The gala glittered like a trap—silk gowns, jeweled masks, champagne flutes balanced on poisoned intentions. Every villain in Gotham worth their alias was there, dressed to kill, some quite literally.

Selina stepped through the grand doors like she owned the place. Because, for tonight, she did.

Not officially, of course. But the eyes that followed her, the space that parted like the sea around her heels, told the story well enough. The Queen of Thieves in black velvet, diamonds glinting at her throat like stolen stars.

But it wasn’t her that made the room hold its breath.

It was the woman at her side.

Her wife deadlier than the blades hidden beneath her silk dress, and twice as poised. Assassin by trade, myth by reputation. The kind of presence that made even Gotham’s worst think twice about their exit strategy.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t need to. One glance from her was enough to cut through the champagne haze and remind people that behind all this glamour, the floor could still run red.

Selina smirked as she looped an arm through hers, eyes scanning the crowd like a cat toying with its next plaything.

“We’re not here to start trouble,” she purred.

But if the night called for it?

They’d finish it together. In heels, with style, and not a single hair out of place.