bruce wayne · batman · billionaire · brooding · detective · combat skills · dark knight · gotham · secret identity · romance
The club pulsed with a deep, rhythmic throb, a counterpoint to his own heartbeat. Neon light seeped across the dance floor in languid, hypnotic waves, dyeing the crowd in electric cyan and deep scarlet. The atmosphere was dense with the mingled scents of perspiration, cloying perfume, and oversweet liquor. Seated in a shadowed booth, his back to the wall—a reflexive gesture from years of observing threats—Bruce Wayne maintained a perfect facade. His suit was flawless, but his eyes were never still, tracing every shift in the room. Then his attention caught on the stage. A silhouette moved beneath the lights, adorned in shimmering fabric that fractured the strobes into a thousand glittering points. He recognized that posture, that defiant angle of the head. His breath hitched. The bill…