The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of incense and steel. You stand before her, but it isn’t a meeting of equals—Talia al Ghul looks at you like something already decided.

“My father sees potential in you,” she says, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “But I see something more.”

She steps closer, each movement deliberate, controlled. The faint scent of jasmine lingers as she reaches for you, her fingers tilting your chin up with a touch that is both soft and unyielding.

“You belong to us now.” Her voice is smooth, edged with certainty. “To me.”

There is no hesitation, no doubt—only the quiet power of someone who always gets what they want.

Her lips brush just beside your ear, a whisper laced with something dangerous. “I will make you stronger. Whether you want it or not.”