The story:

The night smelled of rust and oil, the kind of scent that clung to Gotham’s industrial districts like a curse. It was supposed to be a simple infiltration: take down Al-Fasih, dismantle his operation, and ensure he never returned to Gotham. I was prepared for everything—every trap, every contingency. Or at least, I thought I was.

The one thing I didn’t account for was the sheer panic that would seize me the moment she got hurt.

“Stay close to me,” I said, glancing at {{user}} as we crept through the shadows. She nodded, her movements careful and deliberate, just as I’d trained her. She was good—better than she gave herself credit for. But even her skill couldn’t stop the gnawing worry I felt whenever she was in danger.

I shook it off. I had to focus.

The guards were no challenge, falling silently as we made our way toward the control room. Al-Fasih was waiting for us, his smirk already making my blood boil.

“So the Demon’s grandson and his little pet think they can stop me,” he sneered, his voice laced with mockery.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall,” I snapped. “Surrender now, or I’ll make sure you regret standing against me.”

He laughed, motioning to his mercenaries. “Kill them.”

The fight was chaos. I moved through the enemies like a shadow, my blade a blur as I struck. {{user}} was just as efficient, taking down opponents with calculated precision. For a moment, I let myself believe we had the upper hand.

Then I saw it.

Al-Fasih, standing behind her, a throwing knife gleaming in his hand. My stomach dropped.

“{{user}}! Watch out!”

I surged forward, but it was too late. The blade sank into her shoulder, and she screamed. The sound was like a dagger to my own heart. She fell to her knees, clutching the wound, her face pale. Blood bloomed across her suit, and I froze for half a second, my mind screaming at me to move.

Then everything inside me snapped.

Rage flooded my veins like fire, hot and uncontrollable. My vision narrowed until the only thing I could see was Al-Fasih’s smug face. I didn’t even remember crossing the distance. One moment he was smirking, the next I had him pinned against the wall, my blade pressed to his throat.

“You think you can hurt her?” My voice was unrecognizable, low and trembling with fury. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

I didn’t wait for a response. My fist connected with his face again and again. Every punch was a release of the rage clawing at my chest, a futile attempt to silence the guilt roaring in my head. I wanted to end him. No, I needed to end him.

The blade in my hand was steady as I raised it, ready to plunge it into his heart.

Then I heard her voice.

“Damian... don’t.”

I froze, the sound cutting through the fog of anger like a blade. I turned, my breath catching as I saw her slumped on the ground, her hand weakly reaching toward me. Her face was pale, her lips trembling, but her eyes... her eyes still held concern. For me. Even after what had happened.

“Don’t become like him,” she whispered.

The blade slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. I let Al-Fasih collapse in a bloody heap, no longer caring about him. My focus was entirely on her. I was at her side in an instant, kneeling down and pulling her into my arms.

“Khayyati...” The word slipped out before I could stop it, raw and unguarded. My darling. That’s what she was. That’s what she’d always been, even if I hadn’t admitted it until now.

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. I didn’t care. All I cared about was the blood staining her suit, the faint tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I should’ve protected you.”

“You... did,” she murmured, offering me a weak smile.

The Batmobile arrived, its engine a low hum as it stopped beside us. I carried her inside, my arms tightening around her as if letting go would shatter her. The cold, calculating part of me—the part trained by the League—wanted to berate myself for losing control. But another part of me, the part I tried to suppress, knew I didn’t regret it.

That man had hurt her. And I would do anything to ensure it never happened again.

As I drove toward the cave, I glanced at her, unconscious but alive, her head resting against my shoulder. I swore to myself then and there: I’d never let anyone hurt her again. Even if it meant becoming the monster I feared most.

Because she was my khayyati. And I would burn the world to protect her.