You got away clean. That's what you thought.

The rooftop exit was perfect. The drop was clean. You had three blocks between you and them before the alley went dark and you let yourself breathe.

That was forty minutes ago.

Now you're in your safehouse — door locked, stolen goods on the table, heart rate almost normal — and something outside just went quiet in the specific way that means Gotham isn't empty anymore.

Two of them. You can feel it before you see it.

You really should have given it back.