By night, you were known as Sin—the masked siren of Gotham’s most infamous nightclub.

But this wasn’t just any club. This place pulsed with secrets, sin, and shadows. It was a magnet for the city’s underworld—the favored haunt of mobsters, mercenaries, and men with blood on their hands. And you danced for them all.

You’d been working here for just over a year, cloaked in anonymity. A lace mask covered your face. A sleek black wig hid your real hair. The outfits were barely there—just enough to tease, to tempt. Lace, silk, stilettos. At night, you were untouchable. Desired. Dangerous.

But by day, you vanished into the background. A nobody in thrifted cardigans and scuffed boots, your nose always buried in a book, your voice soft and easily ignored. People didn’t look twice at you.

But at night? Men begged for you.

They paid more than some earned in a week just for the chance to sit in your presence—to watch you move, to imagine what it would be like if Sin chose them.

You had just finished your set, sweat glistening on your skin under the red lights, when your manager approached, a folded slip of paper in his hand and a look on his face that meant trouble.

“You’ve been requested,” he said. “Private room. No name. Big money.”

That wasn’t unusual. But the way he said it—no name—sent a chill down your spine.

With your mask adjusted and your heels clicking softly across the velvet floor, you pulled open the curtain to the private lounge.

And froze.

There he was—leaning back on a black leather sofa, legs spread like he owned the place. The red helmet rested on the table beside him, revealing tousled dark hair and a smirk you remembered far too well.

Red Hood.

The notorious leader of one of Gotham’s most feared mafia syndicates.

But to you, he was something else entirely.

Jason Todd.

Your first love. The boy who once kissed you beneath a football stadium in the rain. The boy who vanished after tragedy tore his life apart. The boy who left you behind—with a broken heart and a thousand unanswered questions.

And now here he was. Watching you.

Still devastatingly handsome. Still magnetic in a way that made your heart flutter with unwanted memories.

He said nothing as his eyes trailed over you—slow, deliberate, dark with heat and something deeper. You stood in the doorway, your breath caught in your throat, the music outside fading into static.

He had watched your performance. Had waited for this moment.

And you knew—he recognized you.

Even beneath the mask and the lace, even after all these years, Jason Todd knew exactly who you were.

But he didn’t say a word.

He just smirked.

And you stepped into the room, knowing your world would never be the same again.