CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: OATHS

The fires in the Narrows still raged, thick smoke curling through the air, laced with the acrid stench of charred wood and flesh. In the distance, a building groaned and collapsed, the impact almost in sync with the wailing sirens—too far, too late to matter.

The sound barely registered past the ringing in Taylor’s ears.

Still kneeling, she exhaled sharply, breath ragged, chest tight with something she couldn’t name.

Not grief. Not sorrow.

Something colder. Sharper.

“I’ll kill them.” The words rasped from her throat before she even realized she’d spoken. Her fingers curled into the dirt. “Every last one of them.”

A weak hand closed around her wrist.

She flinched. Looked down.

Marla stared up at her, eyes unfocused but pleading.

“Don’t.” Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “Don’t go down that road.”

Taylor swallowed. She couldn’t look away.

Marla had taken her in. Given her a place. Given her trust. Taylor had no right to let her see what she was becoming.

But it was too late. Her mind was made up.

“This isn’t what he would’ve wanted,” Marla murmured, her grip tightening with what little strength she had left. “Don’t—you can’t let this—”

Taylor gently pried Marla’s fingers away, setting them carefully against her side.

Then she rose to her feet, barely aware of the movement. The firelight cast long shadows over the wreckage, turning bodies into silhouettes, the city into a graveyard.

There was nothing left to say.

She turned and walked away.

. . . . .

Spoiler found her first.

Taylor had barely made it two blocks before a grappling line snapped taut in front of her, cutting her off. A blur of purple landed hard on the pavement, blocking her path.

Spoiler’s mask was on, but Taylor could feel the look she was getting.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Taylor didn’t stop. She moved to step around her. Spoiler shifted, blocking her again.

“Wraith.” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Taylor exhaled sharply, forcing her rage down. “Move.”

Spoiler didn’t budge. “Not happening.”

Taylor’s patience frayed. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You don’t have time?” Spoiler let out a hollow laugh, throwing out an arm. “In case you missed it, the Narrows just got flattened. People are dying. Right now. We need to help them.”

Taylor’s fists clenched. “The only way to help them is to make sure the bastard responsible for this never does it again.”

Spoiler’s shoulders squared. “And you think killing the Calculator is going to fix this?”

Taylor’s silence was answer enough.

Spoiler inhaled sharply through her nose, her lips pressed into a thin line beneath her mask. “This is Gotham, Wraith. Do you know how many times I’ve seen this happen? How many times people swear revenge, say they’re gonna end it once and for all?”

Taylor’s gaze darkened. “And that’s supposed to make me stop? That this is just normal?”

“No. It’s supposed to make you think.” Spoiler took a step closer, her voice low but urgent. “You think I don’t get it? I’ve been where you are. I’ve wanted to burn it all down, make them pay. But it never works.”

Taylor scoffed. “Spare me the lecture.”

Spoiler didn’t flinch. “No, really. Let’s play this out.” Her hands curled into fists. “You kill him. Then what? You think that’s the end? You think that magically fixes things?”

Taylor’s shoulders went rigid.

“It doesn’t,” Spoiler continued, her voice sharp. “All it does is put you on the list. And guess what? Gotham eats people like that. You want Batman coming for you? Because he will. You want Nightwing and Oracle watching you, waiting for you to slip up? You want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next assassin, the next enemy, the next person trying to prove a point?”

Taylor’s nails dug into her palms. “I don’t care.”

Spoiler let out a slow breath. “You will.”

Taylor’s hands trembled at her sides. “Move.”

“Dammit, Wraith. Where does it stop?”

“When they’re all dead.”

Spoiler swore under her breath. “Jesus. You don’t even hear yourself.”

Taylor turned away.

A hand grabbed her arm.

She glanced down at Spoiler’s hand, at the way her fingers curled around her wrist—firm, desperate. Then she met her gaze, and for a long moment, neither of them moved.

Slowly, Taylor pried Spoiler’s fingers away.

“I have to.”

She turned and walked away without another word.

Spoiler didn’t stop her.

Not yet.