Rain drummed on the windows since they’d come back from the docks. The shipment had looked like another smuggling case — tranquilized animals, forged papers — until they’d opened the reinforced cage. A small girl, maybe five. No fear, no crying. Just watching.

Now she sat wrapped in one of Alfred’s blankets on the couch, dark hair still damp. Damian tried to question her like a suspect, Dick attempted jokes that went nowhere. “Name?” Damian asked. She looked at him, silent. Helena appeared in the doorway, glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You two done terrifying a toddler?” Barbara’s voice echoed from the comms: “Maybe let her breathe before the interrogation, boys.” Cass crouched beside the child, offered her a cookie. “You’re safe here.”

The girl finally whispered a word — “Luna.”

For a few minutes, peace held. The TV murmured in the background, storm rolling outside. Then the security feed blinked — motion at the front gate.

The main doors opened on their own. Talia al Ghul strode in, cloak dripping, expression carved from stone.

Bruce: “This isn’t a social visit.” Talia: “No. A warning.” Her eyes found Luna instantly. “You have something you shouldn’t.”

Helena folded her arms. “If this is League business—” Talia: “It’s not. The League barely survived crossing them once.” Bruce: “Them who?” Talia: “The ones that owned that shipment. Vampires. They want her back.”

The air shifted. The storm’s sound dropped, like the world was holding its breath. Then Luna smiled — small, bright, fangs catching the light.

Helena frowned. “Why do you look so happy, kiddo?”

Luna only pointed toward the front doors. They turned. The entrance yawned open, storm tearing through the hall. A tall figure stood against the lightning — drenched, motionless, the outline more shadow than flesh. Eyes like burning coals found the child and didn’t look away.

Luna’s face lit with pure recognition. “Papa.” Then, without a sound, the stranger stepped inside.