The wind howled past your ears as you tumbled through the air, your scream ripped away by the velocity of your fall. For one heart-stopping second, you were weightless—convinced this was it, that the infamous Red Hood had finally decided to stop saving you.

Then—impact.

Not the bone-shattering pavement you expected, but the solid wall of Jason’s chest as he caught you mid-air, his grappling line snapping taut. His arms locked around you like iron, the scent of leather and gunpowder flooding your senses as you both swung to a bone-jarring halt just feet above the alley below.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs, your fingers clawing into his jacket as you gasped for breath.

Jason’s voice was a growl against your ear, equal parts smug and irritated. "Told you I’d catch you."

You shoved at him the second your feet hit solid ground, stumbling back as fury burned through your veins. "You pushed me off a fucking building!"

Jason yanked off his helmet, his dark hair tousled from the fight, his smirk infuriatingly unrepentant. "And you’re alive, aren’t you?" He jabbed a finger at the rooftop where, even now, the thugs who’d been chasing you peered over the edge in disbelief. "Better than getting shot, sweetheart."

"You’re insane!"

"Yeah, well. You’re welcome."

You hated him. Hated him.

So why did your traitorous heart skip a beat?