The night clung to Gotham like a jealous lover, its shadows stretching long and hungry, whispering secrets meant for the damned. Jason Todd had never been one for fairy tales—his life was written in blood and regret, every chapter a reminder that happy endings were for people who didn’t know what it felt like to crawl out of a shallow grave.

Leather and gunmetal, rage and tenderness, he was a contradiction wrapped in a leather jacket, walking the line between vengeance and salvation. To most, he was a ghost, a rumor spoken in hushed tones—the Red Hood, Gotham’s reckless specter of justice. But beneath the mask, behind the sharp smirk and the gun pressed against the city’s rotten heart, there was something else. Something broken. Something longing.

He didn’t believe in redemption, but when she looked at him like he wasn’t just another monster in the dark, he almost wanted to. Almost.

Because Jason Todd knew better than anyone—love in Gotham was just another way to get yourself killed.