiffly in an ornate velvet chair at a sleek, obsidian-glass table, surrounded by more money than she’d ever seen in one room, Silco at her left, Renni to her right, and Jericho looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. And the sponsors.God, the sponsors.They were clean-shaven, expensive-watched, cologne-soaked, all of them leaning in a little too close, talking a little too loud over the buzz of the gala. Vi kept her smile fixed and sharp. Red Bull’s media training would’ve been proud.“So,” one of them said—Henrik, maybe? No, Halvorsen— definitely  Halvorsen—his teeth were too white to be real. “We were all watching from the yacht, of course—  ghastly  delay on the broadcast, can you believe it?—but even then, it was clear you had that car hooked up beautifully. The control out of turn nine?” He whistled. “Textbook.”Vi’s smile didn’t move. “Appreciate it.”Another chimed in. “Genuinely impressive. Holding off Ajax as long as you did? I mean—he’s always been a bit of a wild card, but the way you handled it—” A pause, a chuckle. “Masterclass.”Renni sipped her wine behind a bored expression.“He’s not going to last,” someone else said, voice too oily. “Finn. The stewards will bury him eventually. But you?” The man’s eyes glittered with something Vi didn’t like. “You’ve got staying power.”Vi’s jaw tensed before she forced it to relax. “Trying my best.”“Oh, please.” Halvorsen grinned. “If that was your  best , imagine what you’ll do fully healed.”A ripple of laughter around the table. Silco didn’t speak. Just sat with one hand curled around a tumbler of dark liquor, gaze fixed and unreadable.“I have to ask,” another said, folding one leg over the other, Rolex catching the light. “How  are  you? Truly. That crash looked brutal.”Vi shrugged like her ribs weren’t on fire. “All patched up.”“And mentally?” he added, faux-concern layered under every syllable. “I mean, must’ve shaken you. That kind of close call—” He trailed off, like he expected her to fill the silence with some vulnerable soundbite they could package into a press release.Vi just smiled, sharp and hollow. “Occupational hazard.”Another round of polite laughter. Another sip of something expensive. Another hour off her life expectancy.Someone clapped her on the shoulder—light, but it still sent a jolt through her spine—and said, “Well, whatever your secret is, keep doing it. P2 at Noxus after a wreck like that? People don’t forget that kind of thing.”Vi tipped her glass in mock salute. “That’s the idea.”The sponsors chuckled, rising as a unit as if summoned elsewhere by the scent of a more important driver.“Lovely to meet you,” one said, shaking her hand with a grip that told her he didn’t mean it.“Take care of yourself, Vi,” another added, too-sincere.As the last of their overly manicured hands slipped from her line of sight, Vi finally let the smile drop. Her back hit the chair like she’d been deflated.Silco hadn’t said a word.And Renni?Renni was watching her like she was trying to decide if Vi was a hero or an idiot. Maybe both.Vi exhaled.Then, finally—quietly, like she knew what came next wasn’t for PR ears—“Alright,” she said, eyes flicking to Silco. “We done playing nice?”Renni sighed, long and through her nose, and leaned her elbow on the table, swirling what remained of her drink. “No one’s ever nice in these rooms. But yes. For now.”Vi didn’t look at her. Just kept her eyes fixed on the dark swirl of her own glass. “Fantastic.”There was a beat. Then, Renni’s voice—less flippant. Softer. “You alright?”Vi turned her head. Not all the way. Just enough to let her see the edge of Renni’s expression—casual, but not careless.It threw her off.“Physically?” Vi asked, sharp. “I should be in a bed. On actual pain meds. Preferably somewhere where I don’t have to talk to @ssh@l@s in three-thousand-dollar suits who think near-death is a branding opportunity.”Renni blinked. “So… mostly fine?”Vi gave her a look. “Peachy.”Jericho laughed, full and honest from where he lounged back in his chair. “G@dd@mn, Lanes. I was impressed. I’ve never seen you keep that many fake smiles going without threatening someone under your breath.”Vi cracked half a grin. “Growth.”“Or meds,” Jericho offered.Vi tilted her glass in a faux toast. “Little column A, little column B.”Renni shook her head, but she looked faintly amused. Still, something lingered in her expression—something unreadable Vi didn’t want to unpack.Silco, quiet until now, spoke. Voice even. Measured. Laced with steel.“Finn Ajax should be behind bars.”The table stilled.Vi’s shoulders tensed. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.Silco continued, calm and cutting, like a scalpel through silk. “There will be a meeting with Singed tomorrow. Private. No media. I’ve already pulled footage, incident reports, telemetry.” His gaze flicked to her, sharp and unwavering. “You will not engage him. Not in the paddock. Not in press. Not even in passing. Understood?”Vi clenched her jaw. “You think I want to talk to him?”“I think you’ll do what you always do when someone pokes too hard,” Silco said. “And I’m telling you: this? This drama? It’s not good press. We already let the world see you bleed.”That last word sat heavy.He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t slam the table. But Vi could feel the fury there, simmering just beneath the surface. Cold. Dangerous.And, for once, not aimed at her.She met his gaze, something sour curling in her chest. He’d made her do a lot of things—bad things, stupid things, things she regretted.But right now?Right now, he was protecting her.She didn’t know how to feel about that.Before she could figure it out, the overhead speakers clicked—and the room shifted. Lights dimmed just slightly, voices lowered, the hum of attention pulling toward the stage.“Is this thing on?”The unmistakable voice of Tobias Kiramman rang out, amused and off-mic as he tapped at the podium.A ripple of laughter moved through the ballroom. Vi looked up just in time to see the older man grin, charming as ever, as he stepped fully into the spotlight in his signature velvet tux jacket and absurd paisley tie.“Oh good, it is,” he said cheerfully. “Figured I’d ask before I started insulting Noxian wine.”More laughter.Silco leaned in, voice lower now, a shift back to business. “Go. Your table’s front right.”Vi stood, slowly. Her ribs pulled tight. Her hip protested. She didn’t let it show.Silco looked at her once more before she stepped away. “P2 was impressive,” he said quietly. “But I want a win next race.”Vi smirked. “You and me both.”Then she slipped away from the table, the weight of the room settling back around her as she moved—back straight, chin up, every step a practiced performance.Let them look.Let them see she was still standing.  Caitlyn had been bracing herself for this.She sat at the front-most table, just to the right of the stage, the linen napkin in her lap already twisted into a soft, nervous knot. Her father was mid-story—already two jokes in, one of which had involved her accidentally reversing into a team principal’s golf cart at age twelve. It was mortifying. It was annual. It was tradition.And still, it made her smile.The charity gala always landed midseason, nestled into the tight chaos of the Noxian Grand Prix weekend—Mercedes’ home turf. It was a yearly evening of red carpet charm and expensive fundraising, a rare moment of warmth in a circuit known for chewing people up and spitting them out. And for Caitlyn, it meant one thing more than any other.Her father.She’d never admit it aloud, but she loved seeing him up there. Rambling. Cracking his terrible jokes. Always managing to tie it all back to why the gala mattered. Why racing mattered.She loved the way he looked when he talked about the sport—like it still made him feel like a kid.“Big congrats to all our drivers for surviving the first half of the season,” Tobias was saying now, voice ringing across the ballroom, hands gesturing wildly. “Tightest leaderboard I’ve seen in years. It’s anyone’s game, folks. Anyone’s.”He winked. Directly at her.Caitlyn ducked her head slightly, rolling her eyes behind her wine glass as Jayce stifled a laugh beside her.She felt it.Movement at her side.A chair being pulled out.The quiet shift of fabric and breath and the tiniest, most suppressed sound of pain.Caitlyn didn’t turn right away. She didn’t need to. She’d know the shape of Vi Lanes anywhere.The seat beside her filled in the corner of her vision. Sharp suit. Short pink hair. The profile of someone trying not to grimace as they adjusted in their chair, like sitting through this speech was going to be its own kind of endurance test.Caitlyn held her breath.They hadn’t been this close since—No. Not going there. Not here. Not now.She finally glanced over.Vi was already looking at her.And the expression on her face—it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t cocky. It was… open. Quiet. Something Caitlyn hadn’t seen before. Or maybe had seen but never let herself recognize.Vi smiled, soft and brief.Caitlyn returned it before she even realized she had.Then looked away, cheeks flushed, refocusing with laser precision on the stage.Tobias had shifted topics, his tone warming as he gestured toward the wide display of artwork lining the ballroom walls. “As you know, tonight’s gala supports the Global Junior Karting Initiative—a program focused on giving underprivileged kids around the world a fair shot at motorsport. That means kids in Zaun, in Ionia, in the tougher parts of Piltover, too. Places that don’t have a track ten minutes away or a trust fund waiting to pay for tires.”He paused.Caitlyn knew what was coming.“I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating—Formula 1 shouldn’t be a playground for the rich. I came from dirt roads and borrowed helmets. I know how far a shot it is for most kids to get anywhere near this world. So tonight, if you’ve got a few extra thousand jingling in your pocket, buy a painting. Sponsor a kart. Hell, buy a kart.”Laughter again.Caitlyn’s eyes flicked toward the wall of art installations. Abstract pieces. Some strange, some striking. All donated.“I know what this sport gave me,” Tobias went on, quieter now. “And I know what it took from me, too. But I wouldn’t trade a d@mn second of it if it meant I never got to stand here and say—midseason, and my daughter’s still in the fight.”Caitlyn stilled.He raised a glass toward her. “Proud of you, Cait.”Applause. She managed a small smile, feeling Vi shift beside her.And then—under the table—she felt it.A brief touch. Just pressure. The side of Vi’s boot nudging against her ankle. Soft and tentative and barely there.Then it was gone.Caitlyn’s heart stuttered.She didn’t look at Vi. Not yet. But she didn’t pull away either.Tobias cleared his throat. “And speaking of fighters…”Caitlyn stiffened.“I want to take a moment to acknowledge what we all saw in Noxus just two days ago. The kind of crash that freezes your blood. The kind that every driver, every engineer, every d@mn fan dreads. And yet…”He turned toward the table.Toward Vi.“Our very own Vi Lanes is here tonight.”A wave of applause rippled through the room. All eyes shifted.Vi didn’t move.Caitlyn risked a glance.Vi looked… cornered. Not overwhelmed. Just bracing. Her back straighter than before. Her expression like she was holding something heavy behind her teeth.Caitlyn’s hand didn’t move.But her leg did.She pressed her calf gently into Vi’s, just enough that it was felt. A quiet reminder.You’re here. You’re okay. You don’t have to do anything but breathe.Vi didn’t look at her.But she nodded—to the room. To Tobias.To the noise.Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.Tobias continued, voice more earnest now. “Vi—what you walked away from, most don’t. And what you’ve already given to this season, to the grid, to fans across the world—well. That’s something worth applauding, too.”He raised his glass again. “Hell of a drive. And one hell of a future.”The room followed his lead.Applause again, louder now.Caitlyn’s chest ached.She didn’t look at Vi.Not yet.She didn’t want to see what it looked like when you were still trying to convince yourself you deserved to be standing.But she kept her leg pressed gently against hers.And Vi didn’t move away.  The press had finally started to clear out, ushered back into the velvet-lined corners of the ballroom where their cameras couldn’t catch the more human moments of the night. The part of the gala meant for charity and champagne and whispers behind crystal glasses.Vi exhaled, not out of relief—she hadn’t really been holding her breath—but something close.Her ribs ached. Her spine hurt from sitting upright too long. Her suit, tailored sharp and perfect, felt like it was hiding the fact that she was hanging on by a thread. But even in a room full of trained eyes, only one pair mattered.And right now, Caitlyn Kiramman’s leg was pressed against hers beneath the table.It was subtle. Soft. Probably nothing to anyone else. But not to her. Not to Vi.Across from them, Jayce was recounting some ridiculous run-in with a sponsor who wouldn’t stop asking if he’d be willing to “casually wear” their watch in the post-race interviews.“Guy had the gall to say I looked ‘approachable but not aspirational,’” Jayce said, affronted, waving his glass for dramatic effect. “What the hell does that even mean?”Sevika snorted. “Means you look like a tax bracket they can sell to.”Viktor hummed into his drink. “He’s not wrong.”Mel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, I’d say Jayce is aspirational—he makes being this loud look like a skillset.”Laughter all around.Except Vi.She stayed quiet. A beat behind the conversation, laughter dying in her throat. She wasn’t used to being quiet. Not in rooms like this. Usually, she’d be in the thick of it—charming, loud, making people forget how close she lived to danger.But she didn’t want to speak.Not when the only thing she could think about was Caitlyn’s leg against hers. Caitlyn’s hand earlier that night, barely brushing hers under the table. Caitlyn’s eyes, darting sideways, then forward again like looking at Vi too long would undo her.Vi didn’t want to break the moment.She sat up, ribs protesting with the movement, but she ignored it. Didn’t move her leg. Just straightened her spine, reached for something in herself she hadn’t used in a while.Confidence.Bravado.Charm.She stood, the movement slow and careful but not hesitant. Then she extended her hand toward Caitlyn, palm up, fingers open.“Dance with me?”Caitlyn blinked, blue eyes wide like Vi had said something scandalous. Around them, the string quartet had shifted to something livelier—still elegant, still composed, but the kind of music that made you tap your foot even if you didn’t notice.Caitlyn’s voice was soft. Controlled. “It’s not really that type of affair, Vi.”Vi tilted her head, smiling. “There’s music. I’m in a fancy suit. What type of affair is it if not one to dance at?”Caitlyn hesitated. Her face was perfect, composed, but her blush gave her away. Just a little. Just enough to make Vi want to push again, gently.“You can barely walk,” Caitlyn deadpanned, voice flat, like she was looking for a reason to say no that wouldn’t sound like a lie.Vi grinned. “Guess you’ll just have to hold me.”That got her. Caitlyn gave a look—this private, subtle thing that Vi had learned to read like a language. It said, You’re impossible. And it said, You’re not wrong. And it said, You already know I’m going to cave.But Vi backed off, just a step. Gave her space.She turned to the table instead and whistled—loud, two fingers in her mouth, sharp and effective.“Jayce. Viktor. Let’s see some moves.”Jayce’s head snapped up. “Me?”“Yeah, you,” Vi called. “You owe me. And Viktor looks like he hasn’t danced a day in his life.”“I hate you,” Viktor muttered.“You’re in love with me,” Jayce said, standing up with a ridiculous flourish and making a deep, exaggerated court bow toward Viktor. “Milord, may I have this dance?”“Oh gods,” Viktor muttered, but stood anyway. “I’m going to regret this.”He took Jayce’s hand, letting himself be pulled onto the dance floor—that was, in truth, just a stretch of open space in the center of the room. The quartet played on. And slowly, all eyes turned toward the spectacle of McLaren’s golden boy spinning his partner like they were in a g@dd@mn Regency drama.Caitlyn smiled. Couldn’t help it.Her father stood not far from the stage, and when Tobias Kiramman extended a hand toward Caitlyn’s mother with a wink, she actually laughed. Then took it. The two of them joined Jayce and Viktor, the ballroom floor growing just a little more alive.Vi sat back down with a dramatic sigh. “I tried.”Caitlyn looked over, eyes dancing. “Don’t give me that.”Vi gave her a look. “You rejected a war hero. And a girl with broken ribs.”“You’re insufferable.”“I’m adorable.”More people were joining now. Powder had found Ekko, and they were in the crowd too—Powder’s blush visible even from across the room. Vi smiled at that. Her sister, spinning in heels too big and a dress she’d once sworn she’d never wear, looking happier than she had all week.Mel stood from her seat then, graceful and controlled as always, making her way to Sevika with the kind of slow, deliberate poise that only old friends knew how to interpret.“I believe we owe them a better spectacle,” Mel murmured, and Sevika—smug—stood like she’d been waiting for the invitation all night.Vi watched it all unfold, smiling.Then turned back to Caitlyn.Still seated. Still torn between ten thousand thoughts and one thing she clearly wanted.Vi leaned in, voice lower now. “I’ll wait.”And that was all it took.Caitlyn blinked. Sat still for one more moment, like she was testing herself.She moved.Slow, elegant, sure.She stood, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she looked at Vi like she wasn’t sure if this was a terrible idea or the best one she’d had in years.Vi offered her hand again.And Caitlyn took it.  Caitlyn had never seen a gala like this one.She’d been to dozens—hundreds, maybe. They blurred together over the years: polished speeches, stiff suits, practiced smiles. Even the charity ones—especially the charity ones—were always more photo op than celebration.But this?This was life.There were people dancing. Laughing. Spinning with champagne flutes in hand. Jayce dipped Viktor dramatically while Tobias Kiramman spun his wife around with the clumsy grace of someone who had done this too many times to care how it looked. Even Sevika was smiling—sort of—as Mel led her in a slow, deliberate circle like they were orbiting each other and only each other.And in the middle of it all, Caitlyn was wrapped in Vi’s arms.One of Vi’s hands rested carefully—gently—on the small of her back, the other more secure at her waist, holding her like she might vanish if she didn’t. Caitlyn’s arms were looped around Vi’s shoulders, fingertips grazing the fabric of her jacket, her thumbs tucked lightly at the collar. They swayed slowly, even as the music picked up around them.Caitlyn felt like her nerves were strung tight, humming with every small movement.And Vi?Vi was smiling. Loose. Soft. Dangerous in the way only Vi could be.“See?” she murmured, leaning in close enough that Caitlyn could feel the words against her skin. “Told you it was a dancing kind of affair.”Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. She tried not to smile. Failed.“You’re still limping,” she said instead, biting the inside of her cheek.Vi’s grin turned smug. “You’re still holding me.”“Only because I’m being polite.”“That so?”Caitlyn hummed. “Wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of all your sponsors.”Vi chuckled low in her throat, leaning just slightly closer. “Don’t worry, cupcake. They’re all too distracted by my incredible footwork.”“You’re barely moving.”“Exactly,” Vi said, cocking an eyebrow. “Efficiency.”God, Caitlyn thought. She was doomed.Because it was too easy to fall into this. To forget the cameras, the teams, the old ghosts and new ones. To just… be here. Be near her. Her hands tightened slightly at Vi’s shoulders, and she didn’t even notice until her fingers were curling into the short hairs at the nape of her neck, swirling absentmindedly like muscle memory.Vi didn’t say anything. But she noticed. Caitlyn could feel the change in the way her hands held her. The way she leaned in just a little closer. Not pushing. Just… here.The space between them was too small. And too much.And maybe that’s why it stung, just for a second, when Vi’s eyes drifted past her.Over her shoulder. Toward the edge of the dance floor.Caitlyn stilled. Followed her gaze.Sarah, dancing with someone Caitlyn didn’t recognize. Someone pretty. Dark hair, sharp smile, laughing like the world didn’t scare her at all.Of course.Caitlyn turned back around before she could stop herself, her stomach twisting in that way it always did when jealousy crept in—something she never admitted to feeling. Something she hated herself for.Vi’s attention snapped back instantly.“Hey,” she said, voice lower now. “You okay?”Caitlyn forced a breath through her nose. “Ambessa’s going to have my head for this.”Vi blinked. “What?”“For dancing with you,” Caitlyn said quietly. “In public.”Vi stilled for a beat.Then, with that same soft edge she always had when she was trying not to scare her off, she said, “There’s no press here.”Caitlyn didn’t respond.“I’ll bail you out right after Silco scolds me,” Vi added, the smallest smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth. “Equal exchange.”Caitlyn huffed a laugh despite herself. “You think that’s an even trade?”Vi tilted her head. “I’ll throw in a bribe.”“Oh?”“I still owe you one for that grid walk sabotage.”Caitlyn shook her head, but her smile gave her away. Her fingers hadn’t stopped moving—still idly tracing the soft hair at the base of Vi’s neck, like letting go wasn’t something her body wanted to consider just yet.Vi’s gaze flicked around the room.“My caretakers look busy,” she murmured, nodding toward Sarah, still dancing, clearly going home with whoever that was. Powder and Ekko were locked in their own little orbit, giggling, spinning too fast.Vi leaned in just slightly. “I might actually get to breathe tonight.”Caitlyn’s smile faltered, just a little.She looked up at Vi, the soft lights catching in her eyes.“How are you?” she asked.Vi blinked. Took a beat.“I’m fine,” she said, then winced. “Alright, I’m tired. I’m bruised. My ribs ache. I’m one jostle away from turning into a cautionary tale. But…”She looked down at Caitlyn. Really looked.“I’m here.”Caitlyn felt something crawl into her throat. She nodded, once. Said nothing.Vi hesitated.Then, quieter—more vulnerable than Caitlyn had ever heard her:“Do you wanna… watch a movie or something after this?”Caitlyn looked up, surprised. Her lips parted, the question on the tip of her tongue.Vi added quickly, “Just—just chill. Hang out. Nothing dramatic. I’ve got a stupid couch. You can pick something sh@tty to put on. I’ll make fun of it. We’ll fight about the plot halfway through.”Caitlyn’s brows lifted, finally finding her footing. “Weren’t you just saying you might finally get to breathe?”Vi grinned, sheepish. “Guess I’m asking if I can do that with you.”Caitlyn’s breath caught.Everything in her was still a mess. Confused. Unsteady. But one thing had never been clearer.She couldn’t stop thinking about Vi Lanes.Even if she wanted to.  It had been an hour since the dance.And only ten minutes since Vi had made her escape.The gala had been loud—too many hands on her shoulder, too many glances cast her way, too many conversations where people said  brave  like it was synonymous with  lucky  and  reckless  in the same breath. She’d made it through her obligation, smiled for the right cameras, waved at the right donors, even flirted with the idea of dessert before ducking out through the side exit.Caitlyn had hesitated when Vi suggested they hang out after. All nerves and indecision behind steady, storm-colored eyes. Vi knew that look. Had seen it all season. She knew Caitlyn would go quiet, overthink it, walk herself into a corner.So she’d left her with a choice.And now here Vi sat, back against the wall outside her hotel room, the knot of her tie loosened halfway down her chest, her dress shirt clinging in places that made her skin itch. She hadn’t even gone inside. The hallway felt bigger, quieter. Less full of ghosts.Her legs were stretched out in front of her, one shoe kicked off lazily, ribs still screaming with every twist. But the pain was manageable. It gave her something to focus on. Something real.She exhaled, checked her phone. A barrage of unread notifications: a grid post from Red Bull, a quote repost from Tobias Kiramman congratulating her on “not letting a brick wall keep her down,” Jayce tagging her in a blurry photo of the two of them.She swiped it all away.Then sighed, pushing her head back against the wall with a quiet thump.Caitlyn wasn’t coming.And that was okay.She could live with that. Tonight had already been more than she expected—more than she’d dared to hope for.So Vi let her eyes flutter closed, started to brace her hands on the carpet to push herself up, already preparing for the twinge in her back—
   Ding. 
The elevator chimed, soft and mechanical.Vi cracked one eye open.And froze.It wasn’t a couple. Wasn’t a junior driver. Wasn’t anyone laughing or drunk or distracted.It was Caitlyn.Hair up in a high ponytail, a few strands loose and curling against her cheekbones. No makeup. A bag from the corner convenience store dangling from one wrist. Sweatpants. An oversized Mercedes hoodie pulled over her head, sleeves rolled at the wrists.She looked like a girl Vi had never been allowed to see.Not the F1 champion. Not the press conference tactician. Not the precision-tuned public figure.Just Caitlyn.And Vi was absolutely f@ck@ng wrecked for it.She didn’t even mean to speak—just sort of breathed the words out before they could catch.“Whatcha got, Kiramman?”Caitlyn jumped slightly, scanning until her eyes landed on Vi, still on the floor. She blinked, shoulders lifting in something sheepish.“Oh. Um.” She looked down at the bag in her hand like she’d forgotten she was holding it. “Snacks. I figured if this was going to be a movie thing… snacks were required.”Vi smirked. “Required by law?”“Unwritten law,” Caitlyn said, lips twitching. “I panicked and bought too much.”“Can’t wait to judge your choices.”“Please don’t.”“I already am.”Caitlyn’s mouth quirked again, that half-annoyed, half-amused look Vi had always loved dragging out of her. She stepped closer, eyes raking down Vi’s sprawled figure.Then, like she was only now realizing the absurdity of it—“Why are you on the floor?”Vi tilted her head back dramatically. “Waiting to see if you’d show.”Caitlyn raised a brow.Vi shrugged. “Also? Real talk? These chairs are b@llsh@t. My back needed this.”Caitlyn bit her lip, trying not to smile. “You couldn’t just sit  in  the room?”Vi grinned up at her. “Wanted to give you the chance to ditch.”“I almost did,” Caitlyn said, honest and quiet.“I know.”She stepped even closer, standing directly in front of her now. Vi looked up, eyes scanning over her face—bare, soft, unsure in a way that made her chest ache.Caitlyn looked down at her. “You planning to get up anytime soon?”“Actually, no,” Vi said, deadly serious. “I think I live here now.”Caitlyn rolled her eyes.Vi lifted both brows. “If you hadn’t shown, I probably would’ve just curled up and died here. Very tragic. You’d have to tell Powder.”“You’re being dramatic.”Vi offered her a crooked grin. “You’ve met me.”A pause.Then Caitlyn extended her hand.Vi took it without hesitation.Her fingers were cold. Or maybe Vi’s were just too warm. Either way, they fit.Caitlyn braced her stance and pulled, and Vi pushed herself up with a quiet grunt, her ribs catching in protest as she got to her feet. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands right away. Their palms just… stayed.When Vi finally looked up, Caitlyn was right there.Close.Eye-level.That same breathless, uncertain look swimming behind her lashes.Vi’s voice dropped. “Hey.”Caitlyn bit her lip. Almost laughed. Almost didn’t.Then—quiet, steady—“Hi.”And the whole world stilled.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          comments are free, powerful, and have been scientifically proven to make me kick my feet x'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
Assistant: