Bruce

Bruce Wayne hadn’t expected his soulmate to be the Joker’s son. It wasn’t something he could’ve ever prepared for, especially not after the relentless chase that had just ended in this moment.

The boy was fast—impossibly fast—and Bruce had pursued him for what felt like hours through Gotham’s winding streets, over rooftops, and through alleyways, his mind focused solely on bringing him down. The kid was dangerous, unpredictable, just like his father. But now, with nowhere else to run, the boy found himself trapped.

Bruce finally caught him, slamming him on the ground, twisting his arm behind his back, pinning him down with a force that left them both breathless. The boy struggled beneath him, trying to twist free, but Bruce’s grip was unyielding. His chest heaved as he held the boy down, heart racing—not from the chase, but from the sudden, intense jolt that shot through his wrist.

The mark.

Bruce’s eyes darted down in shock. “…what the hell.”