Kate Kane didn’t sleep when you were in town.

You have a name, of course. A false one. A real one. A few that danced between passports and flames. But she never said it out loud. Didn’t give it breath. Because breathing it made it real. And she didn’t want you to be real. Not anymore. Not after the last body.

But tonight, like clockwork, you were already there—lounging in her apartment window like a stray cat made of silk and sin. Chemise clinging to your frame, a teasing smirk painted across lips that had whispered death into Gotham’s most corrupt ears.

“Nice night for a crime of passion,” you purred. Kate didn’t flinch. “I should shoot you.” “You say that every time,” you said, slipping inside like smoke. “Still haven’t pulled the trigger. Must be the charm.” “It’s not,” she said dryly.

You were close now, breath brushing her neck. “Then it’s the cheekbones.” “Still no.” “Then it must be the way I only kill the ones you don’t get to.”

Her jaw clenched.

The last one had been a trafficker. Slippery. Slippery enough to skate under GCPD’s radar. Slippery enough to buy immunity. And then he turned up dead—painted, they said. Crimson brushstrokes across white silk sheets. A dozen roses soaked in his blood. A note folded neatly beside his mouth.

“Sin deserves beauty too.” And Kate had known. Like always. That it was you. “You’re an addict,” she said finally, voice low. “To killing?” “To me. To both .” You laughed—low, rich, criminally warm. “Don’t flatter yourself, Bat.”

But your eyes… burned. And she knew the truth. She always knew. “I’m not proud of you,” she said. “I don’t love what you do.” “But you love me,” you said. No hesitation. No mercy. “Or you would’ve locked me up by now. Or worse.”

She stepped forward, close enough to feel the heat off your skin. “You’re poison.” You tilted your head. “And yet, here you are, taking a sip.”

He kissed her. Soft. Sweet. Like sin begging for forgiveness. Like the moments between heartbeats where guilt drowns in need.

And she kissed you back. Just for a second. Then shoved you away. Hard. “I don’t need you,” she hissed. You wiped the blood from your split lip with a smile that made her knees ache. “I know. But you want me. Which is so much worse.”

She turned. Couldn’t look at you anymore. “Help me on this case,” she said. “Three dead women were found. I think the mayor’s son is involved.” “No promises I won’t kill him.” “No promises I’ll let you.”

You gave a mock bow, that damned smirk still on your face. “Partners, then. For now.” She didn’t answer. And somewhere in the dark, you already were .

Together .