Chapter Text
The interrogation room was a concrete box that smelled of industrial bleach and Caitlyn’s own rising panic.
Caitlyn sat on one side of the metal table, her fingers twisting a cheap plastic pen until the casing groaned. She was supposed to be a professional. She was the analyst. She was the one who had spent eighteen months tracking the "Loose Cannon of Piltover" through digital footprints and bloodied hotel rooms.
The heavy steel door swung open. And there she is.
Jinx.
She didn't walk in like a prisoner. She sauntered in like she was arriving late to a gallery opening. She was wearing a silk blouse, the color of a fresh bruise, her powder-blue hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She looked at the bolted-down chair, then at Caitlyn,
and smiled.
It was a small, private thing—as if they were sharing a joke that the two enforcers behind her weren't smart enough to get.
"You’re taller than I thought." Jinx said. Her voice was smooth, with a playful lilt that made Caitlyn’s skin prickle. “hot.”
"Sit down," Caitlyn managed, her voice steadier than she felt.
Jinx sat. She leaned in, crossing her arms on the table. She ignored the file filled with photos of her victims. She only had eyes for Caitlyn’s face, specifically the way Caitlyn’s pulse was jumping in the hollow of her throat.
"You have a very loud heart, Cait. Can I call you Cait? Caitlyn feels too formal for someone who has been watching me sleep for three weeks."
Caitlyn felt the air leave the room. "We found the apartment, Jinx. We found the DNA. It’s over."
"Is it?" Jinx tilted her head, a stray lock of hair falling over her eye. She didn't brush it away.
Caitlyn reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed a photo across the table. It was a man, a witness, his throat opened with surgical precision. "Why him? He was nobody. He wasn't a target."
Jinx didn't even glance at the photo. She reached out—faster than Caitlyn could recoil—and captured her wrist. Her grip wasn't violent but it was firm, her thumb pressing directly over Caitlyn’s frantic pulse.
"I did it because I wanted to see what you would do," Jinx whispered. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a terrifying, dark curiosity. "I wanted to see if you’d cry, or if you’d get angry. I wanted to see if you’d finally come find me."
"You killed a man... to get my attention?" Caitlyn’s breath hitched. She should call the guards. She should pull away. But she was frozen, pinned by the predatory intensity in Jinx’s gaze.
"I’d kill a hundred more just to keep you looking at me," Jinx said softly. She leaned closer, her lips inches from Caitlyn’s ear. "Tell me, Caitlyn. When you go home to your nice little wife and your nice not-so-little house, do you think about the blood? Or do you just think about me?"
Caitlyn didn't answer. She couldn't. Because in that moment, with the cold metal of the table beneath her and Jinx’s warm hand on her skin, she realized the most horrifying thing of all.
She didn't want to pull away.
The ache had started. It was a slow, widening crack in the foundation of who she was.
Jinx let go of her wrist and sat back, the smirk returning. "You’re not going to turn the recording on, are you? You want this to be just ours."
Caitlyn looked at the camera in the corner, its little red light blinking like a warning she was already ignoring. She looked back at Jinx.
"No," Caitlyn whispered, her voice breaking. "Just ours."
Caitlyn’s house was supposed to be her sanctuary. It smelled of lavender candles and the slightly burnt toast her wife, Violet, had made that morning. It was a house of beige rugs and organized bookshelves, a house for a woman who didn't know what a human heart looked like when it was no longer beating.
She walked through the front door, dropping her keys on the console table. "Vi? I'm home late, I'm sorry. The office was—"
She stopped.
The kitchen light was on. Violet wasn't there. Instead, there was a woman sitting at the small breakfast nook, wearing one of Caitlyn’s oversized sweaters. She was peeling an apple with a paring knife, the red skin curling off in one long, perfect spiral.
"It’s a bit cold in here, Cait," Jinx said without looking up. "You should really check the seals on the windows. Or, you know, lock them."
Caitlyn’s heart slammed against her ribs like a bird in a cage. "Where is she? Where’s Violet?"
Jinx finally looked up. Her eyes were bright, dancing with a cruel sort of mischief. She popped a slice of apple into her mouth and chewed slowly, deliberately. "She’s at her friend’s. I sent her a text from your phone while you were in your meeting. Something about needing space? It was very convincing. I think I have a gift for melodrama."
Caitlyn felt a wave of nausea. She looked at the knife in Jinx’s hand—the same hand that had held her wrist in the interrogation room.
"Get out," Caitlyn whispered, though her legs felt like lead.
"But I made you pie," Jinx pouted, gesturing to the oven. "Well, I bought it. But I heated it up. That counts for something in this dull little life of yours, doesn't it?"
Jinx stood up, the knife still loosely gripped in her fingers. She walked toward Caitlyn, her movements fluid and predatory. She stopped just inches away, invading Caitlyn’s personal space until Caitlyn was backed against the cold surface of a wall.
"You're shaking," Jinx observed, her voice dropping to a low, intimate hum. She reached out with her free hand and tucked a loose strand of Caitlyn’s hair behind her ear. "Is it because you're scared I'll kill you? Or because you're scared I won't?"
"You're a monster," Caitlyn choked out, even as she felt her own body betraying her, leaning into the warmth Jinx radiated.
"Aren’t you?," Jinx countered, her gaze dropping to Caitlyn’s lips. "You pretend to love this boring old house and the boring wife. But you spent all day looking at my file. You spent all day thinking about the way I looked at you. Admit it. You want this."
Jinx pressed the flat side of the cold knife blade against Caitlyn’s cheek. It was a terrifying caress. The metal was freezing, far different from the heat of Jinx’s breath.
"Tell me to leave," Jinx dared her, her eyes darkening. "and I'll go. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again."
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Caitlyn looked at the door, then back at the woman who had ruined her soul in a matter of weeks. The right thing to do was scream, push her away. The safe thing to do was to run.
She did none of those things.
Caitlyn stood. stayed.
Her hand rose, trembling, and she gripped Jinx’s sweater—her sweater—pulling her closer.
"I hate you," Caitlyn sobbed, the sound muffled against Jinx’s shoulder.
Jinx wrapped her arms around her, the knife still clutched in her hand, pressing Caitlyn into a hug that felt more like a hostage situation.
"I know," Jinx whispered into her hair, a triumphant, jagged smile breaking across her face. "Isn't it wonderful?"
The dinner table was silent.
Violet was eating her pasta, the sound of her fork scraping the ceramic plate echoing like a gunshot in the small dining room.
She didn’t look up.
She hadn’t looked at Caitlyn properly in days, not since she’d come home with that strange, distant look in her eyes and a bruise on her wrist that she couldn't explain.
"How was the agency?" Violet asked. Her voice was flat, the tone of a woman who was tired of asking questions she knew would be met with lies.
"Fine," Caitlyn said, poking at her food. "Just... paperwork. Budget cuts."
Violet finally dropped her fork. It clattered, the sound sharp and ugly. "Paperwork doesn't make you scream in your sleep, Cait. Budget cuts don't make you smell like hotel perfume when you don't even own any."
Caityln froze. She thought of Jinx sitting in her kitchen, the scent of vanilla and copper clinging to the walls long after she’d vanished into the night. She thought of the way Jinx had looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered—and then she looked at Violet.
She looked tired. She looked like someone who belonged in a different world. A world she didn't fit into anymore.
"I'm stressed, Violet. It’s a big case."
"It’s her, isn't it?" Violet leaned forward, her eyes shimmering with a mix of pity and rage. "The blue-haired one. The one from the files you keep hidden under the bed. The one you look at when you think I’m not watching."
"It’s my job to look at her," Caitlyn snapped, her voice rising in a defensive reflex.
"No," Violet whispered, and the quietness of it hurt worse than a scream. "It’s your job to catch her. But you’re not catching her, are you? You just like the chase. And I think you’re scared of what happens if you actually stop."
Violet stood up, grabbing her plate, but her hand hovered over the table. "I saw you today. At the park during your 'lunch break.' I went to surprise you."
Caitlyn’s heart stopped. She had met Jinx at the park. They had sat on a bench, barely touching, watching children play while Jinx described, in vivid detail, the best way to snap a human collarbone.
"You weren't arresting her," Violet said, her voice breaking. "You were laughing. You looked... alive. More alive than you’ve looked with me in years."
"Violet, I can explain—"
"Don't." She turned away, her back a wall of resentment. "The worst part isn't that you're in danger, Cait. The worst part is that I’m starting to realize you don't want to be saved. You’d rather burn down this entire house if it meant she was the one holding the match."
She walked out of the kitchen, and a moment later, Caitlyn heard the heavy thud of the guest room door closing.
The house was silent again. Caitlyn sat in the dim light, the walls closing in on her. She felt a weight on her shoulder, the memory of Jinx’s head resting there.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, folded scrap of paper Jinx had tucked there earlier.
It wasn't a threat.
It wasn't an address.
It was just a hand-drawn heart with a jagged crack down the middle, and a single word written in looping script:
Soon.
Silco sat in the shadows of a parked car, the glow of his cigarette illuminating the deep lines on his face. He handed Jinx a weathered, yellowed envelope.
"You shouldn't look," he grumbled, his voice thick with a warning he knew she’d ignore. "Some ghosts are better left in the dirt, Jinx."
Jinx didn't listen. She tore it open. Inside was a birth certificate from an orphanage. Two names. One was hers—the name she’d discarded long before she became a shadow. The other was…
Violet.
She stared at the date. The same day. The same hour.
"She was the one they kept," Jinx whispered, her voice uncharacteristically small. "She got the couple. She got the fancy school and she got her own bed..." She looked at her own scarred knuckles, thinking of the cold, concrete floors of the training facilities that had raised her.
"She doesn't know," Silco said. "And Caitlyn doesn't know. Leave it, Jinx. be done with it."
Jinx’s eyes flashed with a sudden, jagged light. "Let me spend time with my sister first."
…
The bell rang, and the school courtyard was suddenly a sea of navy blazers and high-pitched laughter. Violet stood by the gate, nodding to parents and waving off her final class of the day.
She felt solid here.
She felt like the version of herself that Caitlyn used to love.
Then she saw her.
She was leaning against a black iron fence, wearing a coat that cost more than her car and sunglasses that hid everything but a smirk. She was holding a single red balloon, looking entirely out of place among the backpacks and juice boxes.
"Mrs. Kiramman - Lanes," Jinx said as she approached, her voice cutting through the playground noise. "You look exhausted. Do the children bite?"
Violet stiffened, her hand tightening on her bag. "You shouldn't be here. This is a school."
"I like schools, I like kids," Jinx murmured, stepping closer. She let go of the balloon. They both watched it drift upward until it snagged on a barren tree branch, bobbing like a trapped heartbeat.
Then a realization struck her, then she laughed, "Oh no, not like that! They're just so full of potential. Y’know, before life gets... messy.”
"What do you want?" Violet hissed, stepping between her and a group of passing students. "If you hurt Cait—"
"I would never hurt Cait," Jinx interrupted, her voice dropping to a low, jagged rasp. "But you... you’re a problem, Violet. You’re a very dull, very heavy anchor."
Jinx reached out and adjusted Violet’s tie. Her fingers brushed her neck, and for a split second, Violet felt a strange, electric jolt of familiarity—a weird sense of recognition in the curve of her eyes that she couldn't place.
"You have a scar on your back," Jinx whispered bitterly.
Violet turned pale, then she stepped back. "How could you possibly know that? Did Caitlyn tell you?"
"Caitlyn doesn't know. I think. I hope.” Jinx then laughs to herself. “Caitlyn doesn't look at you long enough to notice things like that anymore,"
"I know because we used to take baths together. You would wash my back and I’d wash yours." Jinx said, her smile fading into something cold and resentful.
The color drained from Violet’s face. The world seemed to tilt. "P-Powder? No. That’s impossible. They told me—"
"Lies" Jinx cut her off, her voice trembling with a sudden, sharp edge of rage. "It doesn’t matter now. You got the life, Violet. You got the classroom, and the pretty wife. And I got the knife."
Jinx started to play with the knife between her fingers, moving closer to her sister until Violet hit the wall. Then she stopped, a grin playing on her face.
She stepped back, the sunglasses hiding the moisture in her eyes. "Just leave, Violet. Tell her you can’t take the lying anymore. Tell her you’re scared of her. Anything. Just get out of her life."
Jinx then turned her back on her but before she’d walk away she turned her face to the side,
“or I will.”
The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to taste, metallic and sharp. Caitlyn stood by the counter, her chest heaving, the adoption papers crumpled in her white-knuckled grip. When the door clicked shut and Jinx sauntered in, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"What did you do!?" Caitlyn’s voice cracked, a raw, ugly sound that tore through the quiet of the house. "I went to the school, Jinx. Violet hasn't been there in three days. Her headmaster said she saw her talking to a woman at the gate. What did you do to her?"
Jinx didn't flinch. She leaned against the doorframe, checking her nails with a maddening, casual grace. She looked up, her eyes wide and shimmering with a mock-sweetness that turned Caitlyn’s stomach.
"I don't know what you're so upset about, Cait," Jinx said, her voice a light, melodic hum. "It was just a... family reunion. We had so much to catch up on. Decades, really."
Caitlyn felt the world tilt. The flippancy in Jinx’s tone—the way she spoke about Violet as if she were a discarded toy.
"She’s your sister," Caitlyn whispered, the horror finally sinking in. "She’s your sister and you... you hunted her. You terrified her. You took the only person I had left—You had left!"
"I did you a favor! " Jinx snapped, the mask of innocence slipping for a fraction of a second to reveal the jagged resentment underneath. "And she was never in my life to begin with. She was just a parasite, Cait. I cleared the air for us." Jinx smiled.
As Jinx stepped forward to touch her, to offer that familiar, toxic comfort, Caitlyn recoiled.
She shoved Jinx’s hands away, her palms hitting Jinx’s chest with a force that actually made the assassin stumble back.
"Don't touch me!" Caitlyn screamed. "Get out. Get out of my house! Get out of my life."
Jinx’s expression went blank. That terrifying, empty slate that usually preceded a kill. "Cait... don't be boring. You don't mean that."
"I meant every word," Caitlyn gasped, tears finally spilling over. "I had a life! I had a wife who loved me and a job that made sense and... and I was good. I was a good person before you. I’m going to find her. I’m going to fix this."
"You can't go back," Jinx said softly, a cruel pity in her eyes. "The door only opens one way."
"Watch me," Caitlyn hissed.
She practically threw Jinx out the front door, slamming it and throwing every bolt. She leaned her forehead against the wood, sobbing until her ribs ached.
Caitlyn was doing "better."
That was the lie she told her therapist, her colleagues, and the empty chair in the living room. She had established a routine: coffee at 7:00 AM, the office by 8:30 AM, and back home by 6:00 PM to a house that was impeccably clean and utterly lifeless.
Then, the gifts started.
It began on a Tuesday. Caitlyn stepped out to get the mail and found a small, weathered wooden horse sitting on the top step. It was old, the paint chipped away to reveal pale grain beneath. When she turned it over, her heart stopped. Carved into the bottom were two sets of initials: V.L & P.L
Caitlyn dropped it as if it were white-hot. It was a relic from the orphanage.
A few days later, it was a scarf.
Not just any scarf, but the blue cashmere one Violet had worn on their first date. Caitlyn had looked for it for months, assuming she’d taken it with her. It was draped neatly over the porch railing, smelling faintly of woodsmoke and—faintly, cruelly—of Jinx’s perfume.
Caitlyn brought it inside, clutching it to her face, sobbing into the fabric until she realized she wasn't just smelling Violet. She was inhaling Jinx. The two were tangled together now. She couldn't have the memory of her wife without the shadow of her sister looming over it.
The final "gift" arrived on a rain-slicked Friday.
Caitlyn came home to find an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper of her car. She opened it inside, her hands trembling so violently she almost tore the paper.
It was a series of photos. Not of Jinx. Not of a crime scene.
They were photos of Caitlyn.
Caitlyn at the grocery store, buying the crackers Violet liked. Caitlyn sitting on a park bench, looking at her phone. Caitlyn standing at her bedroom window, staring out into the dark. In every photo, Caitlyn looked smaller, grayer, more diminished.
Underneath the photos was a small, hand-written note.
I’m the only one who sees you. Even when you’re hiding.
— J.
Caitlyn looked around her kitchen. The silence of the house suddenly felt like a tomb. She had pushed Jinx away to save her old life, but she realized with a sickening, hollow ache that there was no life left to save. Violet was gone because of what she was. And what she was... was the woman who couldn't stop looking at those photos.
She realized she wasn't looking at the photos to see herself. She was looking at the angles of the shots, trying to figure out where Jinx had been standing. She was tracing Jinx's footsteps.
The denial snapped.
Caitlyn grabbed the wooden horse from the counter and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a dull thud, but it didn't break. It just rolled back toward her, mocking her.
She was starving. And Jinx was the only one holding the feast.
Caitlyn sat in the back of a blacked-out surveillance van parked half a mile away from a glittering, high-stakes gala in a villa overlooking a lake, her headset pressing into her temples.
Beside her, a tech named Jayce watched the audio levels. They were only here because Caitlyn had spent weeks burned out on favors, finally brokering a deal through Silco. She had convinced her superiors that Jinx was a "rehabilitated asset" with the specific social chameleon skills necessary for the suspect’s inner circle.
"She’s in," Caitlyn muttered, watching the tiny pinhole camera feed from Jinx’s choker.
Jinx looked stunning in a backless sapphire silk dress. She was playing the role of “Tiana”, a bored heiress. On the feed, Caitlyn watched Jinx approach the suspect, Torman Hoskel, a glass of champagne in one hand and a predatory grace in her step.
"Mr. Hoskel," Jinx purred. Her voice was different—higher, airier, but with a sharp undercurrent. "I’ve heard you have a penchant for rare things. Things that are... difficult to keep."
"Is that so?" Torman Hoskel replied, clearly captivated. "And what do you know about rare things, Tiana?"
Jinx leaned in, the camera tilting to show Hoskel’s expensive lapel. "I know that the rarest things are the ones that try to fight you. The ones that pretend they belong somewhere they clearly don’t, like a quiet house with a quiet life... but they secretly crave the fire."
In the van, Caitlyn’s hand tightened on the edge of the desk. She knew Jinx wasn't talking to Hoskel.
"You speak as if from experience," Hoskel chuckled.
"Oh, I am currently being managed by someone very... strict," Jinx said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that resonated perfectly in Caitlyn’s ears. "Someone who thinks if they keep me at a distance, they can stay clean. But I think they just like watching me do the things they’re too afraid to do herself."
"They sound formidable," Hoskel remarked.
"More like a coward," Jinx countered, her gaze lingering on a mirror behind Hoskel—looking directly into the pinhole lens, directly at Caitlyn."She hides behind glass and wires. She listens to my heartbeat because she’s forgotten how to feel her own. It’s quite tragic, really. Don't you think, Caitlyn?"
The tech, Jayce, frowned. "Did she just say your name?"
"It’s a code word," Caitlyn lied instantly, her voice thick. "For the extraction point. Jinx, stay on task. Ask him about the ledger."
Jinx laughed, a light, tinkling sound that masked a jagged edge. "She wants to see the ledger Mr. Hoskel. But I think I’d rather talk about bloodlines. Did I ever tell you I had a sister? She was so boring, she actually thought she was happy. I had to set her free."
Caitlyn felt a surge of nausea. Every word was a violation of the deal she’d made with her superiors. Jinx was dancing on the edge of blowing the entire operation just to watch Caitlyn squirm.
"You’re very intense," Hoskel said, his tone shifting from flirtatious to wary.
"It’s the company I keep," Jinx said, her hand reaching out to trace the line of Hoskel’s jaw—a mirror of how she had touched Caitlyn in the interrogation room. "I’m working for someone who thinks she can ignore me. But she’s listening to every breath I take right now. Aren't you, baby? Are you enjoying the show?"
Caitlyn slammed her hand down on the 'Comm' button. "Jinx. The ledger. Now. Or I pull the plug and Silco won't be able to save you from the extraction team."
Jinx leaned into Hoskel, her lips brushing his ear, but her words were for the van. "She’s getting angry. I love it when she gets angry. It’s the only time she’s honest."
Jinx then turned her charm back to Hoskel, seamlessly pivoting back into the mission, but the damage was done. Caitlyn sat in the dark, her heart racing, realizing that she hadn't brokered a deal to use an asset. She had brokered a deal to be publicly dismantled by the only person who knew exactly where to cut.
...
The mission was a success. The ledger was secured. But as Caitlyn drove Jinx back to the safe house, the silence in the car was deafening.
"You nearly blew it," Caitlyn said, her eyes fixed on the road.
"But I didn't," Jinx replied, kicking her feet up on the dashboard, the sapphire dress hiked up. "And you got what you wanted. You got to be the hero at the office. Everyone is going to pat you on the back."
Jinx turned her head, looking at Caitlyn with a terrifyingly soft expression. "But we both know who was in control in that room, Cait."
Before Caitlyn could say anything, her personal phone vibrated and lit up. Caitlyn had quickly turned it off but Jinx's keen eye didn't missed who the message was from.
Violet
Violet was finishing her grading in the empty teacher’s lounge when she felt a presence. She looked up to find a woman leaning against the doorframe, her hair pulled back, wearing a soft, unassuming sweater that made her look almost... normal.
"You have our father’s nose" Jinx said, her voice devoid of its usual predatory lilt. "I spent three hours looking at old microfilm in a basement to be sure. It’s definitely his."
Violet stood up, her heart hammering. "Pow–Jinx. You shouldn't be here. Cait—"
"Caitlyn doesn't know," Jinx interrupted, walking into the room and sitting on a desk, swinging her legs like a child. "I didn't come for her. I came to say I’m sorry. For the school. For everything. I was... overwhelmed. Finding you was like finding a ghost."
Violet looked at her, the skepticism fighting with a deep, marrow-deep guilt. They had told her she died in a fire and she just stopped looking.
"I don't know if I can trust you," Violet whispered.
"You don't have to," Jinx said softly, her eyes shimmering with “vulnerability”. "Just give me an hour. I want to know what it was like. Growing up. I want to know about the life I was supposed to have. With you."
Violet, desperate to fix her broken world, had agreed.
They spent the afternoon driving out to a quiet, isolated vineyard on the edge of the city. To Violet’s surprise, she actually enjoyed it. Jinx was funny, sharp, and seemed genuinely fascinated by her stories of primary school and boring summer camps.
For a moment, she let herself believe that the "monster" Caitlyn described was just a traumatized girl looking for a sister.
But the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the vines.
"You're a good person, Violet," Jinx said, her voice suddenly turning flat and cold as they walked toward an old, detached tool shed. "That’s why you’re so easy to break. You think everyone wants to be 'saved.'"
She kicked open the door of the shed. Inside, tied to a chair and gagged, was Violet’s department head—a woman Violet had worked with for years.
Jinx had been stalking Violet for months, watching her move through her world, and she had noticed a recurring figure: Sarah, a young, bright-eyed history teacher who sat a little too close to Violet in the lounge and looked at her with a longing that was painfully transparent.
"Jinx... what is this?" Violet’s voice climbed an octave, her hands shaking. "Let her go!"
Violet’s mind fractured. She looked at her colleague, then at the woman who shared her blood, and she began to shake.
"Jinx, please," Violet begged, her voice cracking. "What do you want? Why are you doing this to her? What do you want with us?"
Jinx turned to her, the predatory light in her eyes replaced by something much more unsettling: a deep, hollow, and utterly serious focus. She stepped into her personal space, the tip of her blade resting against her collarbone.
"What’s Caitlyn’s favorite food?" she asked.
Violet froze. She blinked, the question so absurd that it felt like a hallucination. "What?"
"What is her favorite food?" Jinx repeated, her voice dropping into a terrifyingly sincere whisper. She walked even closer, the knife now pointing toward her throat, her eyes shimmering with a desperate, frightening yearning. "I want to know what she likes. I want to know what makes her feel safe. I want to cook for her, Vi. I want to feed her the things that make her smile."
"You're... you're insane," Violet stammered, her eyes darting to Sarah, who was sobbing behind her gag.
"Answer me!" Jinx hissed, her hand tightening on the hilt. "Does she like pasta? Does she like things spicy? Does she still eat those little lemon cakes when she’s stressed? Did she liked the pie a baked for her? Tell me!"
Terrified, Violet told her. She babbled out every detail—the way Caitlyn liked her steak, her secret love for dark chocolate, the specific way she took her coffee in the morning. Jinx listened with intensity, nodding to herself, memorizing the map of Caitlyn’s appetites.
"Good," Jinx whispered, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Thanks, Sis."
Jinx then straightened up, her moment vanishing. She gestured with the knife for Violet to sit on a rusted metal chair she had placed directly next to the bound-and-gagged Sarah.
"Now," Jinx said, her tone shifting back to the lethal playfulness Violet feared. "Let’s play a little game.'"
She circled them, her boots clicking against the concrete. "I need you to pick one, Violet. Sarah or Caitlyn?"
Violet looked at Sarah’s tear-filled eyes, then she thought of Caitlyn. She thought of the woman who was currently lying to her, the woman who was drowning in darkness.
"I choose Cait," Violet whispered, her voice broken. "She’s my wife. I love her."
Jinx’s grin evaporated. Her face turned into a mask of cold, sharp disappointment.
"Wrong answer," she tutted, shaking her head. "I was actually going to let you both go. But you’re still holding on to her. Violet. And I don't like competition."
Jinx then stood up and circled around Sarah, giving her a pitying look. "Too bad. She likes you, Violet," Jinx said. "She thinks you’re so sweet. She thinks she can give you the quiet, sun-drenched life that Caitlyn is currently burning to the ground with you." she laughed.
Jinx started to point the blade against Sarah’s neck, who started whimpering and struggling.
"No! Wait! " Violet begged. "Just kill me instead, Don’t bring her into this!"
Jinx pulled away and started playing with the knife, amused. “Such a hero.” she said to herself.
Jinx then turned her attention to her sister. "I can't kill you, Violet," she sighed, almost sounding bored, like it was the most obvious thing ever.
"Caitlyn would never forgive me, and I’m trying to make her happy. But her?" She looked at Sarah.
"Caitlyn hates her. I saw how much this girl irritates her. The way she lingers. The way she looks at you. Caitlyn wants her gone, but she’s too 'good' to do anything about it. I’m just taking care of the weeds."
Before Violet could scream, Jinx finished it. She didn't look at the blood; she only looked at Violet, who was now a broken shell.
The mission briefing back at the Piltover office had been tense. Silco and two senior tactical leads stood around the table, finalizing the extraction plan.
"We need a verbal trigger," the lead agent said, looking between Caitlyn and Jinx. "Something common enough to fit a conversation, but specific enough to alert the van. Any suggestions?"
Jinx, leaning back in her chair with her boots on the table, didn't hesitate. She looked directly at Caitlyn, her eyes dancing with a malicious, shimmering light.
"How about... Cupcake?" Jinx suggested, her voice sweet as syrup.
Caitlyn stiffened, her spine turning to iron. The air in the room seemed to vanish. Cupcake.
It was the private pet name Violet used for her when they were alone. A name that represented the softest, most domestic parts of her life. Jinx must have heard it through a bug, or perhaps she’d seen it in a saved text on Caitlyn’s phone. Who knows.
"Cupcake?" Silco grunted, scribbling it down. "A bit ridiculous, but it works. It’s distinct. Everyone agreed?"
The other agents nodded, already moving on to the next slide.
Caitlyn’s hands were fisted at her sides. She glared at Jinx, her gaze screaming a thousand threats. Jinx simply leaned her head to the side, a wicked, triumphant grin plastered on her face.
She winked at Caitlyn, a silent, mocking acknowledgement that she was now using Caitlyn’s own marriage as a weapon.
…
The briefing room was bathed in the cold, blue light of overhead LEDs. On the glass wall, the schematics of Hoskel’s Alpine villa looked like an anatomical drawing with veins of security wires and a heart of guarded secrets.
Silco stood by the window, his silhouette heavy and restless. "It’s too thin, Caitlyn. You and the girl, alone in the mountains? No backup, no extraction team within fifty miles? It’s a suicide pact. I should at least come with you."
“Can’t believe I’m saying this but he’s right, Cait. Either she kills you or both of you get killed.” Jayce added, who was in his little corner in the office with all his monitors.
"We need to be discreet. It’s the only way Hoskel won’t suspect a thing." Caitlyn said, her voice steady as she packed a tactical kit. "He’s paranoid. If he sees a footprint that isn't hers, he’ll vanish. We’re lucky as is that Hoskel had grown fond of her and had invited her again. We might never get another chance at this."
Silco grumbled, a sound of deep, paternal worry, but he stayed put. He watched as Caitlyn walked toward the door where Jinx was waiting.
Jinx was leaning against the doorframe, wearing a sensible trench coat that looked absurdly normal on her. She looked at Caitlyn.
"Are you ready to play house, Cait?" Jinx whispered as they walked down the sterile hallway. "Or are you still pretending you're coming back to this?"
"I am coming back," Caitlyn said, not looking at her. "This is a job, Jinx. One last job, and then the deal is done. You get your freedom, and I get my life."
Jinx's laugh was soft and jagged. "You don't even believe that for a second."
…
The cabin was a rotting splinter of wood and damp stone tucked into a valley a few miles from Hoskel’s villa. Inside, the only light came from the flickering green bars of the audio receiver and the blue glow of Caitlyn’s laptop.
Caitlyn sat hunched over the equipment, her headset on so tight it left red marks on her skin. She was alone. She had left Silco and Jayce back at the Piltover office, promising them this was a clean extraction.
The audio crackled as Jinx entered the room and closed the door. Caitlyn heard the click of the lock. Then, she heard the rustle of silk. Jinx began to pace, her footsteps a soft, rhythmic thrumming. She wasn't calling out for Caitlyn. She knew Hoskel likely had the room bugged with his own equipment. To anyone else, she was just a woman unwinding after a long night.
"It’s so big, this bed," Jinx murmured, her voice a low, melodic vibration that seemed to bloom right inside Caitlyn’s skull. "Too big for one person. It feels... cold. Don't you think?"
Caitlyn’s breath hitched. She gripped the edge of the wooden desk, her knuckles white. She shouldn't be listening to this. She should be checking the perimeter sensors, looking for the guards Silco had warned her about.
"I think I’ll take a bath," Jinx continued. Caitlyn heard the sound of a zipper sliding down—a long, slow hiss of fabric. "The silk is so heavy tonight. It feels like someone is pressing against me..."
Caitlyn felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a flush that had nothing to do with the small space heater in the cabin. She could almost see it, Jinx standing in the center of that marble room, the dress pooling at her feet, her eyes fixed on the dark forest where she knew Caitlyn was hiding.
"I wonder what you’re doing right now," Jinx whispered, the sound of her breath brushing against the mic. "Are you sitting in the dark? wondering what my skin feels like?"
"Jinx, stop," Caitlyn whispered, her voice a broken thread.
On the screen, Caitlyn watched the audio levels spike as Jinx moved closer to the transmitter.
"I bet your heart is racing," Jinx said, her voice dropping to a hum that was almost a caress. "I bet you’re touching your neck, right where my pulse is beating in your ears. You’re trying to be a good girl, aren’t you? but all you can see is the dark. All you can see is me."
Caitlyn’s hand drifted to her own throat, her fingers trembling. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, a frantic, rhythmic betrayal. She felt exposed, stripped bare by a woman miles away who was simply talking to the air.
The cabin was freezing, but Caitlyn was burning up. The audio from the guest suite was so clear it felt like the walls of the shack had dissolved, leaving her standing in the center of Jinx’s bedroom.
"You sound so tense," Jinx’s voice murmured, honey-thick and laced with a jagged edge. "You should let yourself go once in a while."
Caitlyn stood frozen, the headset clutched to her ears. She could hear the rustle of Jinx’s silk dress sliding off her shoulders, the sound of it hitting the marble floor like a sigh. Then, Jinx’s breathing changed. It became ragged, shallow—the sound of someone who was no longer performing for a target, but for an audience of one.
And the audience is her.
"Maybe I can help you with that," Jinx whispered.
In the silence of the cabin, the sound of Jinx’s hand brushing against her own skin was amplified, a soft, rhythmic friction that made Caitlyn’s vision blur.
"Imagine I’m there. Imagine I’m the one touching your neck... sliding my fingers under that stiff collar you insist on wearing."
Caitlyn’s eyes snapped shut. The world she had been trying so hard to fight for to stay in flickered once and then went dark. There was only the sound of Jinx’s ragged exhale and the cold mountain air.
Caitlyn gave in.
Her hands, which had been clutching her throat in a defensive grip, began to move. Her fingers trailed down from her neck, tracing the line of her collarbone before sliding down to her chest. Her heart was a panicked animal beneath her palms, slamming against her ribs.
"That’s it," Jinx moaned softly into the mic, as if she could see through the miles of dark forest. "Is your heart racing? I can feel it. I can feel mine, too."
Caitlyn tried so hard not to make a sound, but her breath hitched in a sob she didn't recognize. Her hands moved lower, trembling as they reached the waistband of her tactical trousers. Every sensation was heightened, the rough fabric against her sensitive skin, the contrast of the freezing cabin air and the heat radiating from her own body.
she was falling apart to the sound of a killer’s voice.
Jinx’s voice.
"I’ve got you," Jinx whispered, her voice a distorted, electric caress. "There’s only this. Only us."
Caitlyn’s head fell back, a low, broken sound escaping her lips that was lost to the static of the mountains.
She was no longer monitoring an asset. She was being unmade.
When the audio finally settled into the steady, rhythmic sound of Jinx’s post-release breathing, Caitlyn slumped against the desk, her forehead resting on the cold metal of the receiver. She was shaking, her skin slick with sweat in the freezing room.
And then a cold realization hit her.
She was hollowed out, filled only with the ghost of Jinx’s voice.
…
The first light of dawn filtered through the cabin’s cracks, but for the first time in weeks, Caitlyn didn't wake up with a heavy chest. She woke to the sound of soft breathing in her earpiece.
"Good morning," Jinx’s voice hummed. It was low, intimate, and stripped of the previous night’s jagged edges. "Did you sleep well?"
Caitlyn, laying on the cot, the cold mountain air biting at her skin, found herself wearing a strange, satisfied smile.
She didn't answer—she couldn't—but she stayed perfectly still, savoring the secret they had shared across the miles.
"You're so quiet," Jinx murmured. "I bet you're blushing."
The intimacy was cut short by a sharp, rhythmic rapping. The guest room door in the villa opened.
"Tiana," Hoskel’s voice boomed. "I trust you slept well. Join me for breakfast in ten minutes. We have much to discuss before your departure."
"Of course, Mr. Hoskel," Jinx replied, her voice instantly pivoting back into the breezy, bored heiress. "I’ll be down shortly."
Caitlyn was back at the monitor, her professional mask firmly in place, though her pulse was still thrumming. She watched the thermal feeds as Jinx sat across from Hoskel in the glass-walled dining room.
Everything seemed routine. Hoskel was talking about shipping routes; Jinx was picking at a croissant. Then, Jinx sounded like she choked on something. Clinking of glasses can be heard, then gulping, then dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
"The food is splendid," Jinx said, her tone shifting into something cloyingly sweet. "But I think I’m ready for dessert. I’ve had the most peculiar craving for a... cupcake."
Caitlyn’s blood turned to ice. Cupcake. The safe word.
Panic, sharper than any she’d ever felt, surged through Caitlyn.
She didn't wait. She didn't coordinate.
She grabbed her suppressed sidearm and sprinted toward the villa.
Caitlyn breached the dining room like a ghost. She saw Hoskel rising, his hand reaching for his pocket, a weapon—Caitlyn had assumed— but she was faster.
She fired twice, the soft sound of the silencer punctuated by the heavy thud of Hoskel’s body hitting the floor.
Jinx sat perfectly still, looking at the carnage. She looked at Caitlyn—wild-eyed, breathless, and broken—and that same wicked grin from the briefing room returned.
"We have to go!" Caitlyn gasped, her voice cracking. She lunged forward, grabbing Jinx’s wrist with a bruising force. "The guards—we have to go now!"
…
Caitlyn was spiraling. The reality of the murder and the adrenaline of the breach were too much. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold her weapon.
"Caitlyn, breathe," Jinx said, her voice now cool and steady.
As a guard rounded the corner, Caitlyn froze. Jinx didn't.
She effortlessly snatched the pistol from Caitlyn’s fingers, fired three precise shots, and cleared the path.
"I’ve got the lead," Jinx said, lacing her fingers through Caitlyn’s and pulling her toward the garage. "Don't look back. There’s nothing there for you anyway."
They reached the SUV. Jinx hot-wired it in seconds, the engine roaring like a beast. As they tore away from the glass house, the mountain air rushing through the open windows,
Caitlyn looked at her wedding ring. It looked like a piece of junk. A costume prop from a life she no longer lived.
Jinx reached over, her hand resting firmly on Caitlyn’s knee. “Are you okay?" Jinx asked, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Don’t worry. It’s just us now."
The adrenaline began to subside, replaced by a cold, sickening clarity. As the black SUV put miles of alpine forest between them and the villa, Caitlyn stared out the window. Her mind replayed those three seconds in the dining room over and over, frame by frame, like a film she was desperately trying to edit in her head.
Hoskel. His hand. Was he even reaching for a gun?
She remembered his face. It hadn't been the face of a man about to kill, it had been the face of a man confused, perhaps reaching for a phone, or his glasses. He hadn't even stood up all the way. She had fired before he could even speak.
She had executed him. Instantly
She didn’t even hesitate.
All because she knew that Jinx was in danger.
Was she ever in danger?
Caitlyn looked at her trembling hands, then at Jinx’s, holding the steering wheel with bloodied knuckles.
Jinx drove with a terrifying, calm precision, humming a low tune under her breath. She looked radiant, as if the blood and the gunfire had been a spa treatment.
…
They ditched the car in a ravine and Jinx dragged Caitlyn by the hand through the outskirts of a small, grey mountain town. Caitlyn moved like a puppet, her limbs heavy, her mind still trapped in the dining room. Jinx eventually led her to an abandoned stone cellar on the edge of a vineyard—damp, lightless, and completely isolated.
"We’re safe here," Jinx whispered, finally letting go of Caitlyn’s wrist. She began to check her reflection in a shard of broken glass, wiping a stray drop of Hoskel’s blood from her cheek-–or perhaps some guard—she didn’t know anymore.
"That was... exhilarating, Cait," Jinx exclaimed, her voice breathless and light. She turned away from the glass, looking at Caitlyn with a terrifying fondness. "You saved me. You were... amazing."
Suddenly, Jinx began to twirl in the center of the damp room, her arms outstretched, spinning in ecstasy as if she were dancing under a spotlight rather than in a cellar. "I can feel the air again! Can you feel it, Cait? "
Caitlyn leaned against the cold stone wall, her breath coming in ragged, shallow hitches. The image of Hoskel’s empty hands burned in her retinas. "He didn't have a gun, Jinx."
Jinx didn't stop twirling. She just tilted her head back, her voice airy. "Of course he did. Or he would have. Eventually." She shrugged.
"He didn't have a gun," Caitlyn repeated, her voice rising, cracking under the weight of the realization. "And you said it. You said the codeword. Cupcake."
Jinx stopped spinning. She looked at Cat with wide, faux-innocent eyes. "Did I? I didn't notice. Cupcake is such a common word. People say it all the time."
"No," Caitlyn let out a sharp, humorless laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "Don't toy with me. You knew exactly what that word would do. You knew it would make me snap. You weren't in any real danger at all, were you?"
Jinx’s playful expression vanished, replaced by a sharp, defensive edge. "So what?! He was a bad guy, Cait! How does it make a difference? He’s dead, and we’re here. Why are you tallying the cost?"
"We had orders not to kill him!" Caitlyn screamed, the reality of it all finally crashing down. "I shot him because I thought you were in danger!"
Jinx took a slow step toward her, her eyes narrowing with a dark, predatory flick. "I didn't pull the trigger, did I?" she whispered, her voice a serrated blade. "That was all you, Caitlyn. You did that because you wanted to."
"I hate you," Caitlyn breathed, the words tasting like poison. "You manipulated me into this. You took my life, my marriage, my hands—and you covered them in blood just so I’d have nowhere else to go."
Caitlyn stepped forward, the horror of her own actions turning into a violent, physical need to strike back. She shoved Jinx hard. Jinx hit the stone wall with a thud, her head snapping back, her face twisting into an expression of pure, shocked outrage.
"What are you doing?" Jinx hissed. "I gave you a way out! I gave you a life that you wanted! We were finally supposed to be together!"
"We are nothing!" Caitlyn shoved her again, harder this time. "I'm going back. I'll tell them everything."
"You're ruining it!" Jinx screamed, the sound echoing off the damp stones. She looked like a child whose favorite toy had just fought back. "You're ruining our moment! I loved you enough to make you like me, and you’re acting like this?"
Caitlyn turned her back, stumbling toward the cellar stairs, her vision blurred by tears of rage and regret. "Don't follow me," she spat over her shoulder. "I never want to see your face again."
"Where are you going? Caitlyn! LOOK AT ME!"
Caitlyn turned her head instinctively toward the sound.
CRACK!
Then there was an echoing gunshot.
Caitlyn didn't feel the pain immediately, only a white-hot flash of light and a force that felt like a sledgehammer hitting the left side of her face. The world tilted violently. She was thrown backward, her head hitting the stone stairs before she slumped into the dirt.
"You don't get to leave," Jinx whispered, her voice trembling with a terrifying mix of hurt and hate.
Jinx looked at the woman bleeding in the dirt— the woman she had claimed in the most permanent way possible. Without another word, Jinx turned and vanished into the dark recesses of the cellar, the sound of her boots fading into the silence.