Chapter 50 : Cat Troubles
The fight had been building for days.
I could see it in Selina's silences, in the way she watched me during phone calls and meetings, in the careful distance she maintained even when we shared the same space. The heist had repaired something between us, but Black Mask's attack had broken something else—or maybe just revealed cracks that had always been there.
It started over dinner.
"When does it stop, Darek?"
I looked up from my pasta. Her fork was still in her hand, but she wasn't eating. Her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my stomach tighten.
"When does what stop?"
"This." She gestured vaguely. "The expansion. The empire building. The war."
"I'm not building an empire. I'm protecting territory that depends on me."
"Is that what you're calling it?" Her voice sharpened. "First the Narrows. Then East End. Then Bowery. Now you're going to war with Black Mask. What's next? All of Gotham?"
"Black Mask came to me. He attacked my people. I'm supposed to just let that stand?"
"No. But..." She set down her fork. "When I met you, you had four blocks. Four blocks and a handful of men and a code you'd die for. You were fighting to survive, not to conquer."
"I'm still fighting to survive."
"Are you?" She leaned forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're fighting to win. And there's a difference."
The accusation landed harder than I expected. I pushed back from the table, appetite gone.
"What do you want me to do, Selina? Let Black Mask push into my territory? Let him hurt the people I've sworn to protect? Should I roll over because fighting back makes you uncomfortable?"
"That's not what I said."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't recognize you anymore." Her voice cracked slightly. "The man I fell in love with was building something. Now you're just defending it from everyone who threatens it—and there will always be threats, Darek. Always. This war with Black Mask, it won't be the last. There will be another one after him, and another one after that. When does it end?"
"It ends when I'm strong enough that no one dares challenge me."
"And when is that? When you control half of Gotham? All of it?" She stood, pacing. "Listen to yourself. You sound like every crime lord who ever destroyed himself trying to hold onto power."
"I'm not like them."
"Then prove it. Show me there's a limit. Show me there's a point where you say 'enough' and actually mean it."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend myself, to explain all the reasons why what I was doing was necessary, why Black Mask couldn't be allowed to establish a foothold, why weakness invited destruction in this city.
But looking at her face—the fear, the frustration, the love that was starting to look like grief—I couldn't find the words.
"I don't know what you want from me," I said finally.
"I want you to be the man I fell in love with. I want you to be Darek, not the Broker." She stopped pacing, faced me directly. "I want to know that somewhere under all the strategies and alliances and territory maps, there's still a person who gives a damn about something other than power."
"I give a damn about you."
"Do you? Because lately it feels like I'm just another asset. Another piece of the empire." Her voice broke. "I'm Catwoman, Darek. I've been independent my entire life. And somehow, with you, I've become someone who waits at home while her boyfriend fights wars."
"That's not fair."
"Maybe not. But it's true."
We stared at each other across the ruins of dinner. The distance between us felt larger than the physical space—a gulf of expectations and fears and needs that couldn't be reconciled with words.
"I love you," I said. "That hasn't changed."
"I know." She picked up her wine glass, finally, and drained it. "But love isn't enough if we want different things. And I'm starting to think we do."
"What do you want?"
"I don't know anymore. That's the problem."
We didn't storm out. We were both too mature for that, too aware that dramatic exits only made things worse. Instead, we cleaned up dinner in silence, moved through our evening routines like strangers sharing a space, and eventually went to bed.
We slept on opposite sides of the mattress. Close enough to touch, miles apart.
In the morning, we tried again.
"I'm sorry," I said over coffee. "I didn't mean to dismiss your concerns."
"I'm sorry too," she said. "I shouldn't have called you just another crime lord. That was cruel."
"But not entirely wrong."
She didn't deny it. The silence stretched between us, filled with things neither of us wanted to say.
"I love you," she said finally. "I need you to know that. Whatever happens, whatever we decide—I love you."
"I love you too."
"But I don't know if I can love what you're becoming." She looked away. "And I don't know if you can change it. Or if you even want to."
I reached for her hand. She let me take it, but the grip was loose, uncertain.
"I need time," she said. "I need to think."
"Take whatever you need."
That night, she went out. Solo heist, she said. Something she'd been planning for a while. She didn't tell me where, didn't ask for backup, didn't include me in the planning.
I didn't ask. I understood what she was doing—reclaiming the independence I'd inadvertently taken from her. Reminding herself that she was Catwoman, not just the Broker's girlfriend.
The penthouse felt empty after she left.
I sat in the living room, staring at the city lights, trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong. The Morrison heist had brought us back together. The Black Mask conflict had driven us apart. The pattern seemed obvious in retrospect—every time I prioritized the empire, our relationship suffered.
But what was I supposed to do? Let Black Mask terrorize my territory? Let Rashid's blood go unavenged? The people who depended on me didn't have the luxury of waiting while I figured out my relationship.
"The code," Leonard had said once. "That's what separates us from the animals."
I had a code. I'd held to it through everything. But was that enough? Was having principles the same as being a good person?
Selina didn't come home until nearly dawn. I pretended to be asleep when she slipped into bed, and she pretended not to notice.
The distance between us grew.
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