"Father?" Damian whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of his disbelief. His hand instinctively hovered near the gun tucked under his jacket, but he didn't reach for it. He just stood there, paralyzed by confusion.
The man in the doorway stepped forward, his expression calm, though there was a flash of concern in his eyes. "Damian," he said, his voice deep and steady, carrying a weight that was familiar yet foreign. "I see you've grown up well."
Damian had never expected to see his father here—of all places, and at all times. Not here, not now.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Damian demanded, stepping back a pace, still in shock. "I thought... I thought you wouldn't be involved in any of this."
Claire, who had been standing in stunned silence, moved forward slightly, her gaze flicking between the two men. She didn't understand what was happening, but the tension was palpable. The air felt heavy with unspoken questions.
