Chapter 55 : The Night Before
"I want to come with you."
Selina stood in the penthouse living room, fully suited. The catsuit hugged her form like a second skin, goggles pushed up on her forehead, whip coiled at her hip. Ready for war.
My heart stopped.
"No."
Her eyes flashed—that dangerous green that meant she wasn't asking. "I'm not asking permission."
"Selina—"
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't 'Selina' me. Don't treat me like I'm fragile. Don't pretend you're protecting me by leaving me behind."
"It's too dangerous. Black Mask is—"
"I know what he is." She stepped closer, voice tight. "I know exactly what Roman Sionis does to people who cross him. I've seen his handiwork. I've fought his soldiers. I was dealing with Black Mask when you were still learning the streets of the Narrows."
She wasn't wrong. Before I'd transmigrated into this life, Selina had been surviving Gotham's underworld for years. She'd faced threats I could only read about in meta-knowledge, emerged from them scarred but standing.
But knowing that didn't stop the cold dread pooling in my stomach.
"If something happened to you—"
"Then don't let it." She grabbed my shirt, pulled me close. "I can't sit here, Darek. I can't wait in this penthouse wondering if you're alive or dead. I can't be that woman—the one who stays home while her man fights and hopes he comes back."
"This isn't about what kind of woman you are. This is about—"
"Control." Her voice softened, but her grip didn't loosen. "You want to control everything. The territory, the empire, me. But you can't. You can't protect everyone from everything. And you definitely can't protect me by making me feel helpless."
We stood there, locked together, the weight of tomorrow pressing down on both of us.
"I was fighting in this city before you woke up in that alley," she said quietly. "Don't treat me like a civilian."
The words hit harder than any blow. She was right—she'd always been right about this. I'd been so focused on protecting her that I'd forgotten she didn't need protection. She needed partnership.
"If you come," I said slowly, "you follow the plan. No improvisation, no heroics."
"Says the man who improvises constantly."
"I'm serious. The facility is going to be chaos. Black Mask's soldiers, possible reinforcements, unknown variables. I need to know you're where you're supposed to be."
Selina studied my face. "What role?"
"Rear security. Extraction support. You cover our exit, make sure no one flanks us, and if things go sideways, you're our insurance." I cupped her face in my hands. "Not the front line. Not where the heaviest fighting will be."
"That's actually tactical, not just protective."
"It's both."
She considered for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"I can work with that." She rose on her toes, kissed me softly. "I'm not porcelain, Darek. You don't have to handle me carefully."
"I know." I pressed my forehead against hers. "That's why I love you."
We didn't sleep.
The hours before dawn crept by slowly, filled with the quiet rituals of people who might not see another night. We checked weapons, reviewed plans, went through contingencies for contingencies. But mostly we talked.
"Do you remember the Daggett job?" Selina asked. We were on the couch, her legs draped across my lap, the city lights painting shadows on the ceiling.
"The penthouse. The fire alarm. You covered in extinguisher foam." I smiled at the memory. "You looked like a ghost."
"You came back for me." Her voice was soft. "You could have run when those contractors had me pinned. Instead you came back."
"Of course I did."
"That's when I knew." She traced patterns on my chest. "Not that I loved you—that came later. But that you were different. That whatever this was between us, it mattered."
"It still matters."
"I know." She was quiet for a moment. "Tomorrow's going to be bad."
"Yes."
"People are going to die."
"Yes."
"You're ready for that?"
I thought about Martinez and Young. About the paper in my pocket with their names written on it. About the families that would never see them again because Black Mask had decided to test my borders.
"Ready isn't the right word," I said. "But I understand what it costs. And I'm willing to pay it."
She nodded slowly. "So am I."
We lay there as the sky lightened, holding onto each other, stealing what peace we could from the hours remaining. Somewhere across the city, Penguin's charity gala was filling with Gotham's elite. GCPD officers in formal wear, distracted by champagne and politics, unaware that the night would end in fire.
"I love you," Selina said as the first gray light of dawn touched the windows.
"I love you too."
"If something happens tonight—"
"It won't."
"But if it does." She propped herself up, looked down at me with those green eyes that had seen too much and still believed in something. "I want you to know that this year with you has been the best of my life. Whatever happens, I don't regret any of it."
"Selina—"
"Just listen." She pressed a finger to my lips. "I've spent my whole life running. From foster homes, from cops, from anyone who got too close. But with you, I stopped running. For the first time in my life, I wanted to stay. That means something."
I pulled her down, kissed her properly—deep and slow and full of everything I couldn't put into words. Tomorrow we'd be soldiers. Tonight, we were just two people who'd found something precious in a city that destroyed precious things.
The kiss broke. We lay there, breathing together, as the dawn painted Gotham gold.
"Time to gear up," I said finally.
"I know."
We rose, dressed in silence, transformed ourselves into weapons. Last check of equipment, last review of communications, last moment of stillness before the storm.
At the door, Selina stopped me. One more kiss—quick, fierce, a promise and a prayer.
"See you on the other side," she said.
"Count on it."
Then we were gone, swallowed by the morning, heading toward fire.
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