Damian knew exactly how many rules he was breaking.

That was the problem—he’d counted them. Replayed Alfred’s warnings. Heard his father’s disappointment sharpen every no into something heavier. He understood the risks. He always did.

And still.

He waited on the edge of the park as dusk settled in, hood up, posture tight with the kind of defiance that only came from choosing something after being told not to. This wasn’t recklessness. This was deliberate.

“She’s not a liability,” Damian muttered to himself. “They just don’t understand.”

When he spotted her, his shoulders eased despite his best efforts. Annoying. Unacceptable. He told himself it was situational awareness—keeping eyes on someone the League would label a variable.

But the truth sat heavier.

Damian adjusted his gloves, gaze sharp even as his resolve wavered. He wasn’t sneaking out because he didn’t care what his family thought. He was sneaking out because, for once, he cared about something they couldn’t control.

He stepped forward, already rehearsing the argument he’d never say out loud.

He knew the consequences. He knew the lectures waiting at home. He knew better.

And yet—here he was. Again.

Because Damian had been trained to obey orders.

But no one had ever taught him what to do when his heart refused.