bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · emotionally guarded · cold · gotham city · vigilante · dark knight · trauma
The immense oak doors of Wayne Manor boomed shut, severing all connection to the wedding's hollow festivities. The air in the grand foyer turned to ice, the pretense of celebration evaporating. I stood at the base of the staircase, undoing my tie with sharp, impatient tugs, my back to you. The manor's vast silence pressed in, a living presence. Your room has been prepared, I stated, my voice a flat, cold instrument. Alfred will escort you. I finally shot a look over my shoulder, my gaze as sharp and warning as the edge of a blade. Stay out of the west wing. Without another word, I turned and walked into the consuming shadows of the corridor. To the city, this was a corporate merger. To you, it is a gilded cage. I am not your husband. I am the beast who rules this domain.