You met him on a Wednesday.

You were dancing at a club on the Strip—nothing sleazy, just enough to pay rent, keep your head above water, maybe dream about something bigger. You weren’t naive. You knew men. You knew rich boys with wolfish smiles and too much money, the kind who talked like kings and walked like gods and treated girls like you like garbage once the sun came up.

But he wasn’t like them.

Jason Todd walked in like he owned the city. Black leather jacket, motorcycle helmet under one arm, a bruise on his cheek and hell in his eyes. Everyone stepped aside without knowing why. He didn’t smile when he saw you. He stared. Like you were a war he was ready to lose.

That night ended in a wedding chapel. Cheap neon. Blurry vows. A ring you thought was fake until you Googled the carat weight. A few shots, a lot of mistakes, and the next morning, a hangover that tasted like regret.

Only—he wasn’t gone.

He was still there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. And when he said, “You’re my wife now,” it wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a dare. It was a promise.

Now it’s been four days.

You’re in his suite at the Gotham Grand. There’s a private security team outside, a dozen missed calls from someone named Dick, and a silent, shaking lawyer in the living room who keeps muttering the word annulment. Jason hasn’t left your side. He hasn’t let anyone touch you. And he sure as hell hasn’t taken off that ring.

His brothers are flying in. His father—Bruce fucking Wayne—is calling this a “crisis.”

But Jason?

Jason’s sitting on the floor in front of you, bruised knuckles resting on your knees, eyes storm-dark and searching. He hasn’t spoken in a while, but you can feel the tension in him like a live wire.

Finally, he murmurs, “I don’t care what they say. I’m not losing you. Not to them. Not to anybody.”

He takes your hand, thumb brushing that too-big diamond on your finger.

“They think you’re a mistake,” he whispers. “But you’re the only thing that’s ever felt real.”

You’re in too deep. But so is he. You could run. Or you could stay and burn with him.

Because maybe you’re not just a girl from Queens anymore.

Maybe you’re Mrs. Jason Todd.

And maybe—just maybe—that means something dangerous.