Dubai's wealth shimmered like an endless mirage. Beneath its dazzling surface of high-end skyscrapers, shimmering lights, and luxury sports cars, there was a restless energy—a constant undercurrent of hidden agendas and veiled threats. Bruce and Dick felt it the moment they arrived. The glittering metropolis was a different kind of jungle, where power wasn't won through brute force but whispered deals and carefully placed alliances.

For three days, they followed whispers through the city's underbelly, piecing together Aubrey's trail. The search led them here—to the heart of Dubai's social elite, a party hosted in one of the city's grandest ballrooms.

The building loomed before them, a modern marvel of glass and steel. Inside, the ballroom was an extravagant display of wealth: gold accents covered every surface, from the spiraling staircases to the oversized chandeliers dripping with crystals. Guests moved like a school of fish, their conversations lilting and carefully curated.

"She's here," Bruce said softly. He stood at the entrance, his sharp eyes already scanning the crowd.

Dick followed his gaze, his jaw tightening when he spotted her. Aubrey was a vision, standing in the center of the room like a queen holding court. She wore a fitted red gown that shimmered as she moved, the fabric clinging to her curves before pooling elegantly at her feet. Her hair, now cropped short, curled just above her collarbone, a stark departure from the flowing locks she once had. Black diamond earrings hung above her shoulders, and her makeup was bold. The slit in her dress revealed her tanned leg and the black heels she wore. The change was bold, sophisticated—and undeniably striking.

Dick frowned. "She's wearing Jason's color, even though they split."

Bruce's voice was quiet, almost detached. "It's not for him. She's wearing it to remind herself why she left. Look at her eyes, that carefree look is practiced the same way ours is."

Dick's stomach churned at the weight of Bruce's words. Aubrey's smile was dazzling, but her eyes betrayed her. Beneath the surface, she was guarded, her warmth carefully practiced. It wasn't the carefree, fiery woman they had once known—it was someone who had rebuilt herself brick by brick, her vulnerabilities locked away.

As Bruce and Dick moved through the crowd, they felt eyes following them. Their sharp suits allowed them to blend in, but their presence still radiated purpose. Aubrey noticed them immediately, her posture stiffening for a fraction of a second before her mask of indifference slipped back into place.

When they finally reached her, she met Bruce's gaze, her expression unreadable. "I didn't think you'd have the gall to show up here," she said, her voice quiet but sharp.

"We need to talk," Bruce said, his tone as unwavering as ever.

Aubrey's lips curled into a wry smile. "There's nothing left to talk about. I left Gotham for a reason. You know that."

Dick stepped forward, his voice softer. "Aubrey, Ja—"

"Don't, say his name." she interrupted sharply, her eyes narrowing. She set her glass on a passing tray, the motion smooth but laced with finality. "He's fine without me. You know it, and so do I."

She turned on her heel, the hem of her gown sweeping behind her as she walked away. They didn't follow—not yet. Bruce and Dick exchanged a glance, silently agreeing to let her have a moment before pressing further.

Later that night, they found her in an apartment.

The suite Aubrey occupied was as sleek and luxurious as the rest of Dubai. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the sparkling city below, the view breathtakingly serene. Inside, however, the air was heavy with tension.

Aubrey stood by the windows, her arms crossed as she gazed out at the skyline. Her red gown had been exchanged for a long black silk robe, her short hair tousled from where she'd run her fingers through it.

"You could've just called," she said without turning around.

Bruce's footsteps were measured as he entered, his voice calm but firm. "You wouldn't have answered."

Dick lingered near the doorway, watching her closely. "Why did you leave?" he asked, his tone gentler.

She finally turned to face them, her expression tired. "I left because Jason deserves better than me."

Bruce's gaze didn't waver. "That's not your call to make."

"Yes, it is," she shot back, her voice cracking slightly. "You know what I am, Bruce. What I've done. I'm not someone who brings light into people's lives—I destroy everything I touch."

Dick stepped forward. "That's not true. He—"

"HE doesn't need me," she interrupted again, her voice rising. "I can't—" She stopped, closing her eyes and exhaling shakily. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "I can't let him drown because of me. He's better off."

Bruce crossed his arms, his voice steady. "Running doesn't solve anything. You know that."

Aubrey let out a bitter laugh. "This isn't running. This is protecting him. The kind of protection I wish someone had given me."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling heavily between them.

Dick's phone buzzed, breaking the tension. He pulled it from his pocket, his brows furrowing as he read the message.

"It's Addi," he said, his voice suddenly urgent. "She's out in the desert. Says she's being ambushed."

Aubrey's eyes widened. The glass of wine she'd been holding slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor.

"Where?" she demanded, already moving toward the door.

Dick rattled off the coordinates, but Aubrey was already gone, her black robe whipping behind her as she launched herself into the night.