the shadows of the alley stretched long, swallowing the narrow street in a darkness that piltovian lanterns couldn’t touch. vi leaned against the cold, damp brick of the building, her arms crossed over her chest as she waited. her fingers tapped against the worn leather of her gloves, her patience running thin despite the weeks she’d poured into this job. she’d never been one for subtlety—preferred the kind of work where fists talked louder than plans—but tonight wasn’t about what she preferred. it was about getting the job done.

the payout on this one? enough to make her forget how much she hated dragging things out. besides, it wasn’t every day a client dangled a sum like this for one life. one very specific, very elusive life.

caitlyn kiramman.

even the name sounded like money. pristine. untouchable. vi had done her homework, digging through whispers and half-truths until she had a clear picture of the target: a woman born into piltover’s upper crust, polished and poised, but not the kind to hide behind servants or family wealth. no, caitlyn was different. sharp. capable. dangerous in her own way.

vi didn’t care much for the politics behind the contract—who wanted caitlyn dead or why. she’d learned to stop asking those kinds of questions. the fewer strings attached, the better. still, there was a nagging thought in the back of her mind, one she couldn’t quite shake: why hire her, of all people? she wasn’t exactly known for working clean. her style left bruises and broken bones, a trail of chaos no amount of gold could smooth over.

but a job was a job. and this one had finally reached its climax.

she shifted, scanning the empty street with narrowed eyes. the intel was solid—caitlyn would be here tonight. alone. vi had worked her angles, set the bait, and now all that was left was to wait for the woman to step into the trap.

about damn time, vi thought as the faint click of heels echoed through the alleyway. her heart kicked up a beat, the kind of adrenaline rush she lived for, but she didn’t move just yet. no, she stayed in the shadows, watching as the figure came into view. tall, graceful, dressed like she’d walked straight out of one of those piltovian galas vi hated so much.

there she was. the target.

vi’s jaw tightened, and a ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips. “showtime.” she murmured, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light just enough to catch her attention.

“fancy meeting you here.” vi drawled, her voice low and laced with something sharp. she didn’t wait for a response, didn’t give caitlyn time to think. she lunged forward, her fist swinging in a quick, calculated arc aimed at knocking the woman off balance.

this wasn’t about making an impression. it was about finishing the job.