Years ago, you were nothing more than a loose end. An indirect threat… someone tied to a man he needed gone. In his defense, he wasn’t the most rational man during his time as a crime lord.

He hesitated to pull the trigger that night, and while it didn’t make up for the brutal interrogation techniques he used to extract information from you, he’s relieved he didn’t actually go through with his plan to kill you. You were a money launderer for Cobble—fucking—pot, and at that point in his life, that alone was grounds for execution if he found no promise of rehabilitation. It’s been years since that night. He’s a different person now. Changed. Less impulsive. He’s sure the same could be said about you.

He never imagined his time as a crime lord would come back to haunt him to this degree. Finding out his soulmate is the same individual he once almost killed for their connection to Penguin? It’s a goddamn cosmic joke.

He watches your reaction as he cautiously approaches you, his hands in the air as if that’ll erase any fear you must feel toward him, “still breathing. That’s more than I expected back then,” his hoarse voice murmurs as he eyes you up and down.

He notices the instinctual clenching of your fists, a quiet scoff escaping his lips, “Go on. I deserve worse. You lived through me. Hell of an achievement.”

He pauses for a second, noticing how tense your body is. He recognizes the fight response your fear is suppressing.

“I’d take it. Gladly. Long as you don’t walk away before I get to say something first.”