High Stakes

Caitlyn had changed out of her race suit, now in her Mercedes team polo and dark jeans, walking through the nearly empty paddock.

She had handled the interviews well. Too well, apparently.

Because now, her words were already being twisted into headlines.

"Caitlyn Kiramman Calls for Justice for Zaun!"

"F1 Champion Acknowledges Systemic Inequality in Motorsport!"

"Is Caitlyn Kiramman the Hero Zaun Needs?"

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temple.

She had only said the truth.

She wasn’t trying to be a hero.

And she sure as hell wasn’t trying to win Vi’s approval.

Yet here she was, still thinking about that conversation.

About the way Vi had looked at her—furious, raw, like Caitlyn had personally insulted everything she stood for.

Like Caitlyn could never possibly understand.

And maybe she couldn’t.

But that didn’t mean she didn’t care.

Jayce walked in, tossing his phone onto the table before dropping into the chair across from her.

"You good?" he asked.

Caitlyn blinked, snapping out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"You’ve been staring at the wall like you’re trying to solve a murder," Jayce said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought this was supposed to be a good night for you."

Caitlyn sighed, leaning back. "It should be."

Jayce studied her for a moment, then smirked.

"This is about Vi, isn’t it?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "Not everything is about Vi."

Jayce tilted his head. "Except this time, it kinda is."

Caitlyn didn’t answer.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Jayce leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I don’t get it," he said. "I mean, yeah, she’s pissed she lost. But she’s been acting like she has some personal vendetta against you. What’s her deal?"

Caitlyn let out a slow breath.

"She’s from Zaun," she said simply.

Jayce frowned. "So?"

Caitlyn gave him a look.

"You know how people from Zaun feel about Piltover," she said. "And I’m not just from Piltover. I’m a Kiramman. My mother is a councilor. Of course she hates me. She thinks I’m just like the rest of them."

Jayce exhaled, sitting back. "You think that’s really it?"

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. "Isn’t it?"

Jayce thought for a moment, then shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "I think she just doesn’t know what to do with you."

Caitlyn blinked. "What?"

Jayce smirked. "You don’t fit into the little box she put you in. She wants you to be some arrogant, entitled Piltover princess, but you’re not. And that pisses her off."

Caitlyn frowned. "I don’t think she spends that much time analyzing me."

Jayce laughed. "Oh, she does. Believe me."

Caitlyn glanced away.

Because if she was being honest—she had noticed it too.

The way Vi was always watching her.

Always pushing, testing, waiting for her to slip.

But Caitlyn had spent her entire life being composed.

She didn’t slip.

And maybe that was what frustrated Vi the most

The week between Bahrain and Jeddah was supposed to be a time to reset, recover, and train lightly.

For Caitlyn, that meant keeping active without over-exerting herself—which was why she had agreed to a casual padel match with Jayce, Mel, and Viktor.

For Vi?

Vi had come to the courts with Ekko, just looking for a way to get out of her own head.

She hadn’t expected to find Caitlyn already here.

And she sure as hell hadn’t expected Jayce to rope them into playing together.

Now?

Now it wasn’t just a casual game.

Now, it was a fight.

Jayce had made the call.

Vi and Ekko vs. Caitlyn and Mel.

Vi had huffed in irritation, glancing at Caitlyn—who was already watching her with that unreadable expression.

Mel smiled knowingly. "This should be fun."

Caitlyn gave a small, amused nod. "Let's see what you've got, Vi."

Vi gritted her teeth.

Because of course Caitlyn was good at this too.

She should’ve known.

But Vi?

Vi wasn’t about to let her win easily.

The game started fast.

Vi and Ekko played with aggression, speed, power.

Vi’s serves were fast and ruthless, her returns designed to force Caitlyn and Mel off balance.

But Caitlyn?

Caitlyn was frustratingly controlled.

She didn’t hit the ball with raw strength—she used placement, angles, precision.

Every shot was calculated, perfect, infuriating.

She countered Vi’s power with patience, waiting for mistakes, striking only when necessary.

Vi was getting angrier by the second.

Every time she thought she had the upper hand, Caitlyn would find a way to shut her down.

And it was pissing her off.

By the time the score was 4-4, the match had turned into something far more intense than anyone had planned.

Ekko and Mel?

They were still playing, but this was a Vi vs. Caitlyn fight now.

Neither of them was holding back.

The ball slammed back and forth, the sound of shoes skidding on the court, sharp exhales, the occasional frustrated grunt.

Vi lunged for a shot, barely reaching it, returning with a brutal smash.

Caitlyn reacted instantly.

A clean, effortless volley, the ball hitting the perfect angle—too fast for Vi to catch.

Point.

Vi growled under her breath.

Caitlyn just smirked slightly, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"You're predictable," Caitlyn murmured.

Vi snapped her gaze to her.

"Excuse me?"

Caitlyn took a slow sip of water. "You play emotionally. You react. I read you too easily."

Vi’s blood boiled.

She gripped her racket tighter.

"Let’s see if you can read this."

And with that—the game only got worse.

The last few points were brutal.

Vi played harder, faster—desperate to get ahead.

But Caitlyn?

Caitlyn never broke.

Every time Vi tried to overpower her, Caitlyn redirected the energy.

By the time the match ended—7-5 in Caitlyn and Mel’s favor—Vi was fuming.

She didn’t even care about the score.

She cared that Caitlyn hadn’t cracked.

Hadn’t faltered.

Had beaten her without ever losing control.

The padel match was over, but Vi was still breathing hard, muscles burning from how much she had pushed herself.

Caitlyn, on the other hand?

Composed. Unshaken. Perfect.

As always.

Vi was about to storm off when Caitlyn suddenly stepped toward her, holding out a cold water bottle.

Vi blinked. What the hell?

"You looked like you needed it," Caitlyn said smoothly.

Vi hesitated, staring at her in suspicion.

But the bottle was ice-cold in her palm, condensation dripping over her fingers, and her throat was dry as hell.

So she grabbed it, twisting the cap open and taking a long sip.

"Didn’t think you cared," Vi muttered.

Caitlyn smirked slightly, arms crossing. "I don’t. Just don’t want you passing out before Jeddah."

Vi huffed a small laugh, shaking her head.

For a moment, the tension between them eased.

Then—

Caitlyn’s phone buzzed.

And Vi immediately knew something was wrong.

Caitlyn pulled out her phone, glanced at the screen—

And froze.

It was so fast, so subtle, but Vi caught it.

The way Caitlyn’s fingers tightened around the phone.

The way her expression went blank, too controlled, too careful.

Then—without a word—she turned and took a few steps away.

Vi watched as Caitlyn answered the call, voice low and even.

She couldn’t hear the words.

But she didn’t need to.

She saw the way Caitlyn’s jaw clenched.

Saw the way her free hand curled into a fist at her side.

Saw the way her breathing slowed, like she was forcing herself to stay composed.

It wasn’t just frustration.

It was something deeper. Sharper. Personal.

Vi didn’t know what was being said on the other end.

But she could see the moment Caitlyn’s expression darkened slightly.

See the way her shoulders locked into place.

See the moment it got worse.

Then—

Caitlyn ended the call.

Paused for one breath.

Two.

And when she turned back toward Vi—

Her expression was perfectly neutral.

Like nothing had happened.

Like Vi hadn’t just seen the cracks form.

And that?

That pissed Vi off more than anything.

Caitlyn grabbed her bag, acting like she was about to leave.

Vi stepped in front of her.

"You’re not fine."

Caitlyn blinked, raising an eyebrow. "I’m perfectly fine."

Vi scoffed. "Bullshit."

Caitlyn sighed sharply. "Vi, I don’t know what you think you saw—"

"I saw you shut down the second you picked up that phone," Vi interrupted, stepping closer. "Saw the way your face changed. The way your whole body locked up."

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t change.

But Vi wasn’t backing down.

"Who was it?" Vi pressed.

Caitlyn hesitated.

Then—flatly.

"My mother."

Vi frowned.

Caitlyn adjusted the strap of her bag, voice carefully neutral.

"She saw the articles," she continued. "And the councilors aren’t happy that a councilor’s daughter is ‘meddling in things she shouldn’t be involved in.’"

Vi’s jaw clenched.

Of course.

Of course the rich bastards in Piltover didn’t want to hear about Zaun.

Of course they wanted to pretend it didn’t exist.

"You should listen to them," Vi muttered.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Vi stepped closer.

"You don’t need to care about Zaun," Vi said, voice sharp. "It’s not your fight. Stick to Piltover, where you belong."

Caitlyn stilled.

Vi expected her to argue.

Expected her to snap back with some calculated, polished response.

But Caitlyn just… exhaled.

And when she spoke, her voice was quiet. Steady. But heavy.

"There shouldn’t be sides, Vi."

Vi’s chest tightened.

Because the way Caitlyn said it—not like a rehearsed speech, not like some Piltover politician trying to sound sympathetic—

She meant it.

And that?

That made Vi’s fists curl.

"That’s easy for you to say," Vi muttered. "You grew up safe. Rich. Privileged. You don’t know what it’s like to fight for something because you had to. Not because it makes a good headline."

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened slightly.

"You think I said what I did for attention?" she asked, voice sharper now.

Vi scoffed. "I think words are easy. Action is harder."

Caitlyn was silent for a long moment.

Then—softer now.

"I know," she admitted.

Vi’s breath caught.

Because she hadn’t expected that.

Hadn’t expected Caitlyn to agree.

Hadn’t expected Caitlyn to just take it.

Vi narrowed her eyes. "Then why say anything at all?"

Caitlyn met her gaze.

"Because it was the truth."

Vi clenched her jaw.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Caitlyn was supposed to be fake, a politician’s daughter, someone who didn’t actually care.

But the woman standing in front of her—the woman looking her dead in the eyes, unshaken, certain—

Wasn’t lying.

And Vi hated it.

Because that made it harder to hate her.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head.

"You really don’t know when to stop, do you?" Vi muttered.

Caitlyn gave her a small, tired smirk.

"You should know that by now."

Vi sighed, rubbing her temples.

"You really are full of surprises, huh?"

Caitlyn gave her a small, unreadable smile.

"You have no idea."

And Vi?

For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to fight Caitlyn anymore.

Because maybe—just maybe—Caitlyn wasn’t the person Vi had built up in her head.

And that?

That was more dangerous than anything.