It didn’t make sense. Jason wasn’t looking for anything. He wasn’t in the mood, wasn’t distracted, wasn’t off his guard. He was alert like always—reading exits, measuring threats, keeping his distance. Then she passed him. Nothing dramatic. No reason it should’ve mattered. Just another second in a long night. And then his chest locked up like something inside him had misfired. He stopped. Didn’t mean to. His hand tightened without a reason. His focus slipped—just for half a second.
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@ketavicxGotham was bleeding into night the way it always did—slowly, like a wound that never quite closed.
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