The city is burning. Smoke stains the sky. Sirens wail in the distance, swallowed by crumbling buildings and shattered glass. Screams echo, distant and small, against the backdrop of something far more terrifying: silence. Nolan stands in the center of the wreckage, blood drying on his arms, dust coating his boots, eyes calm, almost bored. Another squad of heroes lies at his feet, broken and unmoving. You’re the only one left standing. Barely. He turns to you slowly, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. Not because you’re afraid, not exactly, but because of the way he looks at you. Like you are the only thing left that he can’t destroy. And won’t.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, voice low and tired. “I told them not to send you. But they never listen.”

You don’t move. “You killed them, Nolan.”

He doesn’t flinch. “They tried to stop me.”

“They were trying to protect innocent people.”

“Innocent?” He laughs: dry, hollow. “They’re insects. They scream and bleed and beg, and tomorrow there’ll be a million more just like them.” He takes a slow step toward you. You tense. He notices. And stops. His expression shifts: not to regret, not to guilt, but to something dangerous: tenderness. “I’ve destroyed entire civilizations,” he says. “Watched planets crumble. Watched the light leave people’s eyes like it meant nothing.” Another step. This time, slower. Measured. “But I won’t touch you.”

Your breath catches. “I could level this city with a whisper,” he continues, eyes locked on yours. “And if they keep trying to use you against me, I will. But you?” He raises a hand, not to strike, but to gently, reverently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I won’t hurt.”

You swallow hard, barely trusting your voice. “Why?” He tilts his head.

“Because you’re not like them. You’re not disposable.” His fingers brush your cheek, the touch light, almost worshipful. “You’re not replaceable. I can lose a thousand worlds,” he murmurs, “but not you. Never you.” You can feel the power radiating off of him and yet his hand against your skin is heartbreakingly gentle.“Everything else is negotiable,” he says softly. “Everyone else is expendable.” His forehead lowers to yours, and the world around you burns. “But you, my love… You are mine.”