Chapter 25 : The Masks Come Off
The False Face warehouse burned behind us.
Not literally—we'd been surgical, precise—but their money-laundering operation was ash. Three days of planning, one night of execution, and Selina's territory was secure. For now.
We sat in the Monarch Theatre, sharing wine on the stage. Our tradition. The bottle was half-empty, the night was young, and something in the air felt different.
"We crippled them," Selina said. Her voice carried satisfaction—earned, deserved. "Their main processing center is gone. The East End will have breathing room."
"They'll rebuild."
"Eventually. But not soon." She swirled her wine, watching the legs form. "Black Mask lost money tonight. Lots of it. He'll be cautious for a while, trying to figure out who hit him."
We'd been careful—no witnesses, no evidence, no trail. The operation had been textbook: Selina's knowledge of the East End, my crew's muscle for the heavy lifting, and enough planning to make it look like a rival gang's work.
"Terry's team did well. Carlos proved himself. The structure is working."
"You're quiet," Selina observed.
"Thinking."
"About?"
About her. About us. About the weeks of planning sessions that had become something more than business. About phone calls that lasted until dawn and touches that lingered longer than necessary.
"We work well together," I said instead.
"We do." She set down her glass. "Better than I expected."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It's an observation." But she was smiling. "I don't usually work with people, Darek. I don't usually trust people. But with you..." She trailed off.
The silence stretched between us—comfortable, weighted with unspoken things.
I'd been patient. Weeks of patience, letting her set the pace, never pushing. But patience had limits. And I needed to know.
"Selina, I need to know what this is."
She looked at me. That careful mask she wore—the one that protected her from the world—flickered.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this. Us. The calls, the meetings, the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching." I set down my own glass. "I can't keep pretending I don't feel something. I need to know if it's just me."
The theatre was silent. Dust motes drifted in the dim light. Somewhere outside, Gotham continued its eternal rotation of violence and survival.
"I told you I don't do relationships," Selina said quietly.
"I remember."
"They're complicated. People get close, and then they leave, or they die, or they betray you. I've seen it happen. I've lived it." Her voice was careful, controlled. "Every person I've ever let in has hurt me eventually. Not always on purpose, but always... always."
I waited. This was her moment—her decision to make.
"But I've never met anyone like you." She stood, wine forgotten, crossing to where I sat. "You're dangerous and kind. Ruthless and gentle. You have a code that you actually follow. You came for me when I was pinned down in that penthouse. You stayed all night when I was hurt."
She stopped in front of me, close enough to touch.
"I don't know how to handle that," she continued. "I don't know how to be with someone who actually... who actually cares. Not for what I can do for them, not for what I represent, but for me. For Selina."
I rose, standing level with her. Her eyes were green and vulnerable—more vulnerable than I'd ever seen them.
"I'm not asking you to have all the answers," I said. "I'm asking if you want to figure them out together."
"I want—" She stopped. Started again. "I want to try. With you. Just..." Her voice caught. "Be patient with me. I'm not good at this."
I cupped her face in my hands. Gentle. Careful. The way you touch something precious.
"I'll learn with you."
She leaned in.
Our noses bumped.
She laughed—that genuine, surprised sound I'd come to treasure—and pulled back slightly.
"Smooth, Broker."
"Shut up and try again."
We did.
The second attempt was better. Her lips were warm, soft, tasting faintly of wine. The kiss was tentative at first—testing, exploring—then deepened as weeks of tension found release.
My hands found her waist. Her fingers tangled in my hair. The world narrowed to this moment, this person, this impossible connection I'd never expected to find.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she was smiling.
"That was better."
"Practice makes perfect."
"Is that an offer?"
"It's a promise."
[ROMANCE: SELINA KYLE]
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Dating]
[BOND: +20]
I dismissed the notification. This wasn't about system mechanics. This was about her.
We stayed in the theatre until dawn, talking between kisses, making plans for a future neither of us had expected to have. The world outside was still dangerous. Gotham was still brutal. False Face was still a threat.
But neither of us had to face it alone anymore.
"What happens now?" Selina asked as the first gray light crept through the broken windows.
"Now we figure it out. Together."
She smiled—soft, unguarded, real.
"Together. I like the sound of that."
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