Fic Content Warning: violence, graphic violence, attempted murder, murder, body horror, physical and psychological torture, guns, knives, whump, angst, fluff, smut, smut and fluff, hurt/comfort
Description: Leon Kennedy is a special agent tasked with countering bioterrorism in the U.S. So when he’s assigned to protect a high-profile witness in what should be a routine mafia case, he’s more than a little confused. Kendra Mason is desperate to survive. Entering Witness Protection should be her safety—but her new bodyguard, Leon, knows next to nothing about her case. And neither of them realizes just how dangerous it really is. The case is far from simple. Enemies lie in every direction, and not even Leon’s own organization can be trusted. Betrayal lurks around every corner. The one thing he is sure of? He must keep Kendra alive. And he can’t let her fall in the wrong hands.
Chapter Index: Each chapter marked with a relevant content warning.
Level 1 - wholesome/fluff
Level 2 - fluff/light angst
Level 3 - fluff and angst
Level 4 - fluff/heavy angst, violence, hurt/comfort
Level 5 - angst/graphic violence, significant trigger warning
Level 6 - heavy angst, whump, graphic violence, significant trigger warning, hurt/comfort
Level 7 - whump, hurt, violence, hurt/comfort
Level 8 - NSFW smut
Level 9 - extreme violence, whump, hurt/comfort, murder, death
Level 10 - extreme violence, hurt/no comfort, graphic description of injury, death, dead bodies, murder, attempted murder, heavy trigger warning, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
Summary: 7,365 words // angst, light fluff, comfort
Kendra
September 25, 2005 — Sunday
"How long does it take to change?" Leon complained from the hall, his knuckles tapping a rhythm against the bulkhead.
"I didn't like the last pants. They weren't comfortable enough." I pulled the baggy pants over my hips, looking at myself in the small mirror inside the wardrobe. It was hard to visualize if I looked okay inside such a small piece of glass.
"At this point, I think you should just wear the wet pajama pants." He grumbled through the door.
I huffed, angling my head down so I could at least see my shirt. It showed a bit too much cleavage for my liking, so I pulled it up. Still, I couldn't see my legs in the mirror. At the very least, the harem pants I had opted for were infinitely more comfortable than the jeans.
Exasperated, I turned for the door and yanked it open. "How do I look?" I asked, opening my arms.
He stepped back, slightly startled by my sudden appearance, but his gaze washed over me. I didn't miss the slight color that found his cheeks or the way he fought to keep his gaze on my face.
"Great." His voice cracked. He looked away, clearing his throat. "Uh, it's cold, though. You might want a jacket."
My hands found my hips, slightly annoyed that I needed to find another piece of clothing to wear. Still, I turned my back on him and crossed over to the wardrobe. He followed after me this time, clearly fed up with the hall. He stood just over my shoulder—the perfect angle to see his face in the mirror.
I rifled through sweaters and jackets, clicking my tongue with each rejection.
"Why don't you wear the one you had on earlier?" He asked, tilting his head. Our eyes met in the mirror.
"I don't think Princess pink goes with this outfit." I snorted.
"I like the pink." He remarked casually. Like it meant nothing. Then his gaze went to the desk.
"Is that their new home?"
Confused, I followed his eyes to find the dozen or so paper cranes that I had lined up in an orderly fashion. I nodded. "Probably the safest place for them. Wouldn't want them getting wet."
He gave a breathy laugh. "Even if they did, I'm sure Mouse wouldn't mind making you more."
A soft smile betrayed me and I looked at him over my shoulder. "Yeah, but what kind of origami mother would I be if I let his hard work get ruined?"
Exhaling, he mumbled something under his breath.
"Hm?" I turned to face him.
"Nothing." His lips twitched, then he stepped closer.
The scent of him washed over me and I went still as his arm reached past my head. The muscle flexed as he pushed hangers to the side. Some needy part of myself wanted to touch him. To press myself into his chest. Or worse.
He stepped back before I could, pulling a jacket into view. "How about this one?"
I glanced at it once and gave him a teasing look. "That one's not mine."
"Yeah, but none of yours are warm enough." His index finger prodded the opening of the jacket, showing off the inside. "Mine has a wool lining."
"Protecting me from the cold now?" I teased, stepping into the jacket and slipping my arms into the sleeves.
His fingers grazed the back of my neck as he pulled my curls loose from the collar. "The correct response is thank you."
With a downward smile, I turned back around to face him, staying close. Closer than he expected. He went suddenly still.
Pushing onto my toes, I pecked a small kiss to the tip of his nose. "Thank you."
That disarmed him completely. Whatever snarky comeback he had prepared died on his lips.
I stepped away from him, and something flickered in his eyes. Something that almost looked like disappointment. I thought he might reach out for me. Pull me back in. Or maybe even ask me not to go just yet.
Instead, he cleared his throat and turned away, like he couldn't trust himself to keep looking at me.
My gaze returned to the mirror. "You have good taste. I think this might actually go with this outfit."
He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. "It's like I said when we met. Every sweater I own is perfectly in style."
I turned on my heel, glancing down at his bare arms. My eyes lingered a little too long, heat rising up the back of my neck. "What jacket are you gonna wear?"
A deep hum made my stomach flip. Again, he reached past me, pinning me between him and the wardrobe. His bicep grazed my ear, and a sudden wave of overwhelming need washed over me. Need to close the distance. Need to touch him. Need for him to touch me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I took a step back, desperate to create space before I did something embarrassing. But my boot caught on the edge of the wardrobe door and I stumbled sideways.
Leon caught me by the waist, tugging my upright before anything disastrous could happen.
"Careful." He murmured.
For a split second, my gaze landed on his lips. Then reality hit, mortified with myself. Only then did I realize my hands were on his chest. I pushed away from him and he released me, watching my every step as I backed away toward the door.
"You know, your eyes work better if you point them in the direction you're walking." The smallest smirk lifted the corner of his lips.
Right. Why was I even staring at him? Shouldn't I be looking away?
My hand closed around the doorknob, opening the door wider. Giving myself something else to look at. The hall. The empty boring hall.
It was significantly less distracting than he was.
The sound of a hanger clicking against the bar almost made me turn around. I kept my feet stubbornly planted toward the hall, pretending to find interest with the jacket pockets as Leon shrugged on a jacket of his own.
Cold steel shocked the tips of my fingers. Grateful for the distraction, I pulled the object into the open.
"Why do you have a knife in here?" I asked, turning it every which way. It was sheathed, but still dangerously big. At least six inches.
He reached over my shoulder, snatching it from my hand. "I think you'd be more surprised if you found any of my clothes without a weapon."
I hummed. "Sometimes I forget you're a walking threat."
"Because you know I would never hurt you." He shrugged. "Everyone else? Fair game."
My gaze fell on his hands. Hands that had been all over me two nights ago. Intrusive memories of us brought my mind to a screeching halt.
Something wildly inappropriate threatened to leave my lips. Something I swallowed down immediately. Heat burned my cheeks and I forced my gaze back on the hall.
"You ready to go upstairs?" I said instead.
"Yeah. Just one more thing." He mumbled.
I kept my back to him, stepping toward the hall. "What's that?"
He said nothing.
My fingers worried the hem of the jacket, finding the zipper and trying to slip the teeth into the slider.
"Kendra."
"Hm?" I tossed a look toward my shoulder, careful not to catch sight of him.
A calloused hand closed around my wrist, gently turning me around. I was like putty in his hands, allowing him to move me. He reached for the jacket, taking the zipper from my grasp and threading it into the slider with ease. I avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes on his chest as he pulled the zipper up.
Silently, he straightened the collar around my throat. My lips parted, meaning to thank him, but words failed me.
Without warning, his fingers caught my chin—and then his lips were on mine.
I kissed him back without hesitation. Giving in so enthusiastically that he laughed against my mouth.
Two steady arms slipped around my waist, anchoring me against him. His thumb brushed the center of my back, the gentlest caress.
Just as my fingers found purchase on his arms, he drew back. Only an inch.
"Sorry," he mumbled softly, breath warming my skin. "I don't—" a breath, "I don't know why I..."
"I do." I said breathlessly, burying my hands in his hair and pulling him down into me. Our lips met again and I stole as many kisses as he would allow me.
He sighed into my mouth, hands finding my hips and fingers digging into my skin. He gave me another kiss. And then a second one. Fevered and full of longing. Two hips pressed against mine, pinning me against the door.
"Fuck," his hold on me tightened, and maybe some part of me was going insane because I could almost feel the battle he was having with himself.
He stepped away so suddenly that I nearly lost my balance, stumbling forward.
"We should go upstairs." He panted, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me.
My fingers brushed my lips, a small tremble betraying me. "Right." I stuttered. "Wouldn't want... anyone to see that." Overwhelmed, I raked my fingers through my hair, trying to shake off whatever this was that lingered in my nervous system.
I turned for the door. Made it only two steps. Something made me turn back around. Abrupt and desperate to know.
"What was that?"
Taken aback, he gestured vaguely. "...a kiss."
My hand found my lips again. Like I could still feel him there. "No. What did it mean?"
He let out a breath. "You want to have this conversation now?"
I turned back around quickly, shaking my head. "No. I don't."
And then I was gone, hurrying down the hall. Refusing to turn back again. His footsteps followed after me, but he said nothing. No argument. No pushing.
I was grateful for that. Whatever honesty he was willing to offer me wasn't something I could hear right now. I wasn't entirely sure why I had even asked.
Maybe I already knew the answer. Maybe we both did.
But with everything else going on, this not-so-complicated relationship I had with him wasn't a priority. People were dying. From a virus that my own family had created. Using data obtained through testing on me. And now, I was the only one who could end this.
Is that why I was doing this? Was I using him to distract myself? Escaping from this nightmare by clinging to whatever bit of relief he could offer me?
We hardly knew each other. Seven weeks. Less than two months. Even though we spent every moment right beside each other, that didn't suddenly make this any less insane.
It was just the proximity. Nothing more. Seven weeks was nothing. This feeling in the pit of my stomach was manufactured. It wasn't real. Couldn't be.
I reached the upper deck in silence, not at all remembering the walk here. The moment I stepped into the floodlight, drunken jeers echoed over the deck, making me jump.
Leon found my side, just as silent as I was.
"There she is!" Bishop yelled, getting up so fast that he stumbled sideways. Rook caught him, smacking him in the back of the head after putting the lieutenant back on two feet.
We crossed over to the crew, noting the folding chairs that had been set up around a metal fire pit. A large flame crackled in the center of the group, large enough that four people could roast marshmallows over the heat.
Bishop grinned widely, a beer in hand as he staggered toward me. Without warning, he wrapped me in a tight hug. "You came!" He slurred.
I laughed awkwardly, patting him on the back. "Yeah. You good?"
He pulled away, nodding. "I am now! We saved you some marshmallows."
From a few feet away, Mouse lifted a plastic bag, proving Bishop correct.
"They were gonna eat all of them." Bishop continued. "But I told them you would be here."
I laughed. "How did you know?"
He shrugged, throwing an arm around my shoulder and guiding me toward the fire. "I could tell you were feeling better."
I didn't respond, but I let him lead me toward a chair. He pushed me down into it, a little more rough than he usually was with me.
Jill kicked him in the thigh. "Careful. She's not one of you idiots."
"It's okay." I assured her, smiling.
Bishop moved to sit next to me, but Leon slid into the chair faster than he could. Without missing a beat, the lieutenant swiveled and sat across from me instead. Unbothered.
I fought hard to keep my attention on the conversation.
Jill shifted in her chair, pulling her marshmallow from the flame. "Everything alright? You look..." she tilted her head at me. "Nervous."
Wiping my hands on my pants, I tried to calm my nerves. "Yeah. It's just... this is... nice."
"The fire?" She smooshed the marshmallow between two crackers.
Belonging. Being wanted.
I couldn't say that, though.
"Being part of the crew." I settled on instead. Even that felt loaded.
Before she could respond, Leon leaned forward. "Are you drinking, too?" He looked to the whiskey glass in her hand.
She snorted. "It's actually just apple juice. I don't drink on the job."
"Only the idiots drink." Lex answered. It was the first thing he'd said around me in almost a day. I almost didn't notice him standing beside the fire.
"Funny." Jill leaned back, examining her s'more. "I consider you one of the idiots."
"You don't drink on the job?" I asked Lex. "Or you don't drink at all?"
Surprise flickered on his face. Like he hadn't expected me to speak to him. It took him a moment to recover.
"Alcohol isn't my friend." He finally answered.
Jill made a sound. "That's an understatement."
Lex glared at her. "You've only seen me drunk once."
"One time too many." She muttered, biting into the cracker.
"Would you like a drink, Miss Kendra?" Mouse asked, lifting a bottle of brandy.
"Do you have any more apple juice?" I asked.
At that, Owen pushed off the bulwark. "I've got somethin' better. How 'bout some hot cider? Keep ya warm."
Wraith snickered, tilting her head back over the guard rail. The ocean breeze caught the long strands of her black hair. "Grab me a glass too, my love?"
The term of endearment was startling. She was clearly intoxicated, but it was the first time I'd heard either of them call the other anything but their callsigns.
Owen gave her a curt nod. "Anythin' for you. Is that all ya want?"
She looked back up at him, a flirtatious little smirk on her lips. "Ask me again at curfew."
I averted my gaze, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on something I shouldn't be watching.
Jill leaned closer to me. "Guess I'm getting the room to myself tonight."
I met her eyes, noticing for the first time that they were blue. I'd been on this ship for a week now. That was the first time she'd spoken to me so casually. Like we were friends. Not an officer and an asset. Friends.
I tried to remain equally as casual. "So, why doesn't Wraith sleep in the Captain's quarters? They're married, aren't they?"
Jill smiled. "I think they both just like to try to keep their job and their marriage separate."
My eyes went to the fire. "So... it's not frowned upon? Personal relationships like that. In the BSAA."
She sank her teeth into the s'more, crumbs falling to the ground. Only after she finished chewing did she give me a shrug. "I think the BSAA has bigger things to worry about."
Bishop leaned forward. "Why? Thinking about joining the BSAA?"
My gaze went to Leon. Briefly. I frowned and reached for the marshmallows, taking one and absently handing it to Leon. Joining the BSAA wasn't something I had considered an option.
Jill grabbed the empty graham cracker box and threw it at the lieutenant. "Don't be a dipshit. Even if she was thinking of joining, she wouldn't be stupid enough to entertain you."
Bishop grinned widely, tossing the box into the fire. "Oh I'm well aware who Kendra would rather entertain."
Leon cleared his throat. "Can I have that?" He pointed to the sleeve of crackers on Jill's lap.
Either oblivious or intentionally stoic, Jill grabbed the crackers and quietly handed them over. Leon reached behind my back, arm grazing my shoulders. The tips of my ears burned at the contact.
"So, why exactly would Kendra join the BSAA?" Rook chimed in. "I mean, no offense," he looked directly at me, "but I don't exactly get the feeling you like us."
I winced at that. "Why would you say that?"
"You spend most of your time as far away from us as possible." Bishop hiccuped.
"Don't take that personally." Leon grumbled, spearing the marshmallow on a stick. "She was like that the first week with me."
Rook hummed. "So, you're usually pretty standoffish."
"What changed?" Bishop cocked his head.
I scratched at my jeans. "He gave me a reason to trust him, I guess."
"You guess?" Jill sounded almost amused.
I rubbed my thumb over my knuckles. "Leon's right. It's nothing personal."
Bishop laughed. "What did he do? To earn your trust?" He put up his hands defensively. "Saved you? Protected you? I think we've done the same. Haven't we?"
"You don't get it." I shook my head. "I trusted Moroe. He was my friend. And he tried to kill me. I lost everything because of him. My family. My home. My freedom. My sense of safety."
I forced myself to stop, steadying my breath. "I can't be so flippant with my trust. I've known you for a week. So no. It's not personal."
Everyone went silent. Even the alcohol wasn't enough to stupefy Bishop now.
Jill turned to me slowly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure." I leaned back in the chair.
"You've known Leon a little longer than Moroe. But you trust him without question. How can you be sure? That he's not exactly like Moroe?"
I tipped my head back, setting it against the backrest. "I wasn't sure. Not at first."
Leon didn't react to that. Like he already knew the answer.
The stars above me winked in the darkness. Twinkling like the distant suns might actually be staring back.
"I saw my brother die." The words tumbled out of me abruptly. "That man was looking for me. And I ran. I guess that's what I'm good at."
No one dared to interrupt me now.
"So, when Delacroix chased down my car and drove me off the highway... I knew he was going to kill me. I knew why. I was a witness. A spy that had taken something I shouldn't have."
I closed my eyes, remembering the day I first met Leon. That feeling of dread that pooled in my stomach.
"When I woke up under the rubble of a mafia safe house, I was terrified. Because I realized that... if they wanted me dead, I would be. And then this man shows up. He pulls me out. Rescues me. And I think... how convenient that is. How easy."
Finally, I opened my eyes, looking to Leon first. His face was blank. All hint of emotion carefully tucked away.
"And then I find out he's USSTRATCOM. The same agency Moroe was employed with. The same agency that contracted me. And I thought: this can't be a coincidence."
I swallowed hard, bile burning my throat. "And I was terrified. Because now... I was trapped in this house with this stranger. And if he found out... if he knew who I was. What I had done? He would kill me. He could kill me. I had watched him do it. I knew exactly what he was capable of."
Leon didn't reach for me. Didn't touch me. He remained deathly still now. Like he was afraid if he moved, I might run.
"So I stayed in my room.” I continued. “And I stayed very quiet. And I tried not to give him a reason to dig any deeper."
"But I did." Leon whispered. "And you got mad at me."
There was subtle realization on his face. Like I had handed him missing puzzle pieces.
I nodded. "I was scared. And reckless." My fingers tapped a rhythm against the armrest. "I practically spoon fed you everything you needed so you would arrive at the same conclusion I had. Maybe because I needed to know. Maybe because I couldn't take that not knowing anymore. I don't really know why."
"That kind of stress eats at you." Jill said gently.
Leon exhaled. "You didn't want to wait. If you pointed me in the right direction, that was more predictable."
"Yeah." I ran a hand through my hair. "I guess. Maybe I just wanted you to get it over with."
I averted my gaze again. "I heard you. Every time you came by my room to check on me. I woke up every time I heard your footsteps. Counted how long you would stand in the doorway. Waited for you to walk into the room. I didn't have a weapon. Didn't know what I would do whenever you decided to do it. I knew that I wouldn't be able to fight you off."
A small laugh escaped me. "Which is funny. Because I kept telling myself... I hope he kills me while I'm asleep. So I won't be scared. So I won't feel it. But then... my body never really seemed to fall asleep."
"And now you won't sleep unless he's nearby." Bishop said it casually. Unfiltered. A drunken observation.
My head snapped toward him.
He blinked slowly. "What?"
"Bishop." Jill sighed, sounding exhausted.
"What?" he repeated, gesturing with his beer. "I'm just sayin'. She sleeps fine now."
Heat crawled up my neck. I needed to say something. Rebut. Argue.
My eyes found Leon. Again. Something I couldn't seem to stop myself from doing.
"For good reason. Leon took a bullet for me." The explanation left me before I could think about it. "Before he knew what was going on."
Leon looked away from me.
"No one had told him why he was really protecting me. And when he asked me for the truth, I wouldn't tell him." I exhaled. "And then his own people showed up to kill me. And he could have believed them. He could have let them kill me. But he didn't. He fought for me. Even when he didn't have all the answers."
The next person to speak wasn't Jill or Bishop. It was Lex. Which was almost startling.
"So, that explains it then. He did what we couldn't."
Jill raised a brow.
Lex sighed. "We didn't blindly trust her. Come on, don't give me that look."
"Not giving a look." Jill muttered, tipping her glass to her lips.
"You are." He shook his head, kicking his leg up against the wall. "You said it yourself when she first got here. We didn't know enough about her. It looked suspicious. You and I questioned her for hours—what? A week after she had been tortured?"
Jill postured. "I have to keep my people safe. I don't have the luxury of being sensitive when it comes to keeping this crew alive."
"I'm not arguing that." Lex said gently. "And no one blames you. I'm just saying... it makes sense why Kendra would default back to him and not us."
Jill avoided my eye. "What are you, a therapist now?"
I leaned a fraction closer to Leon. "You guys were just doing your jobs. I get it."
Lex shrugged. "Didn't make it any less scary for you, did it?"
"I wasn't scared."
"Okay. Intimidated."
"That's the same thing."
Lex tilted his head. "Whatever you want to call it. It didn't exactly help build a rapport."
From beside me, Leon leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "So, what? You feel bad?"
"Things could have been handled better." He mumbled, looking away.
Suddenly, Jill leaned forward and smacked Bishop in the arm. "Would you knock it off? It's melting into the fire."
Somehow, I hadn't noticed Bishop holding a charred marshmallow over the flame. He flinched away from her attack, grinning as he lifted the stick out of the fire.
"It's perfect." He stared up at the blackened abomination, a gleeful look in his eye.
"It's gonna taste like ash." Wraith pointed out, smirking from the railing.
"No, it'll taste delicious." He argued.
The marshmallow chose that moment to slide off the stick—and drop directly into the fire.
Bishop frowned. "Well, now it'll probably taste like ash." He used the stick to try to fish it off the log.
"Do not fucking eat that." Wraith chastised him, stepping into the circle and snatching the stick from his hand.
"There's no way you think a cremated marshmallow actually tastes good." Rook shook his head. "Everyone knows toasting it until it's golden is the way to go."
"Yeah if you're a coward." Bishop snorted, reaching for another marshmallow.
Rook snatched the bag. "No. You don't get anymore. Save some for Kendra."
"I was the only one doing that!" Bishop turned and reached for the bag, trying to snatch it back. "I saved six. Do you really think she's going to eat six?"
Rook held it out of reach, looking over at me. "Do you want six s'mores?"
"I only need one. It's fine." I tried to hide my smile.
"This idiot has already had like four." Rook argued. "He doesn't need five more."
"He'd probably just incinerate them anyway." Leon kept his eyes on his own marshmallow, pretending not to be amused.
"Give them to me." Lex snatched the bag away from Rook, reaching for one immediately.
"Hey!" Bishop got up from his chair. "Those are for her!"
"She doesn't mind." Lex tossed the bag back to Rook. "Right, Junie?"
Suddenly, all laughter ceased, everyone going still. Even Lex froze, his smile vanishing.
"Kendra." He corrected himself quickly.
Silence. The fire crackled in the awkwardness.
"Who's Junie?" I tried to laugh it off.
Lex straightened, throwing the marshmallow at Bishop. "You know what... I think I'm gonna have a drink after all."
Everyone watched as he turned away. No one said a word when he ducked down the stairs. Waves crashed against the hull of the ship, filling the silence.
I looked to Jill, far more gentle when I again asked, "who's Junie?"
She pressed her glass to her lips. "Story for another time." Then she finished her drink.
Some part of me wanted to argue. Before I could, heavy footsteps echoed from the direction Lex had disappeared into. I looked to the stairs in time to see Owen step on the deck, two glasses of cider in hand.
He went to Wraith first, handing over the glass and mumbling something only she could hear. She turned her back to the crew, whispering something and patting him gently on the shoulder.
A moment later, Owen crossed over to me.
"Here you go, kiddo." He pressed the cider into my hand. The glass warmed my hand instantly. "Sorry it took so long."
"Good things take time." I assured him, offering my kindest smile.
"Aye. They do." The orange wires of his beard hid his lips, but I could tell he smiled anyway.
Then his gaze found Leon. "Somethin' came up, actually."
Leon sat up, snapping to attention. "What happened?"
"We had a message come through." He lowered himself into the chair beside Leon. "On comms. The U.S. army has a helicopter en route from a navy vessel. They've been tryin' to catch up to us. Stoppin' at every vessel they find."
"Is it Piers?" He asked immediately.
"I think so." Owen tugged at his beard in thought.
"What did they say? Is everything okay?"
The Captain folded his arms, a small smirk lifting his lips. "They're fine. Said they're delivering something."
With a breathy laugh, Leon relaxed back into his chair. "Didn't know the U.S. army acted as FedEx."
"What could they possibly be delivering?" Jill asked.
"Information." I mumbled, mostly to myself. I thought no one had heard, but both Owen and Jill looked at me.
"Must be." Owen agreed. "They wanted me to confirm if both of ya were still on the ship."
"Both of us?"
"You and Leon."
Leon snorted. "What, like we just decided to take a leisure swim back to shore?"
Owen suppressed a laugh. "A lot of people are lookin' for both of ya. I'm surprised we haven't gotten a visit from the BSAA's Air Force yet."
"How far out?" Jill interjected.
"An hour. Maybe less." Owen looked out at the ocean, as if he were expecting the helicopter to appear right then and there.
"A bit late for a visit." Rook noted.
Owen looked up at him. "It is. So they'll be stayin' with us. A day. Maybe two. Until the navy can refuel their helicopter. And you lot will be respectful and cordial. I don't want any of ya pickin' any fights." He kept his gaze on Rook when he said that.
Rook lifted his hands defensively. "I have never been an asshole... without reason." An almost smile.
Bishop barked with laughter, throwing his head back obnoxiously. "You're a goddamn liar!"
Rook smacked him upside the head, nearly toppling the Lieutenant from his chair.
"Hey!" Bishop turned around, punching Rook in the arm.
"Ow, you fucker," Rook shoved his head down. "You hit harder when you're drunk."
Bishop flailed, reaching back and trying to land a hit.
"Knock it off." Wraith and Jill said at the same time.
Leon chuckled softly beside me. Only loud enough for me to hear. I purposefully kept my gaze off of him.
He reached over me, shoulder nearly bumping my chest. I tilted back, giving him space to grab the chocolate he was reaching for. When he moved back to his side, his elbow bumped my knee. He rubbed it immediately, like he had actually hurt me.
"Sorry," he mumbled quietly.
All I could do was nod, suddenly unable to speak.
His attention returned to the others, commenting on something Rook said. Something I had missed.
The crew laughed at whatever joke he made.
I smiled anyway, despite having no idea what anyone had said.
My attention had drifted again. Back to him. Every time I managed to drag my thoughts elsewhere, they circled back.
The way he sat. The way he laughed. The way he absentmindedly rolled the stick between his fingers. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous.
And no matter how hard I fought to focus my gaze onto anything else—somehow, it would always come back to him. As if my eyes were made to find him.
I was on my feet. Abrupt and careless. Not entirely sure why I was even standing. All eyes turned to me, questioning and confused.
I rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm gonna..."
What? What was I going to do? What was I even doing?
"I need to use the bathroom." I mumbled, ducking my head and practically running toward the lower deck.
Their chatter followed me. Lex brushed past me on the staircase, saying nothing as he returned to the upper deck. My legs kept moving. Further. Past the shower and bunks. Down the corridor. Past the kitchen and mess room. Farther than I had explored before.
I found a staircase I'd never encountered before. Considered for the briefest moment turning around. Ignoring the rational side of my brain, I continued down the stairs anyway.
Somehow, it hadn't occurred to me that there might be anything else below the lower deck. Now, all I wanted to know was what was down here. Exploring was a safer thing to focus on.
At the bottom of the stairs, I was stopped by a large metal door. I half expected it to be locked, but when I pushed on the handle, it gave under my weight and scraped open.
I stumbled into the room, taking it in.
It was massive. Larger than anything else I'd seen on the ship so far. Every wall was lined with something. Guns. Ammo. Explosives. Gear. And in the center of the room? Lifeboats, shrink-wrapped pallets, and forklifts. It hardly filled the space. There was enough room down here to fit an aircraft.
Every one of my footsteps echoed through the room. The only sound aside from the waves crashing against the walls around me. The room swallowed everything else. I could no longer hear the chatter on the upper deck. Couldn't hear their laughter or drunken jokes. It was nothing but quiet. Calm.
It was difficult to explain why I didn't turn around and leave. I lowered myself to the ground instead, sitting alone on the floor and staring up at the weaponry around me. Wondering how long I could stay down here before someone came to find me.
Before Leon came to find me. Because he always did. Because if I was missing for too long, he would worry. Which was the last thing I wanted to do to him.
Five minutes. That's how much time I would give myself. And then I would go back up. Somewhere Leon could find me if he came looking.
There was only one problem: there was no way to tell time down here. No clocks or watches. So I'd have to make my best guess.
I closed my eyes, listening to the ringing silence. Enjoying it a little too much. A knot loosened in my chest. Realizing that, for the first time in nearly eight weeks, I didn't have someone attached to my hip. No one knew where I was.
My next thought made guilt bloom in my stomach. The isolation was relieving. Not because Leon was overbearing or difficult to be around. Just because... privacy was a luxury I didn't have anymore. Through no fault of his own. He was just doing his job.
And I had been very good. Listened to everything he told me. Didn't complain. Didn't make his job difficult.
So maybe... it was okay to enjoy these five minutes.
I dropped onto my back, laying on the floor without a care in the world. Staring at the ceiling that seemed a mile high. Losing myself to thought.
Thinking about him. Even when I tried not to.
For weeks, I had convinced myself this was infatuation born from proximity. And maybe in the beginning it was. But it was getting harder to deny. Especially now that we had slept together. Something we still hadn't talked about.
Which might have been my fault. I'd been so shut down the last two days. And Leon, being Leon, would never force me to have an uncomfortable conversation when I couldn't even get myself out of bed. No matter how much he might want answers. It wasn't his way.
He'd asked earlier if I wanted to have that conversation now. And I'd told him no. Because deep down, I think I already know what his answer would be. But I didn't know what mine would be.
I was attracted to him. That goes without question. But attraction wasn't the issue. Not entirely. It was this feeling. Whatever it was, it was tangled and messy and uncertain.
Do I love him? Yes. But there were so many categories of love and I wasn't sure which one he fell into.
I counted them in my head, defining each from memory. Storge, Philia, Eros. Familial, platonic, and romantic. Agape, Pragma, Ludus. Universal, enduring, playful.
Love was never something I held in reservation. I loved Angela. Loved Hayden. Loved Diana and Rob. I even loved Avery, which I could confidently say was platonic. That same confidence wasn't present with Leon.
It would be easy to categorize it as romantic simply because we'd been intimate. But if there was one thing I'd had painful lessons in, it was that sex didn't mean someone inherently loved you.
Even if we did. Even if this was that... what could we even do with it? We could love each other as much as we wanted. It wouldn't change anything. Strategic Command would still take him from me. The system would still take me from him. There was no other way this would end.
That wasn't even the worst of it. If we somehow weren't separated after all of this, there was a more terrible reality.
My life would forever be this. Viruses. Immunity. Regeneration. Labs and wars and politics. That was what I was destined for. Every moment. From the second Moroe injected me with that syringe, that was the forced trajectory.
This was Leon's job. But at the end of the day, he could go home. He could escape it for a few hours every day. But if I were a part of his life? He never would.
He deserved peace from this. He'd earned it.
So I could love him. Maybe. But from afar. For him, I could. I was good at that. Loving. Not being loved. That was who I was. Always, at the end of it all. No matter what was done to me. I still loved Moroe despite what he'd done. Still loved my biological parents regardless of the abuse and betrayal.
That's who I was. That's who I was. That's who I was.
"I don't think you're supposed to be down here."
I jumped, looking up toward the door immediately. Leon stood at the bottom step just outside the hangar, head tilted gently. A soft smile lingered on his lips.
I scrambled upright, brushing my curls from my face. "I'm sorry. I was just about to go back up. I didn't want you to worry about me—"
He held up a hand. "You're good. I wasn't worried." A pause. "Well, not too much. You were easy enough to find."
A breathless laugh escaped me. "How did you know I was down here?"
Slowly, he stepped further into the room, crossing his arms. "Well, you weren't in the bathroom. And your room was empty. I checked the wardrobe to be sure." A little smirk found his face at that. Pleased with himself.
"So we're joking about that now?" I laughed lightly, relaxing a little.
He watched me, unable to force his smile downward. Then he glanced to the door. "You want me to go? Seemed like you were having a moment."
I exhaled sharply, leaning back on my forearms. "No. It's okay. Probably better I don't think right now."
He didn't respond to that. Not at first. Something was happening behind those eyes. Thoughtful and careful. Without a word, he crossed over to me and slowly sat down beside me on the floor.
I watched him. Waiting for him to ask. Waiting for him to try to comfort me. He could always tell when something was wrong.
His head fell backward, eyes finding the ceiling. "It's quiet down here."
I almost laughed, not expecting something so simple and pointless. Relieved by it.
"Yeah. It is. It's nice."
He nodded, but said nothing. We listened to the ocean crashing against the hull. A steady rhythm. Syncing with the sway of the ship.
My eyes found him. This time, he caught me staring.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For today.”
His brow twitched. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“You know. Distracting me. Being ridiculous and… playful. It was nice. It helped.”
He hummed. “Sure. But, I mean, I was serious.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah? The bunny socks?”
“They were a hazard.”
“Pushing Bishop?”
“He compromised the mission.”
“Carrying me?”
He smirked. “You’re clumsy. Because of the socks.”
“Right, right. My mistake. How dare I accuse you of something so terrible.”
“You’re forgiven.” He said flatly.
Snickering, I turned my gaze on something else. The wall. The weapons. The gear. Pretending to study them.
Leon shifted. For a second, I thought he might reach for me. Brush his fingers across my shoulder like he always did when he wanted me to look at him. This time, he didn’t. He kept his hands firmly planted to the floor.
“Is it okay… if we talk about something?”
His tone was husky. I knew that tone. The lightness was gone. I didn’t dare laugh at him.
“I thought we were talking?”
He let out a breath. “No. I mean… you said something earlier. And it—I don’t… want to pretend it wasn’t said.”
I drew my legs into my chest, wrapping an arm around my knees. “Okay.”
His jaw tightened, eyes tracking my every move. He draped an arm over his own knee, trying to appear relaxed. Failing.
“I know there was a time where you didn’t trust me.” The words were gentle. “That first week we were together.”
I knew exactly what he was going to talk about now. Immediately, I shook my head. “Don’t.”
He sighed. “I scared you. More than I thought I did.” A frustrated laugh. “You’re really good at that. Hiding whatever you’re feeling. It’s annoying.”
I laughed warily. “Sorry.”
“I get it. I mean, I know why you do it.” He shrugged, looking down at the space between our hands. “I like to pretend I can read you. But I didn’t know. About that.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“I know.” He paused, then our eyes met. “I’m sorry. That I was practically terrorizing you.”
“You weren’t.”
“Not on purpose.” He tipped his head back. “But I… I feel bad. About scaring you like that.”
“You shouldn’t.” I held his gaze. “That fear didn’t even have anything to do with you. I mean, all you had done for me at that time was help me. Save me. Protect me. What else could you have done?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed at his knuckles. “Something. There had to be something else I could have done.”
The words made my heart ache. With caution, I scooted closer to him. He remained still. Didn’t pull away even when I leaned over. Even when I pressed myself into his side.
“I’m sorry I told you that.” I breathed the words quietly. “That was cruel.”
“Cruel.” He echoed with a disbelieving laugh. His hand found the back of my head, tender as he threaded his fingers through my hair. “You’re a lot of things. But cruel is not one of them.”
“I shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t necessary.”
“It was. It was the truth.”
I let out a breath. “Not every truth needs to be spoken.”
“Withholding honesty isn’t mercy.”
That stunned me into silence. I didn’t have a rebuttal. Not because his argument was objectively true. It wasn’t. But it was true for this conversation. And some awful part of me knew he was also talking about more than just this.
Maybe he wasn’t even just talking about me. My tendency to hide. Maybe he was even talking about himself. Because we were both guilty of the same sin.
It was why we were both still stuck in this limbo of uncertainty. Neither of us were brave enough to bridge the gap. To say what needed to be said.
Funny how we could face true horrors. Blood and death and torture. But an honest conversation was what we shied away from.
I sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always—”
“Yeah yeah,” I cut him off quickly. “I get it. Shut up.”
A breathy laugh warmed the crown of my head. “Yes, ma’am.”
From outside the ship, a new sound disrupted the ocean’s lullaby. Choppy. Loud.
A helicopter.
It was already here.
Leon looked toward the nearest porthole. “Guess that’s our cue to leave.”
I pressed my face into his neck. “One more minute.”
There was a pause. Then his other hand slipped around my waist, holding me against him.
Author's Note: sickeningly sweet fluff x canon Leon, you have been warned <3
>Chapter 37
Chapter 36:
Leon
September 25, 2005 — Sunday
The revelation was destabilizing for Kendra. She spent most of Saturday sleeping. I wanted to believe it was because she hadn't gotten much sleep. But when night came, and the ship was full of nothing but the sound of the waves, she slept through that too. I knew this because she stayed in my arms through the night. No nightmares. No restlessness. She was just still. Quiet.
Morning came. It took me a long time to convince her to get out of bed. She didn't leave the room until almost noon. She skipped breakfast just as she had skipped dinner. I took the initiative to make lunch. One of her favorite soups. Something she always ate no matter how sick or upset she was. But even that, all she did was nibble on a few spoonfuls. At the very least, she drank the broth. But she left the noodles and vegetables.
Bishop tried—and failed—to get her to play a card game.
Mouse asked her if he could teach her origami, but she declined his paper. For him, though, she rested her head on the couch and watched as he folded paper cranes. She wouldn't make her own, so he made them for her, balancing them around her on the cushion. Until a dozen of them seemed to stand watch.
Most everyone tried to help. Noticed she was absent even when she occupied the room. Even Jill tried to engage with her. Included her in conversations. Asked her innocent questions just to coax a response from her. Kendra would give her a smile that never reached her eyes. Nodded along. Mumbled a word or two. But she never fully engaged.
The only one who didn't push was Lex. It was clear he felt guilty for bringing this to her attention. So he kept his distance. Didn't speak to her. But he watched from afar, checking on her from across the room.
Owen did what he did best. He brought her hot chocolate. Even if she didn't always drink it.
The worst part was that they kept looking at me like they expected me to do something. But even if I did have some magic trick that could brighten her mood, part of me thought that she had earned a bit of reservation. It was better than her hiding out in her room all day. And she had spent a long time pretending like everything was fine. After the murder of her family and everything she had been through after that, her nervous system had to be shot.
So I stayed close. Refused to give her some bullshit speech. Allowed her to feel whatever it was she was feeling.
I remained on the couch now, playing cards with Bishop after Kendra had refused. She sat on the ground with her shoulder pressed against the couch. Her cheek rested on the cushion beside me, the crown of her head brushing my thigh.
The mess room was filled with chatter. Everyone having separate conversations.
Harbor got up from the door and stretched before crossing the room and settling in front of Kendra. He set his head in her lap and immediately went back to sleep. Kendra didn't move to pet him like she always did.
Bishop's eyes flicked toward her and he sighed. "Man, she's out again."
I set my cards in my lap, glancing down at her. She was hardly in a comfortable position. Still, she seemed to be dead asleep. As much as I wanted to move her—put her somewhere more comfortable—I instead grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders.
Bishop watched, laying a card on the coffee table, eyes tracking my every movement.
I picked up my cards, shuffling through them until I found one that would work and laid it down.
He nodded, like the card was actually interesting, and stared at his hand. "You two seem close."
"We are." I replied flatly. There was no point lying about it now.
He raised a brow. "Close like... me and Rook? Or close like Wraith and Owen?" His eyes flicked toward the married couple in the corner.
"I don't gossip." I nodded to his hand. "Pick a card."
Pulling one, he tossed it onto the table and leaned closer. "Didn't realize there was anything to gossip about."
"Drop it."
"Fine." He rested his forearm against the table edge. "Better question for you. What's your plan after we reach the UK?"
I threw down a card. "That doesn't concern you."
"Actually it does." He ran a hand through his hair. "If you take off—go back to the states—she's going to shut down completely."
Throwing a nod to the rest of the room, he leaned into the table. "She might tolerate us, but she doesn't trust us."
"She trusts you." I argued. "She wouldn't sleep in the same room as all of you if she didn't."
He shook his head. "Not like she trusts you."
I leaned back into the cushion. "Sure. But I never said I was leaving."
Bishop scoffed, setting his hand of cards face down on the table. "You sure about that? We heard about the message Piers had for you."
Our eyes locked.
He shook his head. "The President wants you back in the States. He doesn't want you dealing with international affairs."
"Actually," I threw my cards on the table. "Graham said my name was clear and I was free to return to my post. That's it. I wasn't given orders."
"So, you would leave if you were ordered to?"
The question pissed me off. But it also felt... terrifying. In a way that I couldn't say aloud. Because I realized in that moment that I didn't have an honest answer. Not yet. I could say I would disobey orders all I wanted. But if it came down to it... would I?
Silence stretched too long. Bishop waited patiently, gauging my reaction.
I straightened, exhaling sharply. "She's a U.S. citizen. Doesn't matter if this is BSAA business now. She's still one of us. Not one of you." A pause. "And I'm staying with her."
He didn't seem convinced. "That wasn't what I asked."
"If I was ordered to leave, she'd come with me." I crossed my arms. "The president wouldn't want her unprotected and out of his jurisdiction."
"You'd take her back? Even if that meant she could be killed?"
"I kept her safe. Without help from anyone else. If I had support from Graham, she'd be even safer."
He nodded. "Even if that meant she's taken into custody? Experimented on?"
I tilted my head. "Like what this crew did to her?"
The insult didn't even touch him. "Like what your government is doing to that Birkin girl."
My jaw tightened, fingers curling as I suppressed the urge to punch him.
He was either stupid or oblivious. "Would you really do the same thing to her that you let happen to that little girl?"
I surged to my feet, towering over him. It would have been easy to lash out. But I refrained.
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
With a bitter laugh, he got to his feet, only a few inches shorter than me but stepping forward all the same. "Be honest with yourself, Kennedy." Another spiteful laugh as he gestured to Kendra. "Or at least be honest with her."
"I am being honest with her." My hands flexed at my sides. "No one's ordering me to leave. The plan is still the same. I stay with her. She knows that."
Bishop's gaze flickered to Lex. Brief, but enough for me to notice. His attention returned to me. "Why didn't you leave when Piers told you your name was cleared?"
"What?"
"This is your job, right?" He stepped closer. "To counteract bioterrorism m."
"Right."
"So why didn't you go back to your own agency?"
"I was hired to protect her."
He threw up his hands. "Jesus Christ, Kennedy, why are you still denying it?"
"Denying what?"
Bishop side stepped me, moving toward Kendra. My body moved on instinct, blocking him from reaching her. He laughed like that proved his point. "You must think we're stupid."
"No, just you." I crossed my arms.
"Funny." He said flatly. "If you're going to be so careless around us, at least have the balls to admit what's going on."
"Why do you think it's any of your damn business?"
"Because you're treating this like it's temporary, bro." His face twisted into a scowl. "She has enough to worry about without you screwing her and walking away—"
I advanced on him, pressing my fist to his chest and driving him backward into the wall. "Watch your mouth, Lieutenant." I sneered the title at him.
"Kennedy. Enough." Jill called from the other side of the room.
I didn't look at her.
Bishop tilted his head. "Screwing her over." He corrected himself. "Why? What did you think I meant?"
"Break it up." Jill was closer now, almost right behind me.
I shoved Bishop roughly and stepped back, turning to look at her. "Might want to put a muzzle on this idiot." I muttered, shouldering past her.
The room had gone still, all chatter ceasing. Only Rook stood half way out of his chair, like he'd been on the brink of coming to Bishop's defense.
A blur of movement by the couch drew my attention. I looked over in time to see Kendra lifting her head from the cushion, yawning as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She blinked twice, lids heavy, before looking around the room.
"What's going on?" She croaked.
"The boys are being dumb." Wraith answered, getting up from her chair and crossing over to her.
Kendra looked up at her, quietly compliant as the older woman took her hand and coaxed her to her feet.
"Come on, sweet pea," her raspy voice carried through the awkwardness. "You want some tea? I have some chamomile hidden in my bunk."
Kendra nodded tiredly, oblivious as Wraith led her out of the mess hall. Harbor followed, shaking off like it might wake him up. The door shut behind them, leaving me alone with the rest of the crew.
Owen crossed his arms, a look of disappointment shared between me and Bishop. "Care to explain?"
I shifted, but said nothing.
Bishop straightened his shirt, stepping away from the wall. "Just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, sir." His tone came light, defusing the tension.
Owen sighed, looking back at me. "If you're gonna get physical, take it outside. The last thing Kendra needs is you two scarin' her."
"She's not fragile." Rook muttered, as if the conversation involved him.
Jill turned on him. "Shut up."
Owen pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know she can handle your bullshit." He looked between us. "But she shouldn't have to. Especially not right now."
"Got it." I answered shortly, for no other reason than because I wanted this conversation to be over.
"Understood, Captain." Bishop nodded.
Before anything else could be said, I turned on my heel and wrenched the door open. The Captain's sigh followed me as I retreated down the hall.
Wraith and Kendra ducked out of the room opposite ours, a box of teabags in hand. I slipped past them in the narrow hallway, giving a silent nod to Kendra before I ducked through the door into our room. Her footsteps paused. I thought she might turn and head back for me. But Wraith called to her and her footsteps retreated.
Finally alone, I plopped into the chair in front of the desk, running a hand through my hair. For a long time, I sat in silence, waiting for the tightness in my chest to ease. Needing this ball of rage to unravel.
Part of me wanted to believe the anger was justified. That Bishop's accusations were unfair and unfounded.
Another part of me worried that the anger came from something else. Fear. Fear that he might be right. That if given the order, I would obey and go back home. And if there was one thing he was right about, it was that doing something like that would hurt Kendra.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to will the thoughts out of my head. What was the point in worrying about a scenario that didn't exist? One that might never happen? I wasn't being called back home. Wasn't given orders. This was all just a what-if. So why was it eating at me? Why was I letting it?
Memories of the other night flashed through my mind. Her breaths in my ear. Her skin on mine. That damn line we had tried so hard not to cross.
Something I couldn't take back. There was no conversation. No mutual understanding of what this meant.
For me, at least, it wasn't what Bishop had said. Wasn't a fling. Wasn't casual. There was no part of me that wanted it to mean nothing. I never had been that kind of man. And I was damn sure that I never could be. Not for her.
But I was at war with my own mind now. Need and want clashing with duty. Telling me to prepare myself. Telling me to start planning how I might defy an order that didn't exist yet.
A different sort of anger moved into place, shoving Bishop and his pushiness aside. An anger I had spent the last seven years avoiding.
This wasn't a life I wanted for myself in the first place. All of this? This job? It was forced on me. To protect Sherry. And it had been for fucking nothing. She had suffered anyway. I couldn't save her.
Why the hell was I even considering loyalty to them? Because I was worried they might hurt Sherry? Or Claire? Hadn't they already done that?
Or was I just worried it might get worse?
"I brought you tea." A soft voice nearly made me flinch.
My head snapped to the door, finding Kendra in the doorway—holding two steaming foam cups.
My brow twitched, confusion betraying my usual composure.
She caught it, shrugging lightly before taking a step closer. "You looked upset."
I leaned forward, accepting the cup and settling back into the chair. "Thank you." I mumbled.
Lowering herself onto the bed across from me, she lifted the tea to her lips and took a tender sip. "Do you know where my paper cranes went?"
The question was so unexpected that it instantly softened me, stealing my attention from everything else. "Mouse has them. He didn't want you to crush them while you were napping."
She frowned. "I hope he gives them back."
A small laugh escaped me. "Do you want me to get them for you?"
"No. You're pretty intimidating. You might scare him."
I raised a brow. "You understand that man has about two hundred pounds on me, right?"
She waved dismissively. "He's harmless."
"To you." I snorted. "He's still a tank."
A soft smile curved her lips. "Eh, that's all that matters. I'm sure you can handle yourself."
I blew over the rim of the cup before testing the temperature. It wasn't too hot, so I took a small sip and set the cup on the arm of the chair. "Yeah. You don't need to worry about me."
Her eyes found the ceiling. She didn't respond.
I tapped my index finger against the foam. "Feeling less tired yet?"
Another shrug, this one heavier. "Not really. I mean, my body is sick of sleeping. But my mind is just..." she paused, then looked back at me. "Overworked."
"Are you at least having good dreams?"
"Not dreaming at all, actually."
I nodded in understanding. "No wonder you want to sleep. Your brain is just shutting off."
"Wish I could do that when I'm awake." She muttered.
The words hit me in the chest. A pattern of hers I hadn't stopped noticing. She had a way of saying something extremely loaded with as few words as possible.
"I'm sure I can find a way to distract you."
A breathy laugh. "Oh yeah? You have a particularly thrilling game of battleship in mind?"
"Among other things."
She hummed. "Can't promise I'll be very fun to talk to."
"I always like talking to you."
Our eyes met. She searched my face before a small smile lifted the corner of her lips. We both looked away at the same time.
We let that linger between us. She lifted her tea to her mouth, swallowed a generous amount, tried to set it on the floor. I carefully took it from her hand before she could.
She protested. "I want to be able to reach it."
"Just ask for it back."
"You want me to bother you every time I want to take a sip of tea?"
A small laugh slipped out of my nose. "Gives you a reason to talk to me."
"I don't need a reason to do that." It came out confident, but she blushed like she had only just realized how vulnerable it sounded.
"Is that right?" I leaned further back, relaxing into the chair. "I'm all ears now."
"I don't have anything to say now."
I clicked my tongue. "What ever happened to your ability to 'talk someone to death'?"
She snickered, laying back on the mattress. "Not exactly trying to kill you, Leon."
"I think we both know it would take more than that to kill me."
A teasing look glimmered in her eye. "Right. How could I forget? You did tell me you missed my voice once."
I ducked my head immediately, heat rising to my cheeks. For once having nothing to say.
She shifted on the bed. "Sorry. I just meant..." a shy laugh, "I thought it was sweet."
Of course she did. I could remember that moment with extreme clarity. After I said it, she kissed me. No, we kissed. She gave me a chance to pull away. And I didn't. That was the first time we'd kissed.
Back to a time, not so long ago, that I now found myself longing for. Not just because she had kissed me. But because it was a time when it was just me and her.
If I was being honest with myself, I wished we could return to a time earlier than that. Before we had been forced out of that safe house. Before Verissimo. So many weeks spent together. Doing nothing but existing in the same space. Time taken for granted.
Those days were peaceful. Domestic. A type of normal I had wanted for myself before I had ever been forced into this life. A life I had come to assume would never be possible for me.
Movement in my peripheral had me looking back to the bed. She sat up, sliding toward the edge of the bunk. "I wasn't making fun of you."
I'd almost forgotten she had spoken to me before.
"I know." I held out her tea. "You want to take a walk? Get out of this room?"
She made a face, taking back the cup. "I'm still pretty tired. I think I want to go back to sleep. But you should go. Get some fresh air."
I hummed, tracing the rim of the foam cup with my thumb. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."
She tilted her head. "Shook you up that bad, huh?"
My eyes fell shut, recalling that feeling of overwhelming terror when she had been locked down here alone with those monsters. When I couldn't reach her. When I had torn the room apart looking for her and couldn't find her.
"It's just not worth the risk." I murmured. "I can go to the main quarters if you want to be alone. But I'm not going above deck."
She shrugged. Casual. Deceptively so. Very much aware of how bothered I was, but choosing not to push. "It's fine. I don't really need to be alone to sleep." Then she paused, turning her gaze to the porthole window. "I sleep better when you're around anyway."
I watched as she tipped her tea to her lips again. The sound of paws on steel ventured through the open door. Harbor sniffed her out, finding her on the bunk. I hardly noticed when he jumped onto the bed beside her.
She looked down at him. "Does he seem like he has less energy today?" Her fingers scrubbed at a spot behind his ear. "Do you think he's sick?"
"He's worried about you."
She frowned. "How can you tell?"
"Because he's a terrible dog." Then my tone lightened. "But he's... a good dog too."
A pleased grin split her lips and she folded forward, kissing the top of his head. "You hear that? You're starting to win him over."
I snorted, reaching forward to take her tea. "Go to sleep."
She let me take the foam cup, giving no argument as she lowered herself into the blanket. Harbor cozied against her stomach, resting his head on top of her hip. I watched as she made herself comfortable, eyes falling shut.
Setting both cups on the desk, I sunk further down in the chair, keeping my eyes trained on her. Like something might happen if I looked away. She shivered once and tucked her hands under her chin, pressing her fingers to her throat.
I could have made her get up. Could have pulled the blanket from the bed and draped it over her. But she looked too comfortable, cuddled with that dog, and I didn't have the heart to do the practical thing. Instead, I got up and went to the wardrobe, sifted through the clothes and towels, and eventually found her carry-on bag. Tucked at the very bottom was her pink blanket. I pulled it out, shaking it open, and returned to the bed.
There was no way she was asleep yet, but she didn't move or open her eyes as I found her side. She stayed completely still as I carefully laid the blanket over her. Harbor huffed at me as it covered his face, but he adjusted, emerging just to set his snout back down on her hip. Trying to disturb her as little as possible, I tucked the blanket over her shoulder, ensuring all of her stayed warm.
Just as I began to step away, her hand shot out from beneath the blanket, catching mine before I could go. I went still, waiting for her to say something.
But she said nothing. Instead, she brought my fingers to her lips—and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.
My heart stuttered. The flustered part of me wanted to step away. Another part of me wanted to kneel beside her and pull her into my arms.
I did neither. With a steady breath, I reached for the chair, pulled it closer, and slowly sat back down. She clasped my hand in hers, pulling it into her chest like a security blanket.
I knew if I tried to pull away, she would let me go. But I didn't want her to.
Sweet girl. I thought. Gentle and soft. Not exactly the type of person you find in the midst of this life. Even after everything they'd put her through, she still hadn't hardened. Still offered a tranquil hand.
Maybe that was why I was so drawn to her. Even I had become rigid. Emotion was something we always kept buried. And working this job? Those emotions were seldom good.
I tried, at least. Comforted people the only way I knew how. A steady voice. A hand on a shoulder. Promises stitched together long enough to get someone through the next hour, even when I knew the ending wouldn't be good. That was kindness in its own respect, but it wasn't the same as Kendra's.
She could still smile. Laugh. Offer comfort that really meant something.
Being around her was a breath of fresh air. Even when she could barely hold herself together, she still found the strength to give me something I didn't even know I needed.
That's how I knew Bishop was wrong. I wouldn't leave her behind. Couldn't. Not because of whatever complicated intimate relationship this was between us, but because she needed safety and I was determined to ensure she had it.
Though, maybe a selfish part of me wanted that too. Maybe I was allowed to be a little selfish. Wasn't I? If I was ordered back home, I think I would disobey.
For the first time, it felt like an option. If I could choose my own fate... I think she might be a part of it.
I imagined what that might look like. Given a pen to write my destiny. If I just... wrote her name and broke the pen?
I damn near laughed at myself, shaking my head. That was a dangerous thought. A stupid one. Cheesy and ridiculous and... impossible.
Still, as I traced the soft lines of her face with my gaze, a subtle ache bloomed in my chest. A wanting for something I knew I wasn't allowed to have.
My fingers tightened around hers instinctively; holding on just a little longer. Feeling as though she were already being taken from me.
~ ~ ~
Kendra
Lamp light washed the steel room in a nostalgic yellow when I finally woke up. Waves crashed against the ship in a steady lullaby, calling me back to a peaceful sleep. It seemed, though, that my body had finally had enough of the constant rest. It ached to move. To do something other than wallow in whatever this awful feeling was.
I sat up in the bunk, stretching my legs and arms as I did so. Harbor's tail thumped against the mattress, energized immediately when he realized I was up. My fingers found his back, scratching him in acknowledgment.
"You're probably hungry, huh, buddy?" I croaked the words, sounding just as exhausted as I felt.
"Dinner's ready." Leon's voice sounded from a few feet away, making me jump. Somehow, I hadn't noticed him sitting at the desk.
He turned in the chair, looking back at me. "You gotta be hungry by now."
I opened my mouth to deny it, but my stomach growled, giving a traitorous answer of its own.
He nodded, slightly smug. "That's what I thought."
Before I could argue, he was on his feet, crossing the room. Harbor leapt down from the bunk, looking up at Leon with large expectant eyes.
"Come on, let's get you something to eat."
I sighed, averting my gaze to the floor and scratching at the blanket still draped over me. There was something so daunting about leaving this room. About facing the crew again.
They all knew. Knew I was related to Verissimo. Knew that his experiments on me had personally led to the hundreds of deaths we faced today. The deaths still continuing to rise. And maybe they didn't look at me with judgment or blame, but they didn't look at me with pity either. It was impossible to tell what they thought of me. And that was worse.
Suddenly, Leon was crouching in front of the bunk, low enough that his face was below me. Directly in my line of sight. He tilted his head.
"What if I said please?"
A small smile betrayed me. "...maybe," I whispered. "I'm just not in a socializing mood right now."
He lifted his hands in surrender. "I like eating in silence." A pause. "You don't have to eat a lot. But you need to eat something."
I blew out a breath, forcing my smile down. "I guess you're right."
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Yeah, yeah," I cut him off, pitching my voice down to mock him before he could say it. "I'm always right." A playful eyeroll. "I get it."
The corner of his lips twitched. "Glad we have an understanding."
I tossed the blanket over his head.
He chuckled, pulling it from his face and throwing it back on the bed. "Come on. If we're fast, I can sneak you in and out of the kitchen without anyone noticing."
"Treating this no-socializing thing like serious business." I mumbled, finally slipping toward the edge of the bunk.
"In case you haven't noticed," he stood up. "I'm usually pretty serious."
"Agree to disagree." I reached for him. "Give me a hand."
"Well, I would, but my hands don't detach." Despite the absolutely terrible joke, he took my hand and tugged me to my feet.
I snorted. "That was the corniest one by far."
"Made you laugh, though." He reached forward, brushing stray curls from my face.
Without thinking, I tipped my face into his hand. He held me immediately, thumb stroking over my cheek. My eyes found his. For a second, stepping closer seemed dangerously tempting.
"Do you really think we can sneak in and out unnoticed?" I asked.
"Easy." A small smirk curved his lips. "Time to put your operative skills to the test."
I glanced down between us. Nothing but fuzzy socks covered my feet. Leon sported heavy, rubber-sole boots. A small laugh slipped out.
"The whole crew will hear you coming in those."
He raised a brow. "I'm impressed by your observation skills already." The words came flat. Still, he bent down, pulling the laces loose and slipping his feet from the boots. He straightened and waved theatrically. "Better?"
I glanced at his socks.
He crossed his arms. "You're gonna have to be okay with office-white socks. We can't all own pink bunny socks."
With a hum, I turned for the door. "You could if you were brave enough."
"Are you calling me a coward?"
I tossed a teasing look over my shoulder, winking and holding up two pinched fingers. "Little bit."
He moved for the door, pulling it open and glancing into the hall. Harbor slipped out of the room the moment the door opened, vanishing somewhere down the hall.
"Do you remember rule number three?" He asked.
"Your rule number three or my rule number three?" I stepped behind him.
His eyes landed on me. "Your rule three."
My lips twitched. "Sounds familiar."
He grabbed me by the hand, tugging me toward the door. "Oh good. So you should know that next time you're mean to me," he paused, glancing down at my feet, "the bunny socks are going straight in the freezer."
“Pretty serious threat.” I remarked.
“I do recall you making a similar threat when we first met.”
I giggled and shoved him. He hardly budged, grinning.
My stomach growled again—louder this time.
Leon sobered, snapping his fingers to keep us on track. "Okay, focus, no more shenanigans."
"Shenanigans?" I snorted.
"Yeah, do you need a dictionary?"
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. "No, sir."
"Good." He leaned out the door, staring down the hall before swinging back into the room. "The mission is simple. We go straight to the kitchen and back."
I gave a mock-salute. "Understood, Agent Kennedy."
He ignored me. "It's late evening. Around this time, most of the crew will be above deck playing cards. If we stay below deck, we can get to the other side of the ship without being noticed."
"And if we get caught?"
"You run for the kitchen. I'll distract them."
"Solid plan." I nodded.
"Ready?" He looked out the door and back at me.
“Following you.”
“Okay, let’s go.” He pulled me into the hall, making a run for the corridor that led away from the officer's quarters.
I broke into a fit of giggles as he guided me through the lower deck. Footsteps echoed on the stairs ahead and he dove through the showers, pulling us behind the haphazardly hung curtain and pressing me into the wall.
"Stop laughing." He spoke with sincere seriousness. "They're gonna hear you."
I covered my mouth, the laughter jostling my shoulders. My forehead met his chest and I hid my face. He snorted, wrapping me into a hug before poking his head through the curtain.
The footsteps bypassed the showers, disappearing down the hall. We both listened as a door opened and then scraped closed again.
His hand closed around my wrist. "Move."
Before I could respond, he was tugging me back into the open. We slipped past the stairs, diving through the corridor that ran beneath the upper deck—running astern to ahead.
I nearly slipped in my socks and Leon tugged me upright. "Should probably invest in bunny socks that have a grip sole." He joked.
"I'll get right on that." I said breathlessly, trying to keep up. "Counter point—your legs are longer than mine, slow down!"
"Would you like me to carry you?"
I huffed. "My legs are short, not broken."
"Okay, well, move your short ass legs faster because I'm not slowing down."
"Leon!" I whined, but I picked up the pace. He let go of my hand, which kept me from tripping over my own feet.
"We're almost there." He assured me.
The corridor was filled with nothing but the sound of my own heavy breaths and our muted footsteps. After a few more yards, he skidded to a stop, pushing the kitchen door open and waving me forward.
"Come on, come on! Is that really as fast as you can run?"
All I could do was scowl as I slid across the steel, barreling into him. Completely unbothered, he turned me by my shoulders and guided me through the doorway. The door thunked shut behind us and I leaned into the counter, catching my breath.
His hand found the small of my back. "We're not in the clear yet. We still have to get the food and get out."
Nodding, I looked around the kitchen. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Owen and Wraith fried up some fish." He answered, grabbing a plate and handing it to me. "There's also some steamed vegetables and rice."
I moved from one pot to the next, loading food onto the plate. Leon reached for silverware, grabbing me a fork and knife. I set the plate on the counter and turned for the spice cabinet when the doorknob creaked.
"Get down!" Leon whispered, pushing me behind the island. I obeyed, dropping to the ground and stifling a laugh.
The door creaked open, boots thudding against the steel as the crew member entered. Leon busied himself in front of my plate, seeming to butter something with the knife.
The footsteps stopped short.
"Oh, hey, Leon."
I could recognize Bishop's voice anywhere.
"Hey." He grumbled back.
Another step. "You're eating again?"
"No. Kendra's awake. She's hungry."
"Oh. Where is she?"
"In her room."
"Still hiding out?"
"She doesn't want company right now."
Bishop sighed. "Yeah. I get that." There was a long, awkward pause. Someone drummed their fingers against the counter.
"Look, man, I wanted to apologize about earlier." Bishop said suddenly.
My brows knit. Why was he apologizing? What happened earlier? Is that why Leon was upset a few hours ago?
Leon said nothing, which was frustrating, because now I wanted to know more.
A heavy exhale cut the silence between them. "I was being a bit of a dick." Bishop went on. "Your business is your business."
"Thanks." Leon mumbled, pulling salt from the cupboard.
Another pause. "So, are we cool?"
Leon made a point not to look down at me, salting my food for me. "Yeah. We're cool."
"Cool." He rapped his knuckles against the stove. "We're having drinks on the upper deck. Maybe you can convince Kendra to come up? The crew misses her."
An odd little knot tightened in my chest. Something that almost felt like guilt.
They missed me?
That seemed mildly startling to me. Because only a few minutes ago, I had been thinking about how weird they had been toward me. Assuming the worst of them.
"It's probably better if she doesn't drink." He put the salt away.
Bishop laughed lightly. "She a sad drunk?"
Leon's gaze flickered to me only briefly. "She's a very happy drunk. But she has no filter when she talks."
He hummed. "So, you have seen her drunk?"
"Once." He didn't elaborate.
"Well, I'll take your word for it." His footsteps trailed away and the door scraped open again. "No pressure. Drinking not required. Captain doesn't drink. He'd probably like some company too."
"I'll make sure to pass that on." Leon mumbled.
"Oh, one more thing." He stepped back into the kitchen, the sound of something rustling meeting my ears. "Mouse wanted me to make sure she got these."
Several tiny, lightweight items toppled against the counter.
Finally, Leon cracked, giving a breathy laugh. "She was wondering where those were."
The paper cranes. It couldn't have been anything else.
The door opened once more. "Don't let anything happen to those. Mouse will never let me hear the end of it."
"Sure." Leon nodded once.
"Thanks." And then Bishop was gone, the door thunking shut behind him.
I peered over the counter, ensuring he left. My gaze immediately found the paper cranes beside the stove.
With a sigh, I rounded the island and carefully scooped the origami cranes into my hand. They were small—no bigger than a chess piece. The perfect size to fit into the pockets of my sweater without crushing them.
Leon came up behind me. "That was a close one. You almost got caught."
"Got the cranes back, though." I snickered.
"Very important." He agreed, gently pushing my plate into my hands.
More voices carried down the hall, wandering past the kitchen.
He crossed his arms. "Might have to eat in here."
I shrugged. "Eh, probably shouldn't bring dishes into the room anyway." I shoveled a bite into my mouth.
"Adoptive parents were strict, huh?" His hip found the counter, leaning into it.
I winced but said nothing, choosing to stuff my face with rice instead.
"What was that?"
"Wha'?" I managed through a mouthful.
"That face."
I shook my head, swallowing. "Wasn't a face."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Maybe I just don't want to talk about it?"
He crossed his arms, nodding. "Okay."
"Thanks." I forked another bite, trying to swallow down this sudden shitty feeling with the food.
He knew he'd hit a sore spot. But he didn't know that it had nothing to do with my adoptive parents. This time, it had to do with my biological ones. And that was a topic I really didn't want to think about right now. Or ever again, for that matter.
So I ate my food. Faster than usual. Hungrier than I'd been in weeks.
"Look who's inhaling their food now." Leon teased me, watching as I picked the last of the fish from the bone.
"It's my best Leon impression." I joked, wiping at the corners of my lips.
“Cute.” He made a sarcastic face. Then he looked away, doing his best to hide his smile.
I made my way to the sink, rinsing the plate. “Sorry. Can’t help but mock you a little bit.”
He shrugged. “Just as long as you’re eating.”
I hummed in response, grabbing the sponge and scrubbing the plate clean with soap and water. When the dishes were clean, I stacked them on the drying rack and turned back around.
“Okay, Agent Kennedy, how do you plan on extracting me back to base?”
A crooked smile found his face. “Same way I got you here. We run for it.”
“There’s no doors between here and the showers.” I reminded him. “Think we can make it without getting caught?”
He pushed away from the counter, nodding. “You’re safe with me.”
I pitched my voice down, pressing a dramatic hand to my heart. “I trust you with my life.”
“You should.” He answered with sincerity, reaching for the door and cracking it open a hair. Briefly sweeping the hall, he confirmed we were alone and pulled the door open wider.
“Let’s move.” A calloused hand closed around my wrist, tugging me forward and urging me ahead of him.
We dove left, heading just past the stairs when footsteps echoed above us. We both froze, turning back in time to see Bishop drop onto the landing.
Surprise flickered on his face, looking between us. "...Kendra?"
"Time to go.” Leon clipped, surging forward and shoving the lieutenant backward.
"What the fuck?" Bishop stumbled, falling through the kitchen door.
Leon grabbed the door and closed it quickly before turning back for me and waving me forward.
“What are you waiting for? Move it!”
I broke into a run, giggling as I fled the scene. Leon stayed hot on my heels, the two of us tearing down the corridor. We only got half way down when I lost traction and pitched forward.
He caught me by the elbow. “Those socks are a safety hazard.” He chastised me.
"What the hell is going on?" Bishop yelled down the hall, already back outside of the kitchen.
I couldn't contain my laughter, slipping a second time.
Leon blew out a breath, dipped down—and threw me over his shoulder. I grunted as my torso fell over his back, hair falling into my face.
“If this were a real mission, you would have been caught.” He sounded dead serious.
All I could do was giggle, the world unsteady as he ran for the officer’s quarters. When I looked up, I caught Bishop running after us.
“He’s following us!” I hissed, still laughing.
He exhaled in annoyance. “Of course he is.”
The hall opened into the main living quarters. Bunks and hammocks were a blur in my peripheral as he ran for somewhere to hide. The sound of Bishop’s boots in the hall sent a surge of adrenaline through me.
Then Leon dove right, that haphazardly hung curtain nearly smacking me in the face as he took cover within the showers. The moment we were concealed, he put me back onto two feet.
I giggled, swaying slightly as I tried to regain my footing.
His hand never left my arm, keeping me upright. “You have to be quiet.” He warned me. “He’s gonna find us.”
I pressed my spine into the wall, unable to truly stifle my giggles as I whispered. “He looked so confused.”
Leon snorted. “Can you blame him?”
I shook my head, sinking down the wall as I desperately tried to quiet my laughter. The moment I sat on the tile floor, water soaked through my pajama pants.
“Ugh,” I lifted my ass away from the water. “You couldn’t have chosen somewhere better to hide?”
"Sorry, I must've missed the brochure for luxury hiding spots." Leon snipped.
I opened my mouth to respond.
"Who are we hiding from?" Bishop suddenly appeared beside my elbow.
I yelped in surprise, jumping away from him.
Leon snickered at my reaction, crossing his arms. “We’ve been caught.”
Bishop shoved the curtain aside. “No shit. I could hear Ms-Giggles-A-Lot from the hall.”
I ignored both of them, groaning as I writhed around to look at the dark spot in my clothes. “My butt’s wet.” I whined.
With an amused laugh, Bishop straightened and looked between us. “So what are you guys up to anyway?”
“Mischief.” I answered, pushing to my feet.
“I can see that.” He looked me up and down. “Running around like you’re doing something you’re not supposed to.”
Leon gestured to me. “She’s out of bed, though.”
“Why did you chase us?” I tilted my head at him.
“Why did you shove me into a room and run?”
“It’s a secret mission. You don’t have clearance for the details. Right, Leon?” I looked to him.
He nodded, backing me up. “Right.”
Bishop folded his arms across his chest. Patiently waiting for a real answer.
I rolled my eyes. “Okay fine, I was hungry but I didn’t wanna socialize. So we were sneaking around. Are you happy?”
His lips twitched. “Wow. You fold under absolutely no pressure, huh?”
I scoffed.
He shrugged. “Did you get Mouse’s origami things?”
The question sent genuine anxiety down my spine, a gasp tearing from my throat. “My cranes!” I plunged my hands into my pocket, pulling the folded paper out immediately.
To my relief, they were hardly damaged. Easy enough to straighten out and not completely flattened from the ordeal of being carried.
I blew out a breath, holding them up. “They survived.”
“Oh thank god.” Bishop snorted. “Good thing you didn’t overreact.”
I reached forward, grabbing the curtain and smacking him in the face with it.
He swatted it away, laughing.
As I tucked the cranes back into my sweater, Bishop turned for the hall.
“Well, I’m glad you seem to be feeling better.” He stepped out of the shower room. “We’re making s’mores above deck. If you’re feeling up to it, you should join us.”
The invitation was entirely warm. Too warm to meet with anything but reciprocal kindness.
“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Bishop.”
He threw up two fingers—a peace sign, maybe—then he was gone, his footsteps fading back down the corridor.
My eyes returned to Leon, who was suspiciously quiet now. “He reminds me of my brother.”
His head tilted in curiosity. “How so?”
I shrugged. “He’s… fun. Not so serious.”
“That’s good. Better than Lex.”
I clicked my tongue. “Lex isn’t that bad… anymore.”
Leon made a face. “You’re right. He’s not bad. He’s terrible.”
“Do you always hold grudges like this?”
“When it’s warranted.” He nodded to the hall. “You ready to go back to the room?”
I crossed my arms, considering it. Before, I had been completely worn out. Wanting nothing more than to keep to myself. Now? There was an inexplicable surge of energy. A desire to actually be out of bed. And that need to hide away from the crew no longer sat on my shoulders.
“I think I want a s’more.” I answered.
For some reason, I expected Leon to be surprised. Instead, a small smile found the corner of his lips and he pulled the curtain aside.
Summary: 11,359 words // angst, heavy angst, whump, hurt/no comfort
Author's Note: Content Warning! Graphic description of murder, attempted murder, violence, violence against a female character, guns, knives, stabbing, shooting, fall to the death, infection, strangulation, blood. Reader discretion advised.
>Chapter 36
Chapter 35:
Kendra
September 24, 2005 — Saturday
There was the impulsive need to move closer to Leon. Like he might be able to protect me from this conversation. Though, after the night we just had, pressing into him was a different kind of danger that I couldn't risk in front of the entire crew.
The silver handle of the fork was smooth in my hand. My thumb glided across its surface, back and forth, the metal cold against my skin.
I trained my gaze on my plate, refusing to look at anyone around me. "What do you want to know?"
Jill slowly crossed the room, her posture leisure and non-threatening. That hardly mattered. Confrontation was written all over her face. "Verissimo said a lot of things last night. Things that leave the rest of us feeling... uneasy."
"Yeah, well, that's something we have in common." I muttered, prodding the hash-browns with my fork.
She leaned her hip against the poker table across from us. "He said that you were the reason the virus was perfected."
"Actually," I glanced up at her, meeting her eye for a fleeting second before I looked away again. "He said the virus was nearly perfected. He isn't there yet."
Rook tapped his fingers against the poker table. "Semantics, Kendra."
Jill gave him a warning look and Rook clamped his mouth shut. With a breath, she turned back toward me. "Can you think of any reason why Verissimo would say that?"
I shifted, realizing a few seconds too late that I was leaning into Leon. With a sharp exhale, I tilted away. "Probably has to do with my immunity. The fact that he's used me as his test subject. Unwillingly, I'd like to add." The last part sounded as bitter as it felt.
Harvey straightened on the other side of the room. "What about that whole thing he said about destiny? How it's brought you two together again. Did you have any other interactions with him before he kidnapped you?"
"Not directly." I tucked my legs under myself and set my plate on the coffee table. "I was hired to investigate his lab in Portugal. To collect evidence against him. But you already know that."
Jill nodded. "Right. He said you've always disrupted his plans."
"That also implies you've done it more than once." Harvey pointed out. "So how many times have you encountered him?"
"Three times. The compound. The beach. And here on the ship."
Rook leaned over the table, pressing his hand into the wood. "So that leaves one obvious question. What happened in Portugal?"
Acid burned my throat. I clenched my teeth, swallowing down the anxiety threatening to claw its way up.
Leon nudged my knee with his. Light enough to reassure me. A quiet reminder that he was there.
My voice came small and quiet. "I already told you. I got the evidence. My partner betrayed me. He injected me with the virus in an attempt to stop me. When I didn't turn, I killed him and I ran."
Jill took another step closer. "I believe you. But we're gonna need more than that. Something else happened. Maybe you don't even realize what it is. But if you tell us, we might be able to help you figure it out."
For a long time, everyone was quiet. I wanted to hug my knees to my chest—make myself smaller. Wanted to find shelter. Instead, I sat frozen on the couch like a cornered animal, my heart racing a mile a minute.
Owen finally took cautious steps closer. "Ya do remember it, don't ya?"
I met his eyes. They were as warm as always.
My voice scraped out of me, barely audible. "I wish I didn't."
Jill shifted, arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Look, I know this isn't an easy thing to talk about. Under normal circumstances, we wouldn't be asking." She held my gaze, refusing to yield. "But Verissimo said things that don't add up. And we can't afford to not ask questions. Not now."
I turned away, grinding my teeth to fight off the tears that burned my eyes. Only Jill had seen me cry. Yesterday. When I thought Leon had died. The rest of them weren't going to see me cry. Not over this.
Owen sat on the nearest bar stool, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. "I know you're a private person. I get that. But the more we know, the better prepared we can be." He gestured toward the window. "He's still out there. Waitin' to come back. And I don't want to see what he's plannin' to do to ya next, kiddo."
My spine hit the back of the couch with resignation. Before I knew it, my eyes were trained on the ceiling, refusing to look at anyone else in the mess room. There was a long silence as I tried to find my words, fingers worrying the hem of my sleeve.
I took a deep breath. "It was early May when Angela got the call..."
The mess room faded around me as I spoke.
Angela's office filled my memory. The stack of papers on her desk. The blue highlighter clasped in her hands. The framed certificates on the wall behind her. She sat sideways in her chair that day, tapping the end of the highlighter against the desk.
"I just got off the phone with the U.S. Strategic Command." She said cryptically. "There's been a credible report of a possible terrorist threat in Portugal."
I crossed my legs, utterly composed. If I could go back to that day, I'd scream at myself to get out of that office. To tell Angela no.
But there was no way to change the past.
"Terrorism?" I echoed. "Against the United States?"
"It's an international threat. The federal government has reason to believe that several countries will be targeted. Including us."
I folded my hands over my knee. "I'm all ears."
A small breath left her and her eyes flicked to the window. I followed her gaze, looking down at the city below us. We sat on the fifteenth floor of this building. A great vantage point for anything that might happen outside.
Her gaze found me again. "USSTRATCOM is looking for a federal operative to plant on the inside. Collect data. Confirm or deny their suspicions. But this lab in Portugal... they're strict. They only hire Portuguese nationals."
Something settled in the pit of my stomach. Some instinct I should've listened to.
Angela spun the highlighter between her fingers with practiced ease. Over her knuckles. Under. Smooth enough that, under different circumstances, I might've been impressed.
"Your parents were Portuguese, correct?"
"My biological parents, yes. But I was born in America."
She waved dismissively. "We can forge citizenship."
I kept my composure. "You want to send me?"
"You're the only operative I have that would blend in." She dropped the highlighter on top of the papers. "You speak the language. You look native to the region. And you have the training to handle the mission alone." She paused, giving me a look that held something softer than professionalism. Concern. "Which you would be. If we sent anyone else, they'd be turned away."
I leaned back in the chair. "What sort of terrorism are we talking about?"
"Bioterrorism." She picked up the stack of papers, getting to her feet and rounding the desk. She stopped just short of me, handing me the papers. "It's a research lab studying viral infections. The federal government was tipped off. An informant claims the lead doctor on the study is engineering a virus he intends to use as a weapon. To unleash on the public."
I thumbed through the papers, scanning the words on each page as quickly as I could. My attention snagged on the name.
"César Verissimo." I mumbled under my breath.
"That's our guy." She nodded. "He doesn't interact with much of his staff. It's unlikely you'll meet him. And better you don't."
"Is he dangerous?" I quirked a brow.
"Could be. But that's not for you to find out. All we need is to confirm a virus is being engineered. And the data that proves it's dangerous."
"Aren't all viruses dangerous?"
She sighed. "We're not talking about simply killing civilians."
My skin crawled and I tipped my face down. "Then what are we talking about?"
Angela sat against the desk. "There are worse things than death. Things mankind shouldn't have the power to do."
I crossed my arms. "Stop talking in riddles."
"Then let me be frank." She wandered toward the window, stopping a foot away and staring down at the parking lot below. "These viruses are engineered to cause mayhem. They alter and mutate the body. Creating cannibals and monsters. Sometimes... sleeper agents." Her eyes flicked back to me. "They are created to spread quickly. Catastrophically. To take down entire cities. Entire countries. To collapse governments and militaries."
"Grandiose." I spit bitterly.
"So," she continued, "it's important that we confirm this is happening. Bring back hard evidence that USSTRATCOM can use to justify a military response. Shut down that lab before innocent people die."
I held the papers to my chest. "Let's say I agree. Getting there is the easy part. But once I have the evidence, how do I get out?"
She turned to face me completely, giving me a smile that finally looked like her own. Not my boss, but the Angela I knew. "You'll have Avery, like always."
Avery. The helicopter pilot our agency was contracted with. He had pulled me and other operatives out of danger more times than I could count. Maybe not a friend, but still someone I trusted.
"That's not all." Angela continued. "There's an agent the U.S. Strategic Command will be sending with you. Name's Moroe. He'll be in charge of extracting you safely."
"Just one federal agent, huh?" I tapped the papers with my index. "Moroe? Not exactly a Portuguese surname."
She lifted her hands in surrender. "I thought the same. But he has some sort of rapport with Verissimo. I was assured it was the safest option." Her expression softened. "You'll have backup."
I smirked. "Concerned about my safety, Ange?"
A breathy laugh. "Don't be an asshole."
Shrugging, I got to my feet. "Okay. So I guess I'm Kendra Sousa again for the next few months. When do I leave?"
"Three days." She answered. "I need to get all your paperwork in order. Once your new identity is squared away, you and Moroe will be on the first flight to Portugal. They'll think you're a new researcher. A top graduate student at your university. Working towards your doctorate in medicine. Think you can sell it?"
I should have told her no.
"I'll have to brush up on my medical terminology." I joked instead.
The memory of the office bled away. Instead of warm summery walls, I stared at the cold steel ceiling of the lower deck.
I expected Jill or Owen to speak first. Instead Leon, shifted beside me, leaning closer. "Wait. Your parents were Portuguese?"
"Not Diana and Rob. My real parents."
He nodded. "Yeah. I get that. But don't you remember what Verissimo said last night?"
"He said a lot of things." I muttered.
Leon scooted closer. "He said, 'there are no coincidences.'"
I held his gaze, waiting for him to continue.
He gestured with his hands. "Verissimo made the V-virus to collapse foreign governments, correct?"
"Right." I nodded.
"Then why would he risk it devastating Portugal too?" His brow pinched. "Why build something that wipes out your own backyard?"
He leaned back slightly. "What if he engineered it to have little effect on people of Portuguese descent?"
From across the room, Lex pushed off the wall. "You think that's why Kendra could be immune?"
"It's possible." Leon muttered, but he didn't sound entirely convinced.
"If that were true, then there would be other Portuguese citizens that are immune." Jill pointed out. "There'd be no reason for him to track Kendra down across the Atlantic. To hunt her down and experiment on her."
Bishop shrugged. "Jill's got a point."
Lex nodded, finger pointed at nothing in particular. "Leon has a point too. But we're missing something."
Owen hummed. "I believe Kendra wasn't finished with her story." His green eyes found me. "Go on, kiddo."
I heaved a sigh. "Three days wasn't enough time to prepare. If I'd had more time, I might have looked into Moroe before getting on that plane."
The plane cabin filled my memory. Dark windows from the early morning departure. The loud hum of the engines.
But worst of all, I remembered him. A man standing at six foot four. Bulky shoulders. Prominent brow. Eyes so dark they were practically black.
He sat across from me, smiling like we were friends. "You usually nervous about flying?"
It was the first thing he'd ever said to me. When he said it, I realized I had been clicking my pen an obnoxious amount. My fist tightened around it and I tucked my hands into my lap, smiling back.
"Not the plane I'm nervous about."
He cocked his head. "Don't think I've ever met a spy with anxiety."
"It's better to get the energy out before the mission." I shrugged. "Can't afford to be anxious once we land."
He snorted, opening a packet of powdered creamer and dumping it into the foam cup of coffee in front of him. "I know the real reason you're nervous."
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. "Please enlighten me with your infinite wisdom, Agent Moroe."
Stirring the coffee with a plastic spoon, he looked back up at me. "Sousa. Right?"
"That's my undercover name. Yeah."
"No. That's your name." He paused, bringing the spoon to his lips and licking it clean. "At least, it was. Before the Mason's adopted you."
I didn't move, but my stomach twisted. "You did a background check on me?"
"I always do my research." He shrugged, like he hadn't just punched me in the gut with knowledge he shouldn't have.
I narrowed my eyes. "And you think that's why I'm nervous? Because I was once a Sousa?"
He laughed, snagging the coffee and tipping it to his lips. Chancing a sip, he grimaced and reached for a sugar packet. "No. I think you're nervous because this isn't your first time in Portugal."
That made my fingers still. He noticed. Of course he did.
"You've been there before." His tone stayed light, almost conversational. "Am I right?"
My throat tightened before I could stop it. I shifted my attention to the window. He followed my gaze—not my eyes, but my avoidance. Like he was mapping it.
"Family vacations?" he added after a beat. "That's what it's usually called."
Silence.
He hummed softly, like he was thinking it through rather than stating it. "Funny thing is, your parents didn't have a lot of money. Your home life wasn't exactly... stable."
My jaw tightened.
He took another sip of coffee, grimaced again, added sugar. Then, quieter—almost offhand: "They lost custody of you. Neglect. Drug use in the home. That's what the file says, anyway. Hardly the type to scrounge up money for multiple vacations across the Atlantic."
His eyes lifted slightly. Not accusatory. Measuring.
"Unless there was something over there worth the effort."
I brought the pen to my temple, clicking it against my head. "And what would be worth the effort for two drug addicts, Agent Moroe?"
He hummed, gaze flicking over the length of me. "You're a scrawny thing. Is that because you're sick?"
My brows twitched. "Excuse me?"
Another sip of coffee. He lowered it casually, licking his top lip. "It's a theory I have. Your parents drew attention at customs. And Immigration kept tabs." He held up two fingers. "Twice, you came back from Portugal with a fever. Tested negative for everything the CDC cared about. But fevers aren't restricted to infections. They come with cancers, autoimmune diseases, and several other disorders."
He paused, leaning back in his seat. "So which is it?"
"None of the above." I shrugged, dropping the pen. "I'm in good health. No matter how... scrawny... I might be."
An amused smile lifted his lips. "Didn't mean any offense, Miss Mason."
"You should call me Miss Sousa. Wouldn't want a slip of the tongue in the field." I raised a brow.
"How about I just call you Kendra?" His tone came suddenly warm.
Deceptively warm. Something I had missed at the time.
I leaned my cheek into my palm. "Didn't know we were on a first name basis."
He grinned. "You can call me Richard."
"Richard." I nodded, committing it to memory. "Are you always this abrasive?"
Two beefy hands lifted in surrender. "Can you blame me? I don't know you. In my line of work, knowing who to trust is what keeps you alive."
"Hm," I tilted my head. "And you think a little girl running a fever fifteen years ago is evidence that I'm... what? A secret Portuguese plant that spent eight years fooling a federal agency just to land this assignment?"
A shrug. "Nothing's impossible."
"You have trust issues, my friend." I snorted.
He opened his hands in invitation. "So give me a reason to trust you. Answer the question."
My fingers drummed against the tray table. "Wish I could. I hardly remember those trips."
He clicked his tongue. Light and teasing. "Come on. You were twelve the last time you flew to Portugal. Old enough to remember."
I blew out an annoyed breath, slapping my hand against the tray table. "Nothing really happened on those trips. I was usually left alone with random family who didn't bother watching me. I remember being bored. That's about it."
He nodded, sipping his coffee again.
"I have a question." I added, watching his every move.
"Let's hear it."
"Your agency assigned you to this mission because you have a preexisting rapport with the lead doctor. César Verissimo. What's that about?"
His smile widened. "Ah, so you did research of your own?"
"Aht aht aht." I wagged my finger as if chastising him. "Answer the question."
That only seemed to amuse him more, a soft chuckle escaping him. "He's been on our radar for a few years. I was planted in his university lab a couple years back. Before he got funding from the Portuguese government to do this study."
With a smug laugh, I nodded. "Right. So you're actually the secret federal plant. Guess every accusation's a confession when it comes to you."
He grinned. "The distrust seems fitting now, doesn't it?"
I hummed. "Here's a riddle for you, Rich. If you have such a strong rapport with this doctor, why did your agency call me in? Surely you have enough evidence to justify a raid."
He laughed. It was an awkward laugh. Less confident than his usual persona. "That's... a touchy subject. I told them you weren't needed. But my supervisor insisted on the extra skill set."
"Oh? You prefer to work alone?"
He shifted in his seat. "I've learned I don't like relying on other people. They have a way of messing things up."
I crossed my legs. "You like to be in control."
Something shimmered in his eye at that. He leaned forward, resting his forearm against the tray. "I might be willing to relinquish a little bit of it." A pause, his gaze flickering over me. "You don't seem too terrible."
"Is that a compliment?" I tried to force my smile down.
"As close as you're going to get." He lifted his cup to hide his smile, but I caught it anyway.
That memory bled away slowly. The sound of plane engines replaced by the present day waves crashing against the ship.
I shrugged lightly. "He was confusing. Antagonistic one second. Charming the next. I remember thinking that was just how federal agents usually are, you know? Stand-offish. A little manipulative. Distrustful. It comes with the territory, doesn't it?"
Leon shifted beside me. "Ouch."
I passed him a sympathetic smile. "I don't think that anymore."
He gave me a look, like he was only teasing me, then gestured vaguely. "Guy sounds like he told on himself from day one." A noncommittal shrug. "Can't really blame you for keeping secrets after that."
"The thing is..." I hesitated, feeling embarrassed to admit this now. My eyes dropped to my hands, feigning interest in my fingernails. "After we landed in Portugal, I did trust him. He was different. Warmer. He seemed like—" a frustrated breath tore out of me. My voice came smaller. "Like my friend."
"He was trying to earn your trust." Jill said gently.
"I should have known better." The words scraped out of me. "But everything he did..." My brows cinched. "It felt genuine."
Another memory surfaced. Fluorescent lights. Empty hallways. The cold hum of the lab long after everyone else had gone home.
I'd been snooping through computers in the restricted section, cycling through possible passwords when security caught me.
I'd done a terrible job covering for myself. Every excuse stumbled out thinner than the last. Wrong floor. Curiosity. Misunderstanding. None of it sounded believable—not even to me.
If I didn't think of something fast, I'd be removed from the program. Mission failed. Sent home before I ever learned what Verissimo was hiding.
The security officer caught me by the wrist and yanked me out of the lab hard enough to make me stumble.
"You know I could call the police for this?" he snapped.
I tried to pull free. "I work here."
He scanned my badge again, jaw tightening. "You work here," he repeated flatly. "You don't have clearance for this floor."
Heat crawled up my neck. Panic pressed hot and ugly against my ribs.
"What you're doing is illegal," he continued, tightening his grip when I resisted again. "You're lucky. Security carries guns. Someone might have got trigger happy."
That made me still.
For the first time since arriving in Portugal, I felt young. In over my head. One bad decision away from ruining everything.
Then we rounded the corner—and I collided hard into someone's chest.
The guard startled, jerking me back.
"Moroe..." he muttered.
I looked up.
Richard stood there, broad shoulders blocking the hall, dark eyes fixed on me with sharp, unreadable focus. His gaze dropped once—to the guard's hand still wrapped around my wrist—before returning to my face.
"Everything alright?" he asked mildly.
"Just escorting out this trespasser."
Richard's expression didn't change.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"There's been a misunderstanding." I answered. "I was in the lab."
Richard nodded once. "Retrieving that paperwork I asked for." A lie. One that sent relief washing over my shoulders. He turned to look at the guard, gaze flicking to his hand wrapped around my wrist. "You're hurting her."
The guard's jaw clenched, and pain eased as his grip loosened. "She's not supposed to be back here, Moroe."
"She goes where I tell her to go. I'm her supervisor." Then his voice dropped, more stern. "Let her go."
His grip vanished and Richard's hand found my elbow, gentle as he pulled me into his side. "Come on, Sousa, I'll walk you to your car."
I obeyed, stepping behind him as he nodded to the security guard. "Have a good night, Madeira."
Madeira mumbled a good night of his own and turned back toward the lab.
The two of us headed for the elevators, saying nothing. Only once the elevator door closed did he look down at me. "Are you okay?"
"My ego is bruised." I snorted. "But physically—okay."
His gaze dropped to my wrist. "You sure? He grabbed you pretty hard."
I rubbed at the red mark in my skin. "I'm a big girl, Richard, it's okay."
He nodded once. "Next time you want into restricted areas, tell me first."
"I can't wait for you to escort me everywhere." I argued. "Besides, every time you try to help me into a restricted area, someone always shows up. You'd think you know the security's rounding times by now."
"They're spontaneous." He said flatly. "But you really shouldn't do things without me. You don't think before you push into places you shouldn't.
"Tch." I rolled my eyes. "And here I thought you liked working alone."
"Still true." He said bluntly, but his lips twitched. "Unfortunately, I give a shit about you and would prefer if you didn't get yourself killed."
I bumped his arm with my shoulder. "I've grown on you."
"Like a tumor." He grumbled.
"Don't be a dick." But I laughed anyway.
The elevator doors slid open, the parking garage coming into view. Richard nodded to it. "Go get some rest. I'll see you in the morning."
I gave him a smile and stepped off the elevator. "Night, Rich." Then I turned, heading for the rental car.
"Kendra." He called after me.
I stopped, looking back at him over my shoulder. He held the elevator door open. "From now on, just stay in your department. Okay? If I need you somewhere else, I'll call."
Giving a half-hearted shrug, I turned and began to walk backwards. "Mm. No promises. Besides, I think I like stressing you out."
"This isn't a joke." He gave me a stern look. "These people aren't harmless."
"I'll think about it. Have a goodnight." I waved and turned away. His frustrated sigh followed me, but he said nothing else. The elevator doors clicked shut, and he was gone.
The memory faded and I swallowed hard. I blinked at the faces staring back at me, feeling subtly embarrassed by my own stupidity. Everything I had missed before.
"He used his reputation to keep me off everyone's radar." I murmured. "Got me into places I shouldn't've been. When security caught me, he stepped in. Covered for me. Protected me." My throat tightened. "So when I came to him with the evidence and he turned on me..." I shook my head once. "It felt like it came out of nowhere."
Jill lowered herself on top of the table, leaning closer. "Walk us through it. What happened that day? What did he say?"
With a heavy sigh, I threw a look around the room. Wishing I could hide from the eyes trained on me. Because every person in this room was focused on me. Everyone except Lex. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, face pinched in deep thought.
My eyes found an absent place in the steel floor. "Looking back, I realized he was intentionally turning me in the wrong direction. Most of the people in that lab had no idea what Verissimo was actually doing. They handled rats. Logged symptoms. Entered data. That was it."
I could still see the entire building in my mind as I continued. "The people actually involved? Harder to find. They worked in restricted areas. Half the time they spoke in code I couldn't even translate. When I asked Richard to help me get into a high-security area, he told me he couldn't. That it would raise red flags. Make Verissimo ask questions. It made sense at the time. I mean, why would the lead doctor want a random student having access to research that could implicate him?"
God, I was so naive.
"I made this friend in the main lab. Eliana." A faint breath escaped me. "Sweet girl. Nervous all the time. She came to me one day and told me she was concerned by her supervisor's response to an unfavorable symptom she observed. She got suspicious. Worried. She was the daughter of one of the security officers. So, she took lunch with her dad and came back with his badge. Told me she wanted to sneak into the restricted labs."
I shifted uncomfortably. "I was worried about her. Worried she might get caught. So, I convinced her to give me the badge. Told her I'd take a look myself. She was anxious enough that it didn't take much convincing."
My hands began to tremble. I tried to force myself still, but the tremble began to crawl. To my legs. To my shoulders. Until I was shaking so hard that I must have looked cold.
Leon reached behind me, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over me. It didn't help with the tremble, but it gave me something to hold onto.
The panic stole my breath. I could hardly get out a few words without stuttering over air. "I went to the restricted area. Waited for the staff to go on lunch. Snuck in when I was sure it was empty."
This memory was painfully clear. Everything about it infiltrated my senses. The smell of bleach on the tile. The A/C that left the air cold. White walls that made everything feel larger than it was.
That day, in that moment, I had been incredibly calm. Collected. A different person than who I was today. Navigating the halls was easy. Every move came natural.
I made my way to the largest door and pressed the badge to the sensor. The lock disengaged and the door slid upward immediately. With quick steps, I slipped inside the lab, ignoring the door as it slammed down behind me.
I navigated to the computer system set up on the riser—elevated above the rest of the lab. Knowing that if something existed, it must be here.
My fingers flew across the keyboard, inputting eight digit passwords I knew. Passwords that didn't work. I wracked my brain for an answer—until I recalled the files Eliana and I had poured over a hundred times. Files detailing a specific date. A breakthrough in the study—one that, despite our best efforts, never explained what the breakthrough actually was.
May 21, 2001. 05212001.
Access granted.
I knew immediately this wasn't a normal desktop computer. This one was connected to the servers. A brilliant stroke of luck on my part. If I had chosen any of the computers on the lower platform, I wouldn't have access to everything—every piece of data collected on every individual system unit.
There wasn't much time. I searched dozens of files, typing in every possible keyword I could think of. Watching the clock in the lower right corner. Thirty minute lunch. They were already gone for seventeen minutes.
Thirteen minutes. That's all the time I had to find the evidence and get out. There hadn't been time to contact Moroe. Back then, I kicked myself, wishing I had been smart enough to call backup. Now, I knew I wouldn't have gotten far if I had called him.
Before another minute passed, that's when I finally found the folder containing everything I needed. Pictures. Data points. Trends. Damning evidence of human mutation. A virus engineered to attack the brain stem. Logs that proved they had been in contact with UMBRELLA before its fall. Years of work kept in one long file. I quickly plugged the USB drive into the tower and downloaded everything onto the drive.
As every piece of research copied over to the drive, I studied the images attached to the documents. Grotesque body gore turned my stomach. Bloated flesh. Torn muscle. Eyeballs melted from skulls. Things I had only seen in the rats—now glaring back at me in human form.
The download would take a few minutes. Enough to make me anxious. I turned away from the screen, trying to still my stomach, only to come face to face with a glass door fridge.
And inside? Dozens of vials. All labeled with the same sticker.
V-Alpha.
V.1.0
I investigated every inch of the fridge carefully. Password protected. Every slot armed with a laser sensor—meant to ensure inventory stayed untouched. The moment I removed one, a silent alarm would almost certainly trigger. Someone would be alerted.
But after what I had seen on those files, I knew I couldn't leave a sample behind. If I could get at least one sample into my possession, I could bring it back to my own people. They could engineer a vaccine. Before this had a chance to do real damage.
That was when the idea formed. I couldn't take every single one of the samples. But I could take one. Wipe the servers of all their research. Set them back by months. Give myself time to return to the states and get a head start on a vaccine.
I checked the clock. Three minutes.
The files finished downloading. I yanked the drive free and shoved it into the inner pocket of the jacket beneath my lab coat. From there, muscle memory took over. I moved fast, highlighting every file on the server—and permanently wiping them from the database. I routed through the backup directories and wiped those too. Every mirror, every archive. No cloud backups. No redundancies. I checked twice.
I dropped to my knees and quickly removed the cover from the computer tower below. Removed the cooling fans from the tower, leaving the processors to cook themselves while the system ran.
Another glance to the clock. One minute.
Pushing to my feet, I turned for the fridge. There was no time to guess a password. So I reached for the weighted stapler by the printer and slammed the bottom against the glass. It shattered in one hit. I snagged the first sample I could reach, pocketed it, and ran. As fast as my feet could carry me. Not for the door I had come through. No, they would be returning from lunch in that direction.
Instead, I ran for the closet on the far wall. Locked myself inside. Quickly reached for the vent on the ceiling and removed the cover.
Lab vents were larger than normal. Designed to vent chemical accidents fast. I could fit. And I did. Using all of my upper body strength, I pulled myself through the ceiling. I pressed my limbs against either side and shuffled upward. When I finally got to a horizontal opening, I stopped to take a breath.
My instructions were clear: get the evidence and get out. The first number I called was Avery—the pilot. A man I trusted with my life. A man who always got me out. He was a ten minute flight away.
That gave me time to contact Moroe. Have him meet me at the heli pad on top of the building. At the time, it felt like the smart decision. The safe one.
It was the moment everything went wrong. If I could go back to that day, that would have been the one thing I changed.
The phone rang only twice. His voice came through sharp and quiet.
"What did you do?"
"Meet me on the roof. Evidence secured. Evacuating immediately." Before he could say anything else, I snapped the phone shut.
It took me longer than I would have liked to navigate out of the vent system. By the time I found an empty room to drop into, I was sure that Avery and Moroe were already waiting for me on the roof. I hurried for the stairs when my phone chirped.
A call from Avery.
I flipped the phone open and pressed it to my ear. "I'm almost there."
"Kens?" He sounded concerned. "This agent is telling me to leave. Can you confirm departure?"
"What?" I panted into the phone, out of breath. "No, I have the evidence. Wait for me."
"Agent Moroe," he called into the background. "We have to wait for Mason."
The line crackled. Yelling muffled by the sound of the rotors slicing through the air. Then the line went dead.
I cursed, picking up speed. Thinking that if Moroe was urging Avery to leave, it was because they had been found. We couldn't risk losing our pilot. Moroe was sending him away for his safety.
The moment I stepped onto the roof, my heart dropped. Blood splattered the heli pad. The helicopter windshield. Richard stood outside the helicopter, gun in hand, facing me.
And I turned away. Looking away from him. Searching for the danger. Assuming in that moment that the scene in front of me must have been caused by someone else. A security guard. A researcher. Anyone other than Richard.
I hurried toward him, dread crushing my chest. "Richard? What happened? Is he okay?"
He lifted his hands in vague sympathy. "Security was here when I showed up. He shot Avery. I managed to shoot the guy once, but he took off. He's getting backup. We need to move. Do you have the evidence?"
Confusion made my brain fuzzy. "Yeah—yeah, I have it."
He advanced on me quickly, holding out his hand. "Give it to me. I'll keep it safe."
Every alarm bell in my body was going off. The story not making sense.
Avery told me Moroe had asked him to leave. Moroe told me that he found Avery with a bullet in his body. If security went for backup—where were they? Why was Richard prioritizing holding the evidence? Why weren't we boarding the helicopter?
I tracked his gun. Looked to the blood pooling behind him.
And something clicked into place.
I found his eyes. Those black eyes. Staring at me intently. Impatiently.
Timidly, I reached into my lab coat, snagging the first thing my fingers could find. A pen. A distraction. Slowly, I held it out to him.
His shoulders dropped and he stepped closer, eyes glued on my hand.
Just as he stepped within reach, I snapped forward—one hand catching his gun wrist and wrenching it backward until the pistol clattered to the concrete. His other hand shot out, ripping the pen from my fingers before he shoved me hard. I spun, pulling a knife from my waistband.
"What the fuck, Kendra?" He growled, moving for the gun.
"Don't." I stepped in front of it, holding my knife toward his throat.
His gaze flickered to the blade. "What are you doing?"
I ignored him, taking a step back toward the gun. "Avery?" I yelled over the sound of the helicopter. "Are you okay?"
There was no answer.
Tears burned my eyes. Tears I needed to blink away. "What the fuck did you do, Richard?"
He lifted his hands. Cautious. Slow. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you got it wrong. Put down the knife."
"Did you kill him?" My gaze flicked to the blood. "Did you kill Avery?"
"Kendra—"
"Answer the question." My grip tightened around the knife.
"You're confused."
An incredulous laugh. I crouched down, reaching back for the gun when he surged forward. Instinct kicked in, and my fingers missed the gun as his hand closed around my wrist. I swept my other hand out, sending the gun skidding across the pavement—and over the edge of the roof.
Moroe knocked me onto my back, wrestling the knife from my hand. Nearly three hundred pounds of pressure fell on top of me, refusing my lungs oxygen. Two knees pressed into my hips, pinning me to the ground. I scrambled for the knife, but he overpowered me, pressing the blade to my throat.
Survival screamed at me. I wrapped my fingers around the blade, needing the sharp edge to dig into anything other than my throat.
I hadn't realized I'd been crying out until he hushed me. "Don't. Don't do that. Stop fighting me, Kendra, just stay still."
My entire body trembled beneath him, tears streaming into my hairline. "Get off me!"
Ignoring me, he investigated the pen in his hand, realizing his error and tossing it away. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head and glaring down at me. "Why couldn't you just stay where I told you?" He pressed the knife's edge into my flesh.
"Rich..." I sobbed, the blade biting into my palm.
His hands began to shake, brow pinched. Pain reflected in his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. Just give me the evidence. Give me the evidence and I'll let you go."
"No you won't." I shook my head. "We both know it. You killed Avery."
He hesitated, breathing hard, almost panicked. Then he shook his head. "Please just give it to me. Don't make me do this."
I writhed beneath him, trying to buck him off my body, a scream tearing from my throat. "Why the fuck are you doing this?!"
His other hand pinned my shoulder to the ground, forcing me still as he threw his weight into his arm. My shoulder blade grinded against the pavement, a cry tearing from my throat. Spit flew into my face as ragged breaths pushed through his gritted teeth. "You're a naive little girl. Obediently following orders just because you're told to. You have no idea what you're doing."
"Have you seen what's on those files?" I screamed back at him. "He's killing people. Mutilating them!"
The blade eased up in my hand. Not enough for me to regain the upper hand. Just enough that it wasn't cutting into me. "This virus is so much more than that, Kendra. Do you know what our government did with Raccoon City?" His voice dropped. "They wiped it out. Thousands of innocent people. To cover their own asses. This virus is designed with tactical intelligence. To control the infected. So they only attack who they're told to. Do you know what we could do with that kind of power?"
"You're fucking crazy!" I struggled again.
He grabbed me by a fistful of hair, jerking my head so hard that pain shot down my neck. "Would you fucking listen to me?"
When I refused, he jostled my head violently, slamming my skull into the pavement. The pain stunned me and I stilled, crying softly. Struggling to comprehend how this was Rich doing this to me. The same man that had been gentle. Had stopped security from hurting me. Now smashing my head into the concrete.
His jaw twitched. "Dammit, Kendra." A breath, his hold on me never easing. "I need you to understand. I'm not doing this because I want civilians to suffer. It's the opposite. Verissimo wants to use this virus to collapse corrupted governments. To take out those in power that are sacrificing people. Our people. American citizens. Tell me you understand that?"
I released the knife, wrapping my bleeding hand around his wrist. "He's lying to you, Rich. He doesn't care who he hurts. Let me show you those files. I'll prove it to you. Please."
Desperation replaced anger. His hand slipped from my hair, but he kept the blade at my throat. "That doesn't matter. He can say whatever he wants. I just need him to complete his work. So I can take the virus and end all of this once and for all."
"Who are you going to sacrifice in order to kill the people you blame?" The words seemed confident, but my voice trembled. "How many innocent people will die for your cause?"
"They killed my brothers!" He yelled at me, the blade sinking into the flesh of my throat. Another sob tore out of me and I flinched away from him, turning my face into the pavement as droplets of blood slid down my throat. It wasn't deep, but that didn't matter. Terror seized me all the same.
Rough hands grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "There was a cure. But the president had orders. And my friends died because of them. They could have been saved. People I sacrificed everything for. People I loved. What right does the president have to pick and choose who lives and who dies? His own fucking soldiers!"
That told me all I needed to know. This was still Richard. Hurting. Grieving. Which meant I could still reach him. Still talk him down from the ledge.
I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his. He expected me to try to pry the knife away because his grip tightened. Instead, I swept my thumb over his knuckles.
"You're hurting. What happened to you wasn't fair. I get that." I spoke gently. "But you can't hurt innocent people in retaliation. Someone has to die in order to build your army of infected. People that are loved. People that don't deserve it."
He swallowed, hands still trembling. "I have to do this. Even if you don't understand. I know you think I'm evil, but I have to stop them."
"I don't." The words rushed out of me. "I don't think you're evil. You're my friend. We can still make this right."
He shook his head, grinding his teeth. "Please, Kendra, just give me the evidence."
"I can't do that." I held his gaze, still crying.
His shoulders shook and he leaned over me, face contorting into desperate grief. "Don't be stupid. You know I could just kill you and take it. Don't make me do that. I don't want to. Do the right thing."
I lifted my chin as much as I could, holding my ground. "If you need to kill me, then do it. Kill me." A tiny sob slipped through. "But look me in the eyes when you do it. Look me in the eye when you take my life from me. Don't fucking look away."
I watched the battle in his eyes. Watched as every emotion crossed his face. For a moment, I thought he might let up. Might let me go.
He tossed the knife away—then immediately wrapped his hands around my throat. Tight. Painfully tight. I could no longer breathe or speak. Not even a dying sound could escape me now.
I clawed at his hands, kicking my feet as he strangled me. The lack of oxygen must have warped reality. Made me hallucinate. Because I could swear he was crying now. Crying as he crushed my windpipe.
All the fight slowly drained out of me. My limbs tingled without air. Little by little, my body began to grow limp.
Richard peeled me from the pavement, pulling my face closer to his own. His voice sounded far away as he mumbled into my ear. "Go to sleep. Please. Just go to sleep."
Weakly, I reached for his face. He jerked his head back, meeting my eye once again. I feebly held his jaw in place, forcing him to look at me. Refusing to let him look away.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pulling me closer. "I'm sorry." His panicked voice met my ear, fading little by little. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry."
Darkness edged around me. Closing in. I didn't want the last thing I saw to be my murderer's face. So I looked at the sky. Noticing, for a single fleeting second, how pretty the orange hue of the sunset was.
And then Richard's body jerked and I dropped to the ground—dragging in air. An ugly hoarseness stole my voice and I turned onto my side, weakly kicking away from him.
Reality slowly came back to me. Sound and image. Blooming through my senses. When I had an ounce of strength, I looked down my body, searching for him.
He was on his knees, holding his chest, blood seeping through his fingers. It was impossible to understand what happened. I rolled onto my stomach, body heavy as I forced myself onto my knees.
That was when I saw movement by the helicopter.
Avery.
Bleeding and crumpled to the ground, but alive. Waving at me desperately with a gun in hand.
"Kendra!" He yelled over the sound of the rotors.
What the fuck?
I shook my head, trying to clear it of the haze, and stumbled to my feet, tripping over the pavement as I made my way back to the helicopter.
Pain erupted in the back of my leg and I collapsed back onto the ground. I looked back to find Richard, the knife sunk to the hilt in my thigh. He coughed up blood, clawing up my body. Yanking the knife free and raising it again. This time, he aimed for my back. I rolled away from the blade, not making it far with him still attached to my legs. When it struck the concrete, he sliced at me instead, the blade grazing my hip.
I launched at him, catching him by the wrist and wrestling for the weapon. We were both weakened now. Both fighting for our lives. Rolling across the rooftop. Toward the ledge. A seven story fall. Not survivable.
He used his weight to overpower me, bringing the blade dangerously close to my eye. Maybe he was on top of me again, but my legs weren't pinned this time. Using every ounce of rage inside of me, I slammed my knee into his crotch. He folded forward, grunting. It was just enough for me to knock the knife from his hand. It fell off the ledge, plummeting to the ground below.
I tried to wriggle free, but he captured me in his arms.
"I can't let you leave." He panted into my ear, his blood soaking through my clothes. When he reached down, I thought it was for another weapon.
But it wasn't.
The needle sunk between my ribs before I had time to react. The plunger depressed under his thumb. And white hot liquid boiled me from the inside out.
I screamed in pain, seizing as the liquid spread through my body. Finally, he released me, sitting on my waist. Watching as I contorted. Witnessing what he had done.
"You didn't give me a choice." He yelled down at me. "It didn't have to end like this."
The virus was pain. Just pain. Every muscle in my body locked so violently it felt like the fibers themselves were tearing. First my limbs. Then my jaw, my neck. Down my back. Twisting until I was sure my spine had snapped.
His hand rested on my stomach, almost remorseful. "I'll keep you safe. Until I find a cure. And when all of this is over... I... I can undo this."
I couldn't move. Couldn't fight back. Needing his hands off of me.
Gently, he pushed me out from under him, away from the ledge, like he was afraid I might fall when I seized—because he placed himself between me and the edge. "Maybe you'll understand. After. Maybe you'll hate me. That's fine. The world will be a better place when I bring you back."
It felt like an eternity. Every movement out of my control. Hearing it all but not being able to fight back. Not being able to control my own body. Fear gripped me at the base of my neck, sending ice through the molten trembles that claimed me. Every awful sensation existing at the same time.
My ribs spasmed until breathing became impossible. Unable to scream. Unable to cry. My head struck the concrete with every violent wave, hard enough to spark light behind my eyes. Back arching away from the ground until my legs went numb.
Richard folded over me, cradling my head as my body twitched and writhed. As if cushioning my skull somehow erased what he'd done.
Stop touching me. Get your hands off me. Let me go.
I'm going to die. That thought weighed on top of me. Heavy and deeply unsettling. I'm going to die. I'd seen the images. Seen what this virus did. What it was doing to me now. It was going to melt my eyes from my skull. Rip my flesh from the bone. And I was going to die with my murderer's hands on my body.
My heart slammed hard against my chest. Then slowed. Almost to a complete stop. Would I feel it stop? Would I feel the moment my body gave up?
Everything went still.
I wasn't sure what I expected to happen next. Maybe I would mutate. Maybe I would die. Whatever it was, there came a moment where feeling returned. Movement. Control. And only one thing I needed to do.
"Kendra?" Richard asked, leaning back to look at me.
Sparing no moment of hesitation, I lifted my legs, buried my feet in his stomach—
And shoved him off the roof.
He grabbed my ankle, pulling me with him before losing his grip. I only fell half-way over the ledge, clinging to the concrete for purchase. Listening as his scream lasted longer than I expected it to.
When his body impacted with the ground, it echoed and I flinched.
There was no strength left to pull myself back onto the roof. For a moment, I considered letting go. Falling with him.
And then Avery was there, fingers digging into my elbows as he heaved me back onto solid ground.
"I got you, Kens." He mumbled, struggling as he dragged me toward the helicopter. "I got you."
I looked up, seeing as he held a hand to his stomach, blood soaking his shirt and pants. Richard had shot him, that I was sure of. But he wasn't dead. God, he wasn't dead.
"I can walk." I tapped at his hand, urging him to release me. He did immediately and I clambered to my feet, grabbing his arm and pulling it around my shoulder. He sagged against me, letting me help him back to the helicopter.
Somehow, I managed to help him through the door. He dropped into the pilot's seat, ignoring the blood as it soaked through his clothes.
"Can you fly us out of here?" I panted, sinking to my knees beside him.
Every breath was ragged, but he moved with purpose, flicking buttons and pushing everything into place.
"Buckle up, Kens." Was his only response.
I obeyed, slipping into the passenger seat and pulling the harness across my chest. The helicopter lifted from the pad and I reached into my jacket, ensuring I still had the drive and sample. Both were still there, somehow unharmed after the entire ordeal.
We were already flying over the trees when men began to pour onto the rooftop. They fired after us in vain. Too late. They were too late.
The lab faded into the distance. My head fell back against the seat, hand gingerly sweeping over the handprint around my throat, hot tears burning my cheeks.
Richard Moroe is dead. I killed him. A federal agent.
My friend.
When the memory slipped away, I found myself curled into the corner of the couch, my fingers absently rubbing at my throat.
Leon reached for me, sweeping his hand across my shoulder.
For a reason I couldn't articulate, I pulled away from him. All I knew was that at that moment, I didn't want anyone touching me. Not even him.
He retracted his hand, saying nothing. It was clear no one really knew what to say. And I could hardly remember just how much of that memory I was able to speak aloud.
A horrible ache in my stomach told me I may have spoken every grueling detail.
From across the room, Lex pushed away from the wall and left without a word. All eyes turned to follow him. Giving me a moment of brief privacy.
Too brief. No one moved to follow him out. No one asked questions. So the attention returned to me.
Owen was the first one who found something to say. Even if it was hesitant and unsure.
"I'm sorry."
It was the type of thing you'd expect someone to say after that. Because there was no proper response, really. But when Owen said it, it sounded sincere. Spoken gently. A true offering of condolences.
With my knees drawn into my chest, I tucked my hands into my stomach. Making myself smaller. My voice was especially husky now. "Did you get the answers you were looking for?"
The captain's jaw tightened at my tone and his gaze found Jill. She remained unflinching.
"It helped." She assured me. "We can figure out the rest later."
Bishop fidgeted from his seat. "What about the debrief?"
"Later." Jill stressed the word again. "There's a lot that needs to be done. Maintenance. Laundry. Go make yourselves useful."
Owen nodded, agreeing with her as he got to his feet. "Take a minute." He directed the words to me. "Collect yerself."
"I'm collected." I answered numbly.
"No. You're not." He gave me a pointed look. Then he looked to Leon. "Ya know where to find us if ya need anything."
Leon nodded. "Yeah." It was all he was willing to give.
I waited for everyone else to filter out. Watched the door close behind them. Felt the weight of the silence when Leon stayed on the other side of the couch.
For a long time, he kept his eyes somewhere else. A gesture I was grateful for after spending the last hour or so being the center of unwanted attention.
Even when he finally spoke, he tried to keep his eyes averted. "Do you want me to go?"
I stared at his side profile. Traced the sharp line of his nose with my gaze. "I want to ask you something."
A frown tugged at his lips, but he nodded.
My voice came impossibly soft. "Do you think he was ever my friend?"
Finally, he looked at me. There was a battle in his eye. One I could predict. An impossible choice between answering the question truthfully, and saying the kind thing.
He stayed quiet for too long.
I sighed, staring at the couch cushion. "I keep going over it in my head. There was no one I could talk to about it. No one to be honest with me. So, I just keep thinking... yeah, he was manipulating me. And Richard was right. I am naive."
I paused, a knot growing in my throat. One I had to swallow. "But even if I wasn't his friend. He was mine. And what the fuck do I do with that?"
His eyes softened. "It's okay to grieve him. Even if he doesn't deserve it."
I wrapped my arms around my legs, holding onto myself. A weak shrug lifted my shoulders. "That's the thing. I know he did something horrible... but I can't convince myself that... whoever he was in the end is all he ever was." A beat. "Do you think all people are is every bad thing they've ever done?"
He blew out a breath. "You know, I think maybe he did care about you. As much as he was capable of, at least. But I also think... people can get hurt bad enough that they stop caring what they break. And maybe the harm they cause isn't all they are, but it's not an excuse to spread their pain."
For a moment, I brushed my thumb over my arm. A gesture I used to soothe myself.
I met his eyes, the blue of them somehow brighter today. "Can I tell you something?"
"Anything." He answered. Immediate.
"I think... I think I understood him." I dragged in a shaky breath. "I mean, not the part where he wanted to hurt innocent people to get revenge. That part... it's obviously just misguided rage. But—" my fingers tightened around my arm. "He had every right to hate what happened to his friends. To want to prevent it from happening again."
A laugh escaped me. Small. Empty. Every bit of my sadness trapped inside it. "I think that's why people turned on your agency," I said quietly. "Not because they woke up evil. Because they got hurt. Because they watched people die and stopped trusting anyone to make the right choices anymore."
I rested my cheek against my knee. "Maybe I'm too understanding. Too forgiving. Or maybe I'm just stupid. But... I don't hate them. They want to do the right thing. But they don't know what the right thing is anymore."
Leon leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "You're not stupid. You can explain something without excusing it. Just because you understand why somebody broke doesn't mean you deserved what they did."
He exhaled slowly, gaze dropping to his hands as his thumb dragged absently across his knuckles. "I was betrayed by someone I trusted too. He was my mentor. During my time in the military. He disappeared after a mission. Our entire unit was wiped out."
His voice dropped, suddenly husky. "I didn't know how much that had tortured him. Not until he showed up out of the blue on one of my missions. Tried to kill me. Because I stood in the way of his revenge. Because he hated the government for what they did to his men. Couldn't live with it."
His eyes found me again. "I had to kill him. He didn't give me a choice. So believe me when I say that I understand everything you're going through."
I stared back at him, fighting the tears that burned my eyes. Unable to find my voice.
His gaze dropped briefly, like he regretted saying that much. Then he offered me a sympathetic smile. "Guess I should feel special." A faint huff of amusement. "Considering your track record with federal agents, I must be doing something right if you trust me." He was teasing, but there was sincerity there too.
An airy laugh escaped me. "Yeah, well, you're different."
"Different?" He raised a brow, the corner of his lips lifting.
"Yeah. I mean. You're funnier than all those other guys."
He sighed. "How is it you finally admit I'm funny and it still sounds like an insult?"
A small giggle slipped past my lips and I straightened. "Because there are a million good things about you. And your dumb jokes take last place."
He shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Asshole."
I smiled to myself, dragging my hand over my legs. Realizing at that moment just how desperate my body was for something soft. Something that could negate the memory of violence.
"Leon?" My voice was suddenly timid.
"Hm?"
"Can you come here?"
Confusion flickered in his face, but he scooted toward me. Not yet touching me. Still keeping a few inches between us.
"Closer."
He obeyed, hips pressed against my ankles.
Without a word, I crawled into his lap, folding into his chest. As close to his heart as I could reach. He wrapped an arm around my legs, drawing me closer while his other hand settled lightly against my shoulder. Holding onto me like he'd been waiting for this.
We didn't say anything. Didn't need to. We just stayed like that. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Breath to breath. His fingers occasionally combing through my curls.
My eyes slipped shut, the hours of lost sleep suddenly catching up to me. Wanting nothing more than to fall asleep here.
I could feel myself drifting. Mindless fog settling over me. Cocooned in the safety and warmth of the arms around me.
And then the door scraped open. My body twitched at the sound, not quite startled. Too tired to react to it properly.
"I found something." Lex's voice echoed through the mess room.
I still didn't move, no longer caring about anything else. To my surprise, Leon didn't move either.
There was a pause. Lex sounded more awkward now. "…Everything okay?"
"She's sleeping." Leon grumbled quietly.
The fabric of his clothes rustled, rubber boots striking the steel floor. "She needs to see this."
"Now?" I could practically see Leon's infamous glare in my mind.
Heaving a sigh, I tilted my head back over his arm, tiredly blinking at the medic. "What is it?"
There was a hint of remorse in his face, like he might actually regret disturbing me. Still, he indicated to the laptop in his hand and lowered himself to his knees. He set the laptop on the coffee table and opened it, typing in a password and turning it toward us.
"Look."
Annoyed, I reached for laptop, refusing to leave Leon's arms. Mostly because we'd already been caught and I selfishly was not ready to go.
Balancing it between my knees and my chest, I quickly began to skim the document he had open. "What am I looking at?"
Lex leaned back onto his calves. "This is one of the documents from the USB drive you gave us. The one you stole from Verissimo."
"Okay?" I continued to scan the sentences. All word vomit of Portuguese medical terminology I could hardly piece together in my sleepy haze.
"That file you're reading? It's a study from 1988. Read the information on the test subjects."
I lifted a brow, finding the paragraph and translating it aloud.
"Female subject age ten. Male subject age three. Administered one dose of V.0.1 strain. Subjects exhibited extreme fatigue, fever exceeding 39.4° Celsius, extreme body aches and pains, amnesia, and reversible comas."
I looked back at him. "So, he was testing on children? All the way back to the eighties?"
"Look at the names." He urged me on.
I threw up a flippant hand. "I can't. They're redacted. It says they're minors. He couldn't include their names in the study."
Lex nodded. "Right. But their parents had to sign the consent. Look at the signatures."
My eyes found the screen again, navigating to the bottom of the document. The cursive was legible. So legible that I felt every muscle in my body go rigid.
No. That can't be right.
On line one: Miguel Sousa.
And line two?
Francisca Verissimo.
Lex watched me carefully. "Was that your father's name?"
Acid burned my throat. I nodded numbly.
His voice softened. "How old were you in 1988?"
A long aching silence.
"Ten," I whispered. Leon's thumb brushed my shoulder.
Something flickered in Lex's expression. Regret. Like he was hoping he'd been wrong.
"Do you... remember the other child? The three year old? I think it might be Verissimo's son."
"It's not." I closed the laptop.
"How do you know?"
"Because. The three year old was my brother." I paused, meeting his eye. "Francisca is my mother."
Lex looked confused. "But... she signed with the last name Verissimo."
I felt like I was going to be sick. Putting the puzzle pieces together in real time.
"Because my parents got married in the U.S." I mumbled. "But they were citizens of Portugal. And a U.S. marriage certificate doesn't... legally alter Portuguese IDs."
"She was using her maiden name." Leon breathed the information.
Lex ran a hand through his hair. "So... if your mother was a Verissimo... that means—"
I nearly vomited as I said the words. "César Verissimo is my uncle."
The word didn't feel real. It didn't feel like it belonged in my mouth.
I forced myself to focus on Lex. "How did you find this?"
He reached forward, taking the laptop from me. "I've poured over these files half a dozen times. When I was developing the vaccine. And when you were telling us what happened with Moroe, I couldn't help but notice similarities. The name Sousa. The visits to Portugal. You being sick. Your inability to remember what happened when you were old enough to be able to."
I looked away, shaking my head as I pressed my knees into my chest. Leon cradled me closer, dragging his hand over my shoulder. Trying to comfort me.
Lex spoke incredibly gently now. As if his next words might break me if he spoke them too loud.
"I think this is why you're immune."
I shut my eyes.
"Because you were exposed to the earliest strains of this virus. The less lethal strains. Your body built an immunity."
I pressed my face into Leon's chest. His hand found the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. I wanted the gesture to comfort me. But horror claimed me. Because this meant that my parents weren't just neglectful drug addicts. They'd sold us as guinea pigs. Their own children.
"None of this was random." Lex sighed. "It's like Verissimo said last night—"
I already knew what he was going to say. My fingers curled into Leon's shirt, my lips moving to repeat those words.
Summary: 6,482 words // fluff, sickeningly sweet fluff, domestic fluff, smut, fluff and smut, sweet, soft, missionary, riding, cowgirl, birth control mention, no condom
Author's Note: Content Warning! NSFW
>Chapter 35
Chapter 34:
Kendra
September 24, 2005 — Saturday
A crack of thunder jolted me awake. Two arms tightened around me immediately, hands rubbing warmth back into my skin. The room was freezing now, the ocean storm bleeding cold through the steel walls. Darkness pressed in around us, disrupted only by the occasional strike of lightning in the distance.
Leon carefully brushed my hair over my shoulder, fingers grazing my skin. "Scared of a little thunder?" He teased me, voice groggy.
I hummed tiredly, nuzzling my face back against his chest. "What time is it?"
He lifted his other arm from my waist, bringing it close to his face.
"Half past four."
"In the morning?" I grumbled.
"No, in the afternoon," he quipped. "Because we typically have no sun in the middle of the day."
I shifted, turning until I was lying on top of his arm. "Easy, sarcastic."
He made a sound, something between a hum and a groan. "You're crushing my arm."
I tapped the wall to make a point. "I can't exactly go anywhere."
"You could come back?" He suggested.
My lips twitched with amusement. Saying nothing, I rolled back into him. He caught me quickly, wrapping me in his arms.
I half-heartedly struggled in his hold for a few seconds. Then I settled against him. "You trapped me."
"You came willingly."
Well, there was no arguing with that.
"I'm practically on top of you." I pointed out.
"I don't mind."
"Oh, well, allow me to just—" I scooted further up, until I really was lying on top of him.
An airy laugh warmed my cheek. "Was this supposed to be some 'gotcha'?"
I relaxed into his torso. "Well, theoretically, yeah. Yeah, I thought you'd protest."
"Hm." Both hands rubbed over my back, slow and serene. The touch sent a chill down my arms. One that he noticed immediately. One arm abandoned me only long enough to pull the blanket over the two of us. His hand returned to the center of my back a moment later.
"Am I crushing you?" I mumbled against his collarbone.
"Never been comfier."
"That's because I'm face down. If I laid on my back, you'd have my shoulder blades in your ribs."
Another tired hum, unconvinced. "I'd survive."
"Yeah?" Smirking, I wriggled around in his arms. He loosened his hold, allowing me to fidget and flip onto my back. I stretched my arms, yawning as I rested the back of my head against his shoulder. "How's this?"
His hands found my stomach, palms warm against my skin. I hadn't noticed that my shirt had ridden up, and I didn't care enough to pull it down.
He pressed his lips to the top of my shoulder, giving me a subtle kiss. "It's torture." He said dryly. Then he pressed another kiss to my shoulder. And another. Moving inward. Until he was pressing his lips to my neck.
My eyes fluttered shut and I turned my face away, giving him full access to me.
Both hands wandered across the planes of my stomach. Tracing a path from abdomen to rib. Lightly following the raised scars.
He spent a long time drawing patterns in my skin. An absent-minded gesture. One that seemed to lull him closer and closer to sleep. Every once in a while, he would draw in a deep breath, like he was waking himself up, and he'd press another kiss to the side of my throat.
It was peaceful. Something we had to take for ourselves in the middle of this nightmare. We didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but in that moment, it was a concern we refused to let occupy our minds.
Maybe, once we left this room in the morning, things would go back to the way they'd been before. But I didn't let that thought linger.
This was the first time in a very long time that I wasn't afraid. I refused to let the inevitability of impermanence ruin this feeling.
So, I pretended I could live here forever. A storm filling the silence. Warm hands holding me. Steady breaths at my back. Nothing but safety encompassing me.
Just as I thought we might give in to sleep, thunder cracked and I startled. His grip on me tightened, as if he was reminding me that he was there.
"You're okay," he mumbled tiredly. It was clear he was still half asleep. "Door's locked. Nothing can get in."
A sleepy giggle bubbled out of me. "Oh thank god. And here I was worried the lightning would get me."
"Mhm," he turned his face into my neck, every word groggy and almost nonsensical. "That's why I'm here. Bodyguard." A pause, like his mind was lagging. "Guarding your body."
I sighed, stretching over him. "Yeah. You're pretty good at it. I couldn't believe you found me earlier."
His voice was so thick with sleep it came out as a croak. "I'll always find you."
Funny. It seemed like he always was finding me. The day we met. That night in the lake. The compound in Montana. So those words weren't just words to me. I had the proof. An abundance of it.
Was I any good at reassurances? He deserved at least one.
I moved instinctively, shifting in his arms until our stomachs were pressed together. I crawled further up his body to brush a kiss against his cheek. It felt inadequate, so I gave him another. Then another.
He sighed, palms skimming my back in gentle strokes.
When he didn't protest or complain, I peppered a few more kisses to his face—the bridge of his nose, across both cheekbones, over his eyelids.
It was hard to tell if he was more awake now or if I was lulling him back to sleep. His eyes remained closed. Body still. But he drew in a heavy breath beneath me.
Tenderly, I swept my thumb across the edge of his jaw. "You want to know something?"
Slowly, his lashes lifted, until he was looking up at me.
A soft smile claimed my lips. "I'll always find you too."
He breathed in amusement. "Is that right?" His hands slipped up my back. "Where exactly would I have gone?"
My smile tipped downward and my throat tightened. A deep, unfamiliar ache bloomed in my chest. Despite Leon only being in my life for a short time, the idea of him disappearing from it was soul crushing. I had spent weeks trying to prepare myself for the inevitability of it. For distance. For goodbye.
It was for nothing.
The word came out strained. Barely a whisper. "Away."
Amusement vanished. His eyes flickered over my face, searching for something. Then his arms tightened around me and the world tilted. I let out a gasp as he turned and pressed my spine into the mattress. He braced himself on his forearms, only the weight of his lower body on top of me.
Both of his hands held either side of my head, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. His lips twitched almost fondly. "You remember when I first got assigned to babysit you?" He tucked a curl behind my ear. "You hated it. Pretty sure you called the whole thing a nightmare."
"You were a stranger." I argued.
A quiet laugh. "Guess you don't mind being attached at the hip now."
An incredulous laugh slipped out of me. "I don't even remember saying that."
"Are you surprised? I remember everything."
I couldn't hide my amusement. "I guess you're right."
"I'm always right." He tapped my temple with his index finger. "Remember?"
I rolled my eyes and he snickered, pleased with himself.
Trying to force my smile downward, I pressed my hands into his chest, index finger absently tapping a rhythm against his collarbone.
Something shifted between us. Subtle. Softer. His heartbeat slowed beneath my palm. One of his hands slipped down to my waist, holding onto me.
"Leon?" I whispered.
"Hm?" His thumb grazed the scar on my stomach.
"It's nice. Being here with you." I trailed my touch down his chest. "I missed you."
I almost expected him to ask what I meant. After all, we'd been together every day since the beginning of August. He hadn't actually gone anywhere. But there was a noticeable distance between us after we boarded this ship. After we had argued. A distance I resented.
He sighed, dipping down and brushing a kiss to my lips. "I did too." The words came muffled, mumbled against my mouth.
I couldn't bear it anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down. Our lips found each other, stealing kisses from each other like they were in limited supply.
A warm palm swept over my ribs. Feeling every one. His weight on top of me crushed my knees. I shifted, freeing my legs just enough that I could capture him between my thighs.
Trembling breaths pattered against my skin as he broke the kiss—only to sprinkle more to the corner of my mouth, my jaw, down the column of my throat.
Then his hand moved higher, brushing my breast beneath the shirt. Still reverent. Caressing my skin with caution and patience.
I slipped my hands beneath his shirt, giving special attention to every curve and divot, feeling as much of him as he'd allow me.
His lips grazed my collar bone, both hands slipping beneath my shirt. Every movement was gentle. Less like he was taking—more like he was giving. I felt safe in his hands. Safe beneath him.
There was a need for more. To feel his skin against my own. I tugged at his shirt, asking for permission. It was gone a moment later, discarded on the floor. With extreme gentleness of my own, I lightly dragged my nails across his skin, taking special care to avoid the bandages on his left side.
He pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat, lifting my shirt little by little. His hips pressed into mine, and I could feel him through our sweats, hard and aching. This time, he wasn't shy. Didn't pull away. Didn't try to hide it.
So, I rocked my hips forward. He finally freed me of my shirt, leaving us skin to skin. His chest pressed against mine, our ribs meeting in perfect time with each other.
My heart was racing. Every breath came shallow, my thoughts blurring around one singular need—to keep him close. Our torsos were pressed together. Naked. A line we had always resisted crossing. A line that didn't matter right now.
Why did it feel like I couldn't catch my breath?
His hand slipped behind my back, pulling me away from the mattress and into his chest. Warm lips grazed the skin behind my ear.
"Are you okay?" He whispered into my ear.
"Yeah," I nodded, the word breathless. Just to anchor myself, I wrapped my fingers around his bicep, clinging to him like he might give me refuge.
"Are you sure?" His lips brushed my temple. "I can stop."
"Please don't." I dragged my fingers down his waist, tracing every hard line in his torso. Every muscle.
His breath caught. Then he found my lips again, taking his time with a leisure kiss.
Slowly, his hand trailed down my stomach. He tugged at the hem of my sweats just once before his fingers slipped beneath the fabric.
My breath stalled, all rational thought abandoning me. My fingers dug into his skin, clinging to him.
His tongue traced my bottom lip, silently asking for more. My lips parted for him and our tongues met, the kiss sloppy and unhurried.
But I couldn't get my mind off his hand. Moving lower. Painstakingly slow. Like he wasn't sure he had permission.
Something between a breath and a groan slipped out of me. I rolled my hips forward—into his own. Asking. Maybe even pleading. Completely at his mercy. As I always had been.
He was always restrained. Always holding himself back. Too careful. Too devoted to a job that hardly existed for the majority of our time together.
If he wanted to, he could pull back. Again. There was still time for him to end this. Before it went too far.
But I didn't want him to. I never wanted him to.
Please.
The thought hit me hard. Desperation I would never speak aloud.
Please don't go.
Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not when this mission ended.
It wasn't something I knew how to say aloud.
So instead, I held him closer, kissed him deeper, savoring the warmth of his trembling breath against mine.
The longer he hesitated—the longer he thought about it—the more I braced for disappointment.
—And then his hand slipped between my legs, middle finger circling over my center with little trouble.
My legs shuddered at the contact, mouth parting against my will. He took the opportunity to swirl his tongue around mine.
It took my mind a moment to catch up. Heart beat in my throat. Tremble in my hands.
This was something I had only ever imagined. Something I was almost convinced would never happen.
As awkward and oblivious as he might have been, he wasn't shy now. He knew exactly what would make me feel good. The perfect pace. Perfect pressure.
With one hand bringing me closer to climax, the other worshipped my body. Caressing every curve. Careful and sweet. When I was too lost to kiss him, his lips found my throat, sprinkling kisses to the most vulnerable parts of me.
My hips had a mind of their own, writhing with pleasure against his hand.
A whimper escaped me. Small and pathetic.
He brought his mouth to my ear, pecking a quick kiss to my temple. "Shhh," he cooed gently. "Keep your voice down." The words were no more than a whisper.
My breath came ragged. "Leon." I whispered back, a warning as I bucked my hips against him.
He captured my lips to shut me up. A welcome method. Just when I thought I had control, he worked his finger faster. And I fell apart beneath him.
It was embarrassingly easy. Never in my life had my body responded so quickly for someone. Entirely because it was him.
My body convulsed as he brought me to finish. Breathy gasps broke through my defenses, loud enough that he drew back and covered my mouth with his hand. It brought some sense back to me and I quieted. Another kiss found the space beside my ear as he continued to pleasure me through the orgasm.
"That's it," he mumbled. "Quiet. Don't want anyone to hear."
I dug my fingers into his skin, pulling him closer into me. He obliged, pressing our bodies together so we could feel every inch of each other. I tugged at his sweats, but when he lifted his hips, it was my clothes he grabbed at. Pushing the fabric of my sweats down.
I was nothing but reciprocal, freeing him of his clothing. The two of us completely lost in each other's lips.
We kicked free of the sweats, hands navigating every inch of each other. His glided over my hips, my waist, my ribs—savoring the feel of my skin. Mine swept over his shoulders and chest, his abdomen and waist. Cherishing every part of him I could reach.
God, I couldn't take it anymore. I reached down between us, grabbing him around his shaft. He stiffened, jaw tightening before a traitorous groan escaped him. He was already hard. Throbbing in my hand. I stroked the length of him and his voice trembled, forehead pressing into mine.
"Kendra." He pleaded with me.
I opened my legs wider, wrapping them around his hips.
"Tell me to stop." I whispered, watching as his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. "Tell me and I will."
His chest heaved and he grabbed my arm, pulling me away. There was a moment of disbelief. Disappointment. It vanished when he laced his fingers between mine, trailing desperate kisses across my jaw.
Then, pressure at my opening—and we both stilled. Understanding what came next. His face drew away from mine, both of us out of breath, holding eye contact.
First, there was nothing but the sound of the storm beating against the hull of the ship. Darkness broken only by the strikes of lighting in the distance.
A hand found the back of my neck, fingers slipping into my hair. All at once, he lifted me from the mattress, dragging my lips to his, his other hand braced at my lower back.
Only then did he slowly slide inside me. Just the tip at first. Gentle and cautious. Like he was afraid to hurt me. Then he pushed further. Inch by inch. Taking his time. Until we were pressed together completely. Muffling every sound I made.
He paused, buried as deep as he could reach.
Every one of my breaths came shallow and ragged. Unable to catch it. My mind fuzzy. He broke the kiss, tenderly scratching my scalp and tipping my head back so I was looking up at him.
A teasing smile curved his lips. "Need an inhaler?"
I groaned. "Can you be serious?"
He grinned, closing the distance between our lips again. "No." Another kiss grazed my mouth. "Just making sure you're okay."
I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to focus on anything except the fact that he was inside of me.
"I just need to catch my breath." I whispered.
Carefully, he set me back down on the mattress, slowly pulling his hips back. "We should stop anyway. I don't have protection."
I laughed, running a hand through my hair. "I have an IUD."
A beat of silence. He raised a brow. "Good to know."
That amused me. "You don't honestly think I'd be that reckless?"
He lowered himself on top of me, lips brushing mine as he spoke. "We were a little caught up in the moment." A kiss. "You catch your breath?"
"The asthma's in check." I joked.
With a smirk, he rolled his hips forward. "Good."
I held my breath as he slid back inside me. He softened at that, all humor melting away as he tilted my chin up and forced me to hold his gaze.
"I got you. You're okay." More kisses found my face, planted across my jawline and against the side of my head. "Relax."
I didn't doubt my safety for a second. The words melted me anyway and I tucked myself into him. He enveloped my body completely—swallowing me in his arms, cradling me against his skin.
My lips found his throat, raining affection across his skin. Then his hips found a tortuously slow rhythm. Sliding in and out of me with a little more snap each time.
Completely lost to the sensation, my head fell back, quiet little moans building in my throat.
A sharp breath escaped him, his hands brushing over my shoulders, my chest, my ribs. Like he couldn't get enough of me. Needing more of me.
The feel of him throbbing inside me left my mind peacefully blank. I was a quivering, aching mess—thinking of nothing else but the fact that I was in Leon's arms. Grinding against him greedily as his pace quickened.
He splayed his hands against my ribcage, holding onto me as he drove deeper—a little harder than before. Each thrust unraveled me a little further. Shuddering gasps punctuated every movement. Quickly, he leaned down, stealing another kiss.
"You're gorgeous," The words came breathless as he continued without pause. "But someone's going to hear you."
I whined softly against his lips. "I'm sorry." Ragged words. Labored words. "I'm sorry."
All earlier lightness was gone. He shook his head, smothering me with another sloppy kiss before he drew back with urgency. "Don't be."
Calloused hands captured my jaw, holding me in place as fevered kisses found my cheeks and lips. "This isn't fair. Those sounds you're making—" he groaned, hips snapping forward with more speed. "Fuck, I want to hear you."
Pleasure left me dizzy. I met every one of his strokes with momentum of my own, arms wrapped around him. Clinging to him for support. Trembling beneath him.
When I dug my nails into his back, his pace quickened. The sound of the rain swallowed our labored breaths, but it did nothing to dull the sound of him thrusting into me. Whatever sound I was making should have been the last thing he cared about now.
Pressure built in my core. Panting breaths filled my ear, as he drove into me. Until pleasure and pain coexisted.
It was too much. A small cry slipped out of me—and Leon slowed. More than that, he gentled.
"Did I hurt you?" He nudged my cheek with his own, carefully combing my hair behind my ear.
"I'm good." I stole a kiss and then sat up. Before he could question me, I pushed his shoulder, guiding him onto his side.
He surrendered to me, obeying my silent command and shifting onto his back. Throwing my leg over him, I got on top of him. Without a word, he adjusted himself and lowered my hips onto him. Slow. Setting my own pace.
I threw my head back as he stretched me out. Practically feeling him in my stomach.
Calloused hands slid up my abdomen, attentive and hungry. No longer able to keep his hands off me.
Leaning over him, I lifted my hips—just enough to build a rhythm of my own. His breath hitched and he grabbed a handful of my breast, muttering a curse. When I looked down, his eyes were trained on me. Watching. Admiring.
I pressed my palms into his chest, riding him faster. "What?"
He exhaled, both hands finding my waist, running them over my skin like he was cherishing the feel of it.
"You're beautiful." He mumbled quietly.
He had never told me that before. Never made any remark about my looks, actually. There was no room for shyness now.
Collapsing on top of his chest, I continued to ride him, breathy moans escaping me. His arms tightened around my waist, one hand pressed into the center of my back, cradling me against him. The other skimmed over my ass, fingers tightening in my skin. Small sounds of pleasure met my ear as I rolled my hips onto him again and again.
"Kendra." He whispered. A warning.
"Leon." I panted back.
Our mouths crashed together, tongues meeting with haste. His hand slipped into my hair, pulling my head back as he caught my bottom lip between his teeth. Then he took the lead, driving himself into me with more roughness than I expected.
Sharp gasps punctuated every thrust, our bodies moving together, slick with sweat despite the cold.
He sat up suddenly, bringing me with him. His head brushed the top of the bunk, nearly colliding with it, but he didn't care.
Using only my legs now, I sank down into his lap over and over. He met me half way, buried inside me. His breathing quickened, sharp gasps slipping out of him.
"Fuck." His fingers dug into my hips. Suddenly, he buried his face in my neck, teeth sinking into my flesh.
My core flexed around him, nails clawing at his back. I whimpered his name and his arms slipped around my ribs. Squeezing the air out of my lungs as he lost control.
"Shit!"
Hands closed around my thighs and he lifted me from his lap with sharp speed, sliding out of me. Panting breaths filled the silence between us as he came, the mess finding my stomach and his.
He tried to recover quickly, catching his breath and turning me toward the mattress.
"Lay down." It was a gentle command. One that I obeyed.
Stepping off the bed, he crossed the dark room. Lightning struck outside the window, illuminating his figure. The wardrobe opened and fabric rustled. A moment later, he was beside me, clean rag in hand.
I remained completely still for him as he wiped my skin clean first. Hands brushing over my abdomen and inner thighs to ensure he didn't miss anything. Only when he was sure that I was clean did he begin to wipe himself down.
My eyes found the top of the bunk, giving him his privacy. Like I didn't have a right to look after what we'd just done.
He tossed the rag into the laundry bag by the dresser before slipping back onto the mattress beside me. Still a little out of breath, he tucked me into his chest.
Now that we were at rest, the cold of the room settled over me. The sweat dousing me made it worse and I began to shiver.
Leon grabbed the blanket and pulled it over me, patting my stomach once. "I got you covered." He mumbled.
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a laugh." I shook my head, but a smile slipped through anyway.
"That's a first." He grumbled.
Releasing a breath, I turned onto my side, facing him, and pressed my body into his. He folded me closer, one hand settling in my hair and the other at my back. My lips grazed the top of his chest, forehead so close to his throat that I could feel him swallow.
His fingers drifted lazily through my hair, drawing slow circles against my scalp, breath warming the crown of my head.
Neither of us spoke. Both of us trying to process the last twenty minutes. The line had been officially crossed. We couldn't undo it now. Not that I wanted to. But I couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.
Part of me wanted to ask. Should have. But my bravery was not a constant. It came and went without warning. And it was nowhere to be found now.
I felt incredibly vulnerable. Stripped of all my usual confidence and armor. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck, like I was trying to hide from something.
A kiss found the top of my head and I stilled. His hand moved instinctively against my back, warm and familiar. Quiet reassurance he didn't even realize he was offering.
He didn't know what was happening inside my head. But somehow, he always knew when to hold me tighter.
The rain hammered against the hull of the ship. Almost deafening. Always comforting. I closed my eyes, hoping it might lull me to sleep.
It didn't.
~ ~ ~
I hardly slept much after that. Replaying the events in my head almost obsessively.
Leon at least seemed to be able to get some sleep. His chest rose against my cheek in a slow steady rhythm, a faint snore filling the silence. The rain outside had come to an end now, leaving an eerie morning emptiness.
I tried to sleep for hours. Even when sunlight streamed through the porthole. Longer still. When I finally heard boots on steel in the hall, I decided to get out of bed.
As careful as I was to not wake him, it wasn't careful enough. He stirred as I scooted to the edge of the bed. I turned in time to catch him peering down at me.
"Good morning." He grumbled, voice husky.
I offered him a soft smile. "Good morning."
He shifted, stretching as I retrieved a pair of clean clothes from the wardrobe. By the time I found my way back to the bunk, he was sitting up and checking his watch.
"Sure you don't want to sleep in?" He asked, running a hand through his hair. "It's only seven."
I stepped into a clean pair of panties and dropped onto the mattress, shoving my legs into a loose pair of joggers. "Couldn't sleep." I stood, doing a little jump as I pulled the joggers over my hips. "I'm sure there's something to do after what happened last night."
He leaned closer, running his hand over my back. "There's an entire uninjured crew who can handle it."
Shrugging my bra straps over my shoulders, I let out a sigh and tried to hook it behind my back, missing the hooks on the first try. "Need I remind you that I am perfectly healed."
He let out a disapproving breath, snagging the strap from my fingers and hooking it for me. "Need I remind you that magical little power of yours isn't without consequence." Warm fingers swept my hair loose from the bra straps. "You're going to be tired. Hungry."
"I'll make myself breakfast." I shot him a smile over my shoulder. My gaze flickered down his bare torso. "You should put some clothes on."
Soft lips met the back of my shoulder, his hand snaking around my waist. "Didn't hear you complaining earlier."
I hummed, leaning into him. "Not complaining." Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, I got to my feet and pulled my shirt over my head. "We should do this again sometime."
He groaned, falling back against the mattress. "And yet, you're running away." An annoyed breath. "I remember when you used to beg me to stay in bed. We should go back to that."
"How's tomorrow sound?" I teased him.
He gave me a deadpan look, unamused.
Finally, I relented, drifting back toward him and leaning down. "If you promise to come back tonight"—I brushed a kiss to his lips—"I'll sleep in with you tomorrow."
He pretended to think about it. Then he reached out and grabbed me, pulling me down and into his chest. I grunted as he turned us toward the wall, wrapping me in his arms and legs. Not a word was spoken as he tucked me close and pretended to go back to sleep.
"Leon!" I protested weakly.
Another groan. "The second you leave this room, we have to act like nothing happened."
"Oh, so you just don't wanna cut this short?" I wriggled in his grasp.
"Yes."
That simple word softened me. I stopped wriggling, settling against him once more.
We didn't say anything. Didn't move. We just stayed like that. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Maybe more. It was too nice to complain.
When the voices of the crew grew louder through the walls, I tipped my head back and looked up into his sleepy face.
"Are you ready to let go yet?"
"No." He mumbled back, releasing me anyway.
I pushed onto all fours, sliding on top of him before pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Sleep as long as you need to. You need the rest." Then I slid off of him and moved for my boots by the door.
He sighed heavily, throwing the blanket off of his legs. "I'm up, I'm up."
My gaze snapped away quickly before I could get caught staring. He was still naked. Something I couldn't ignore. Which was ridiculous, considering the night we'd just had, but right now, looking felt... intimate in a different way.
He brushed past me, reaching for the clothes he'd discarded on the floor. "Feeling shy?" He remarked.
"I can see you aren't." I rebutted, jamming my foot into the boot.
An amused breath slipped out of him. "Didn't know I needed to be."
My fingers fumbled with my laces. "You don't."
He paused. "Are you implying something?"
"You know, I think imma let you figure that one out." I tightened the laces, snagging the other boot and pulling the laces looser.
He watched as I shoved my foot into that one too. "Why are you wearing boots? You always wear your slippers."
"Because it was raining and I don't feel like falling on my ass in front of the entire crew." Still, I didn't look at him, tying the boot.
His shadow moved over me. "Then just stay below deck." Fabric rustled. "You can look now, everything's covered."
I peeked up at him and he smirked. Because he may have been wearing pants, but he hadn't put on his shirt yet. And of course the first thing my eyes would drift to would be his arms.
The arms I had been wrapped in all night. Arms that had held me through everything we'd done.
Unable to look at him for another second, I got to my feet and turned for the door. I reached for the handle.
"Hey," he called gently.
I glanced back at him.
He pulled a jacket from the wardrobe, holding it out to me. "It's cold. Bundle up."
With eyes on the floor, I accepted the jacket and quickly fled the room. The moment I stepped into the hall, icy air bit into my skin.
Of course he was right. As I slipped my arms into the sleeves, I could practically hear him teasing me.
'I'm always right.'
I rolled my eyes at myself and hurried toward the stairs.
When I passed the doorway to the showers, I paused. Maybe I shouldn't have looked. But I did.
The door had been completely removed, replaced now by a curtain that hung open. There was no evidence of the B.O.W. I'd killed. No blood or gore from the ordeal.
My chest seized anyway. Because the evidence may have been washed away, but I remembered it clearly.
Since all of this began, that was the first time I had faced a creature created by one of these viruses. The first time I'd been attacked by one.
As desperately as I needed a shower, I wasn't sure I could step into that room today.
A sharp bark from the stairs made me jump. My eyes snapped up, following the sound to find Harbor. The spaniel stood on the top step, tail swishing with pure joy at the sight of me.
I smiled, reaching for the railing. "Hey, buddy."
He waited for me to climb the steps only to jump up and nearly knock me right back down the stairs. A hand found my back before I could topple.
The hand nudged me forward, steering me back onto the upper deck. I looked back to see Leon giving me a pointed look.
"I told you he's a terrible dog." He joked, joining me in the open ocean air.
"Be nice." I rolled my eyes, patting Harbor's head.
"Kendra!" A different voice echoed over the deck. We both looked to see Bishop and Rook standing on the opposite side of the ship. With his usual goofy excitement, Bishop waved me over.
I sighed. "Guess we're about to find out how thin these walls are." I mumbled under my breath.
Leon hummed but kept his commentary to himself for once.
We both moved at the same time, crossing the slick steel deck with careful steps. There was enough rain water left over that even the rubber sole boots wouldn't prevent a fall.
The two crew members waited patiently. Only Bishop grinned back at us. Rook remained as casual as always, hands tucked into his windbreaker.
"We were getting worried." Bishop said as we found his side. "You're usually up before us."
Rook didn't greet me. His eyes remained on Leon. "Noticed you weren't in the main quarters last night."
"I was pretty shaken up." I answered for Leon. "Didn't want to be alone in that room last night." A pause. "Not after what happened."
Rook shrugged. "Can't blame you."
If they knew something, they didn't comment on it. Bishop playfully batted at Harbor's head, riling him up. Something he seemed to find enjoyment in doing. Rook stared out at the ocean, eyes tracking the storm clouds.
The latter turned away from the waves a moment later, refocusing on Leon. "How are you feeling?"
"Sore." Leon answered. He didn't expand on that.
He nodded. "Lex said he wants to check on your stitches."
"I'm sure he does."
Rook snorted at that but said nothing.
Beside me, Bishop straightened and nodded toward the kitchen. "Mouse made breakfast. Grab some and meet us in the mess room. Captain called a meeting with the whole crew."
With a nod, I stepped past them and headed directly for the food. Leon followed closely behind me. As soon as we hit the stairs, I let out a breath, a weight lifting from my shoulders.
So far, we were in the clear.
"What do you think the meeting is about?" I looked back at Leon.
"It's a debrief." The answer came without hesitation.
"You seem confident about that." I muttered, ducking into the kitchen.
He crossed his arms. "I've been doing this a long time. Last night was a landmark event. The team needs to go over it. Pinpoint what went wrong. What we can do better."
I hummed. "Guess I'm about to get an earful about that stunt I pulled."
"Probably." He said flatly.
I snorted at his bluntness and made a plate. Little else was said between us. Carrying our breakfast to the mess room, we stepped through the threshold to the drone of chatter. Most of the crew didn't even look our way.
But Jill did. She followed our every move, watching as we found a seat on the couch. Attention from her made me nervous. Her room was right across from mine. If anyone had heard anything, it would have been her or Wraith.
When Owen turned his gaze on me, I couldn't have been more convinced that they knew. After all, Wraith and Owen were married. If she heard, she would have told him immediately.
Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore. I pushed the eggs around with my fork, refusing to look at the Captain or his second in command.
Even when he cleared his throat and commanded control of the room, I didn't look at him. Everyone settled around me, waiting for whatever it was he wanted to say.
"Mornin', everyone," he greeted us warmly. "We all made it to see another day."
The men around me laughed lightly, agreeing with him.
Owen went on, explaining exactly what Leon said he would. Summarizing the attack. Expressing things could have gone better. Just as I expected him to begin pointing out our flaws, his tone changed.
"We'll get to that in a minute." He began to pace the floor. Slow and thoughtful. "Some of ya had some concerns. About the things that doctor said. Ya want answers. Answers I don't have."
My stomach dropped, understanding finally creeping in. Because Jill and Owen weren't looking at me because they knew some petty drama.
They were looking at me because I was the only one who could answer those questions.
Questions about Verissimo. About what he did to me.
About the day that started all of this.
"Kendra?" Owen called to me gently.
Finally, I looked up at him.
"It's about time ya told us what's going on."
Jill got to her feet, expression stern. "And start from the beginning."
Summary: 8,483 words // whump, angst, heavy angst, hurt/ comfort, darkfic, fluff, soft
Author's Note: Content Warning! Graphic description of violence, body horror, graphic description of bodily injury, dead bodies, psychological horror, body gore, gun fight, infection, blood
>Chapter 34
Chapter 33:
Kendra
September 23, 2005 — Friday
Minutes. The knowledge pounded through my head like a metronome. Each invisible swing of the pendulum bar counting down the seconds. Every click urging me to move faster.
All I had ever wanted was to save the people ripped away from me. But I was always too late. Too far away. Too weak.
I couldn't save Hayden. Couldn't save Diana or Rob. Angela. I'd even failed to save myself.
Failing him wasn't an option. Leon had always protected me. Always found me. No matter the distance, the odds, the danger.
Now it was my turn.
My feet carried me across the deck, rain pelting my eyes. From aft superstructure to fore. Toward the med bay and infirmary at the front of the ship—opposite our position.
Dozens of canine corpses littered the deck. What remained alive ran directly for me.
Not the soldiers. Not the agents gunning them down.
Me.
Jill and Piers came up on either side of me, dropping every canine that got too close. My gaze locked onto the stairs leading to the lower deck. The B.O.W.s moved as one, blocking my path to the med bay. To the vaccine.
And something inside me finally snapped into place. Training. Instinct. Remembering exactly who the fuck I was.
Not an asset. Not a victim. A federal operative who had killed a government agent. Stolen classified data from a terrorist. Escaped with her life.
I raised the rifle, knowing now exactly where I needed to bury my bullets. Remembering I had taken down one of them with nothing but a metal rod to the brain.
One shot. Straight between the eyes. The first canine dropped.
"Kendra..." Verissimo's voice wrapped around my mind. "He belongs to me now. Saving him is futile."
"Shut the fuck up." My voice came cold, taking down a second creature with one more bullet.
He laughed, the sound curling through my brain like smoke. "He will turn. You will run back to him. And he'll deliver you to me like an act of providence."
Hatred and determination burned through me. The canine blocking the stairs stood only meters away.
It leapt into the air.
I dropped onto my hip, letting the rain-slicked deck carry me beneath it. The rifle barked three times, only one of the bullets tearing through its jaw. Momentum carried me down the stairs, knees hitting the steel floor with flawless precision. Without slowing, I surged back to my feet, kicking off the bulkhead to drive myself faster down the corridor.
Jill and Piers hit the landing behind me, close enough that I could hear their boots over the gunfire.
Several creatures prowled the lower deck. Their heads snapped toward us the instant our footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Then they charged.
I dove right, crashing through the broken infirmary door. Gunfire exploded behind me as Jill and Piers dropped the creatures trying to follow.
Sweeping my rifle from left to right, I prepared for another wave of canines. Nothing moved.
The infirmary was barely touched. Equipment overturned. Cabinets ripped open. But compared to the destruction everywhere else? Too clean.
My gaze locked onto the mangled doors leading into the med bay beyond. Bent inward. Torn apart.
Realization hit hard enough to make my stomach twist.
The B.O.W.s were looking for something. Something that wasn't me. Something that wasn't in the infirmary. Something in the med bay.
The fucking vaccine.
"Kendra!" Jill yelled for me, but I was already moving.
I crossed the room in a flash, kicking the broken door the rest of the way open and stumbling into the room.
The room crawled with canines, tearing everything apart. Destroying computers and fridges. Breaking medicine vials on the ground. Tossing beakers and microscopes carelessly.
Only one of them was locked onto the safe built into the wall. If I knew anything about Lex, the vaccine was in that safe.
I gunned down the creature closest to me, sprinting into the center of the room. Headed directly for the safe.
Behind me, Jill cursed. Rifles exploded, echoing in the small space. The canines went down on both sides of me, reaching with clawed hands that never made it to their target.
The B.O.W. at the safe clawed it open, sheets of metal slicing into its flesh. It was relentless, tearing at the steel with raging intention. Opening the hole in the door wider.
I raised my gun to put it down. A different one knocked me sideways, the gun clattering to the floor. As I hit the ground, Piers stapled my attacker with half a dozen rounds.
The thing fell dead on top of my weapon. I struggled to jerk it free, eyes snapping back up to the one reaching for the vaccine.
"Hey!" I screamed at it, slamming my fist against the floor. "Over here!"
Its head snapped toward me.
That's right. Come to me.
It snorted once, as if trying to figure me out. Then it turned back to the safe, wrenching at the metal, thrusting its arm through the opening. Uninterested in me.
Dammit.
Jamming my foot into the corpse in front of me, I kicked the body away as hard as possible and yanked the rifle free. I leapt to my feet, raising the barrel and firing at the only one that mattered.
The bullets found its neck and shoulder, toppling it from the wall. But the contents of the safe spilled to the ground as it fell.
It scrambled for the metal box in front of it. I jumped the platform, firing at its face. My bullets tore through its muzzle, missing the brain. The thing yelped once, but moved with purpose. It's bleeding jaws closed around the box.
I pulled the trigger. Again and again. But only empty clicks met my ears.
Fuck that. An empty gun wasn't going to stop me. Bringing the rifle back, I swung it full force at the creature's head. Bone crunched and it yelped again, scrambling away from me.
"Kendra!" Jill yelled up at me, holding off the remaining canines that were trying to reach me.
Its teeth dented the metal box. Chewing it. Trying to destroy whatever was inside. Without a second thought, I rammed the butt of the rifle into its jaw. Teeth shattered free, clattering across the floor.
The canine writhed from the blow, nearly falling from the platform as it tried to get away from me. Then its tongue flexed. The metal container slid deeper into its throat.
No.
It was trying to swallow it.
I launched myself at the creature, jamming my arm down its throat. Claws tore into my stomach and ribs instantly. Teeth shredded my arm.
Somehow, I felt nothing. Nothing but desperate determination to retrieve that box.
My fingers slipped through blood and mutilated flesh until, finally, my hand closed around the handle.
Got it.
Pressure exploded through my stomach so violently I screamed. I yanked my arm back through the razor blade teeth clamped around my shoulder.
Gunfire exploded by my ear. The monster convulsed on top of me, body jerking from the impact of round after round pelting its flesh.
Then it collapsed. Deadweight crushed me into the platform.
I gasped for air as Piers kicked the corpse off of me. My arm tore free from its mouth with the metal case still clutched in my hand.
"Are you insane?" he barked, hauling me upright by the elbow.
I barely heard him.
"I have the vaccine," I panted, crushing the box against my chest.
Jill reached us a second later, breathing hard to catch her breath. "You were almost dog food!"
I ignored her completely. Turning, I bolted for the exit.
"Kendra!" Jill shouted behind me, somewhere between furious and panicked.
I didn't stop. Didn't slow. I staggered into the infirmary, opening the box to ensure the vaccines were inside.
Five syringes of blue liquid glimmered back at me. Unharmed.
Relief nearly buckled my knees.
I snapped the case shut and ran for the hall, slipping in the blood trailing from my ruined arm.
Later. I could feel that later. Not now. Not until I reached Leon.
Piers and Jill had cleared the lower deck completely. Every canine I passed was already dead.
The stairs came into view.
Then pain hit. My first step upward sent agony ripping through my stomach so abruptly my vision blurred. My free hand clamped instinctively over the wounds. Blood flooded between my fingers immediately, dripping down the stairs beneath me.
Piers caught my arm before I could fall, hauling it over his shoulders. My fingers tightened around the box, but I let him help me up the stairs. When we reached the upper deck, I pulled away. Stumbling and tripping the entire way to the only person that mattered.
Leon's entire body locked rigid as another seizure ripped through him. Black veins crawled across his throat, his face, his arms. His blue eyes had gone cloudy as the infection attacked his brain.
I dropped beside him, fumbling the case open so carelessly that the latches nearly snapped from my hands. My fingers closed around one of the syringes.
Flicking off the cap to the needle, I grabbed his arm to hold him still—and stabbed the needle into his muscle. I depressed the plunger, watching the cure disappear beneath his skin. Then I yanked the syringe free.
Every breath came ragged as I leaned over him. Watching. Waiting. Hoping I wasn't too late. Hoping it would work.
Lex's words came back to me. The vaccine wasn't tested against this particular strain. There was no guarantee it would be effective.
My heart slammed against my ribs, sending throbbing pain through my entire body. I couldn't draw in a full breath. Not until I knew he was okay.
Slowly, the seizure passed and his body went slack. His eyes remained open, raspy breaths passing weakly through his lips.
"Leon?" My voice came shaky and I inched closer, grabbing his face and turning it toward me. Accidentally smearing my blood across his skin.
He didn't respond.
I snatched his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Leon, look at me."
A long breath pushed out of him. He blinked, eyes still foggy. "Kendra?"
"Yeah—yeah, it's me!" I nodded vigorously, sniffling as I pressed my knees into his ribs. As close as I could get.
Wet rasps tore from his throat. "You're... okay?"
I brushed my thumb across his knuckles. "Yeah, we're okay. We're both okay."
His eyes fluttered shut, skin going pale.
The chaos happening around me fell away. I reached up, cupping his face in my hands. "Hey—no—no, none of that. Open your eyes "
He didn't stir. Didn't move.
Panic seized me by the throat. I shook him roughly, trying to rouse him.
"Leon, wake up, please, you're okay." Every word sounded impossibly calm, betraying the rising panic in my chest.
He let out a breath. And nothing followed. No inhale. No movement.
I waited for his chest to rise again. It didn't.
"Leon?" My voice came small. Wrong.
My heart dropped out from under me.
No.
No, no, no—
I gathered his head into my arms so fast I nearly dropped the syringe beside him. "No—Leon! Stop it, don't do this!" My words hardly made sense. I didn't care.
Tears burned my eyes as I shook him with desperate force. "Open your eyes, honey, please. Please—please!"
"Kendra..." Jill's voice came soft behind me. Careful. The way people spoke when they were trying not to shatter someone completely. Her hand found my shoulder, lightly pulling me away.
I jerked away from her. "No! He's fine!" I sobbed the words, crying out as pain coursed through my body. Through my stomach and ribs. My arm. My knees. Everywhere. Feeling all of it.
None of it compared to this. Not another body in my arms. Not him.
I ran my fingers through his hair, gasping for air as my tears pattered against his cheeks. "Please, you have to wake up. You have to."
Bishop knelt beside me. "You're bleeding," he spoke gently.
"I don't care." Even I could hardly understand the words. Every part of me felt weak. I folded forward, collapsing against his chest. Pressing my ear against him, desperately trying to find a heartbeat.
But the gunfire and helicopter rotors swallowed everything.
My fingers dug into his ribs, trembling and stiff. An ugly cry tore from my throat. Feeling the weight of the world come crashing down on my shoulders.
Again. This is happening again. How could this be happening again?
It was my fault. All of this is my fault. They're all dead because of me. All of them. Even Leon—
—Movement. Faint. Barely there.
His chest rose against my cheek.
My head snapped up, eyes finding his face. Hope blooming.
For a moment, nothing.
Then, he dragged in a ragged breath. Weak and wet, but a breath. A real one.
My own breath stalled in disbelief, relief hitting so hard it hurt. I scrambled further over him, nearly collapsing on top of his body.
"Leon?"
His arm came up, wrapping around my torso. The dark veins in his skin slowly crept away. When he opened his eyes, their normal color had returned. Slow and dazed, his gaze wandered in a disoriented circle—unfocused, not recognizing anything. And then it landed on me.
My palm found his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into his skin. Little sobs punctuated my every word.
"Hey—hey, you're okay!" I sniffed, an uneasy laugh slipping out.
He groaned. "That was a shitty nap." And then he was sitting up. Too fast, rigid and breathless, dragging me with him.
Warily, he looked down at his own hands. "I'll be damned. That vaccine actually worked."
I nodded, only able to manage a watery smile.
He's okay. He's alive. I didn't fail. I saved him.
His grip on me tightened as his eyes swept over me. Then his expression changed. Relief vanished. Replaced by dawning horror.
"You're bleeding." It wasn't calm. There was concern and even a hint of panic.
I glanced down at myself, finally taking a moment to study my injuries. Not at all prepared for what I saw. Gaping flesh wounds. Pink muscle tissue. Yellow fat.
Still, reality wasn't catching up to me. I blinked at the injuries. Feeling them. Seeing them. Not reacting. I felt numb. Whittled away by too many emotions in such a short time. Or maybe the panic of losing him had washed away any concern for myself.
I looked back at him. "Just a flesh wound." I mumbled.
"Kendra." His voice cracked around my name. "What did you do?" He winced as he pulled away—just enough that he had the space to grab me and look me over.
"I got the vaccine." It was the only explanation I offered.
His hands found my stomach and his face drained of color.
"Jesus Christ—"
Suddenly he was pushing me back, forcing me to lie down across his lap as his hand clamped over the wound.
Too much blood seeped between his fingers immediately. A mixture of panic and anger came over him as his gaze snapped to Piers and Jill. "What the hell happened?"
Piers shifted, gesturing to me. "She stuck her hand down one of those thing's throats. She's brave. And stupid. And probably a little crazy."
Leon stared at me like he couldn't decide whether to yell at me or pull me closer.
Someone—Bishop—grabbed my arm, wrapping fabric tightly around my skin.
"I'll be okay." My voice came soft. "Few hours and it'll be like nothing happened."
He looked down at me like the words physically hurt him. "Shut up." The words came harsh, his only tell that he was upset with me. Ignoring my dismissive remark, he turned to Jill. "Where's Lex?"
"The rest of the crew is a little preoccupied at the moment." Jill looked to the stern, where soldier and agent alike were relentlessly firing at the giant wall of flesh that was supposed to pass for a B.O.W.
I stared at the creature for a second too long. Knowing this was the thing that had been calling to me. That had threatened to take Leon.
I turned to Jill. "Do you have anything bigger than guns?"
"Without taking out the entire ship?" She glanced between the B.O.W. and the crew. There was a moment of silence, the gears working in her head.
Then, without a word, she turned and ran for the aft superstructure.
A taunting laugh echoed over the ship.
I ground my teeth at the sound, looking to the titanic monster and trying to mask every bit of fear I felt.
"Look at what you need to mimic a fraction of my power." Verissimo gargled the words. "All this fire power, and still I stand. I have given humanity the gift of endurance. And still, you resist?"
"You're enslaving them!" I barked back, flinching as pain tore through my stomach.
"With your help, darling!" His voice filled with that feigned gentleness he was so good at. "If it weren't for you, the virus never would have reached such near-perfection. But it's still possible. With you by my side, I can engineer the perfect virus."
Leon shifted in front of me automatically, broad shoulders blocking Verissimo from my sightline. Like if he couldn't kill him, the least he could do was deny him the ability to look at me.
Verissimo's voice filled with disdain. "You can't hide from me forever. Destiny brought us together, Miss Mason." He paused and I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Together again."
My brow knit and I fought hard to remain conscious. What the fuck does that mean?
He laughed as if he could hear my thoughts. "All the people in the world, and you remain immune? Do you believe that to be a coincidence?"
My breaths came quick and shallow, thoughts racing. "What are you..."
"There are no coincidences!" He shouted, making everyone on the ship flinch at the sheer volume of it.
Leon leaned over me, shielding me as the ship rocked and Verissimo's grotesque body slid closer.
"You have always meddled. Always disrupted my plans." He coughed, blood spraying in sheets across the deck.
All at once, I was being dragged. I startled—then calmed when I realized Piers and Bishop were pulling me and Leon further away from harm.
Another laugh. "All that meddling, and here you still stand. Your fate awaiting. Even after all these years."
He'd lost his sanity completely. It was the only explanation.
My fingers curled tighter around Leon's arm as Bishop and Piers dragged us toward the port side of the ship. Leon heaved me into his lap again, one hand clamped over the wound in my stomach, a subtle tremble in his fingers.
"Come with me now," Verissimo continued. "Come willingly, and I won't slaughter all of these innocent people."
"Don't listen to him." Leon murmured down to me.
That same cruel laugh made me flinch. "You almost lost Agent Kennedy once tonight. Are you really willing to gamble his life again?"
Leon held me closer, his fingers tightening in my hair.
"Hey, ugly!" Jill's voice called over the chaos. All eyes snapped to the main mast.
There, in the highest window, was Jill—an RPG-7 mounted on her shoulder. She gritted her teeth, an angry scowl twisting her features.
"Enough fucking talking!"
She pulled the trigger. The rocket launched from the end of the muzzle. Directly into Verissimo's throat.
Everyone dove for cover as the explosive detonated. Leon pulled my head into his stomach, shielding me from the blast.
Verissimo screamed, his titanic form staggering back toward the guardrails.
Jill gave him no time to recover. Another rocket was loaded into the muzzle and launched. This one hit his shoulder—and he tipped off balance.
The ship dipped with his weight. Leon kept his arm tight around my waist, hauling me against him as he held onto the port side rails. We dangled nearly vertical with the deck.
And then the B.O.W. lost its footing. He slipped over the railing, the gaping holes in his body pouring blood into the sea. Then he hit the water.
The ship slammed back into balance, tossing our bodies with harsh violence. A plume of water doused the starboard side of the ship as Verissimo sank into the waves below.
Even as he disappeared into the ocean's depths, that taunting laugh continued to curl around my mind. A promise that I would see him again.
~ ~ ~
Leon
U.S. Army watercrafts flanked either side of the ship. The helicopter landed on the pad of one, its rotors slowing, finally giving us some much needed silence.
Soldiers ran back and forth across the gangways connecting the ships. Carrying away the bodies of the mutated canines while others hauled supplies aboard. Our med bay had been destroyed, and the Army was generous enough to offer us medications we would certainly be needing.
The storm beat against the deck without mercy now, sheets of rain mixing with the blood of the dead canines. Pop-up canopies had been set up across the ship, offering some shelter from the rain only for the medics to tend to the wounded.
Lex and a few Army medics surrounded us on the deck, doing their best to patch us up. Most of the focus was on Kendra, but one man remained glued to me, cleaning the bite in my shoulder and scratches to my ribs. After injecting a localized anesthetic, he got to work stitching some of the deeper wounds together.
But my gaze remained on Kendra. Watching her face. Making sure she didn't drift. Didn't slip away. Shaken by the extent of her injuries.
Lex and another medic were covered in her blood from finger to elbow. Working quickly. Chastising her, though she wasn't listening. Instead, her attention was on the bag of blood a soldier held above her. He gave her a comforting smile, as if she were afraid. She wasn't, but he didn't know that.
A wad of blood-soaked gauze was tossed to the side and Lex shook his head. "She should be dead." He muttered.
"What's wrong with these wounds?" The other medic asked, swiping at her arms.
Lex glanced over. Narrowed his eyes. Laughed, though it wasn't amused. "I fucking knew it."
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing." He answered. "The exact opposite of a problem right now."
That told me all I needed to know. "She's already healing?"
He nodded, face composed. "Fast. She's healing fast."
Kendra sighed. "And here I thought I just really wanted to go to bed."
"Not much of a bed left to sleep on." I sighed, looking back at my hands, just to make sure the infection really was gone.
From a few feet away, Piers shifted. "We have blankets. Supplies. Anything you need." Then he held up a syringe, admiring the vaccine inside. "It's the least we could do after you've given us this."
Lex looked up. He was the one who had given the sample to the U.S. military. "We know it works now. It would be selfish to hold onto it."
Piers nodded. "We're grateful for it."
Lex looked back to his task. "Yeah, well, you should be thanking Kendra. She's been through hell and back just so we could engineer that."
Piers snorted, but dropped down to one knee between us, holding his hand out to Kendra. Weakly, she took his hand, holding his gaze. He gave her a crooked smile.
"You're fucking crazy," an almost fond smile found his face.
A small giggle escaped her.
He shook his head, doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. "Thank you. You'd make a great soldier. You're reckless and stupid," a breath, and his grip tightened on her hand. "But you're brave. And we couldn't have done any of this without you."
Pride warmed my chest. I'd known she was brave. Seeing someone else recognize it hit harder than I expected.
She dragged in a wet breath, eyes growing hazy. "Is that... your way... of showing me respect?" A tired grin.
With an airy laugh, he leaned closer, grabbing her around the elbow. "Don't you ever let anyone look down on you." Then he let go, getting to his feet. "You've got more balls than half the men here."
She winced in pain as the medics continued to work. "It wasn't bravery... that made me do it." At that, her eyes found me. "It was fear."
"It was both." Piers corrected, his voice rough.
She looked back up at him.
"Get some rest." He nodded to her. "You've earned it."
The man tending to me taped the last bandage in place just as Piers stepped back toward me. I quietly thanked him and moved to stand, grunting from the pain.
Without missing a beat, Piers offered me his hand. Reluctantly, I took it, allowing him to help me to my feet.
He looked me up and down, gaze lingering on the bandages to my shoulder and ribs. "I can see why the president thinks so highly of you." A pause. "I have a message from him, by the way."
A sigh scraped out of me before I could help it. "Let's hear it."
"He wants it on record that you have been officially pardoned. You're free to return to your own agency." He looked to the watercraft beside the ship. "We can take you back with us."
I scoffed, shaking my head. On instinct, my gaze went to Kendra. She was already watching me. Waiting. I looked back to Piers.
"I'm good here."
He smirked. "I had a feeling you'd say that." He crossed his arms. "What should I tell President Graham?"
A soldier brushed past pushing a tub of supplies.
"Tell him my mission isn't over yet." I reached over, snagging a plain shirt from the top of the supply tub. Shaking it open, I pulled it over my head, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.
As I adjusted the shirt, I looked back to Kendra. This time, a small smile reflected back at me.
"I have precious cargo that needs to reach the BSAA safely." I added. Then I looked back at him. "Your talents are wasted in the Army."
He shrugged. "I think I've found my calling. I don't mind the special unit. Tracking down terrorists. Helping people. Feels like I'm making a difference."
I gave him a stiff nod. "Yeah. I get that." For a second, I searched for the rest of the crew amongst the chaos. They were nowhere to be found, so I returned my attention to Piers. "You should look into joining the BSAA. They need people who actually give a damn."
He tilted his head. "Not USSTRATCOM?"
I snorted. "No." Maybe I could have elaborated, but I don't think he needed me to.
Looking back at his own ship, Piers gave a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe some day."
That was something I could respect. I nodded. "If you ever do, I can put in a good word with Redfield."
He gave me a small smile. "I appreciate that."
A commotion sounded from the other side of the ship. We both turned at the same time to see Harvey hurrying over, carrying a SATCOM device.
"Comms are back up," he relayed to me, out of breath. "I have no idea how long they were down for, but Captain Redfield has been trying to get in contact with us for hours."
"Leon?" Chris's voice crackled over the speaker.
Without missing a beat, I reached forward, snatching the device from Harvey's hand. "I'm here."
"Heard you got hit tonight by a B.O.W. attack. Casualties?"
"Crew's alive." I answered roughly. "Couple injuries. No losses. We would have been screwed if it hadn't been for the army making a surprise visit."
"The army?" He echoed, incredulous. "The hell are they doing in international waters?"
"Tracking Verissimo, apparently."
There was a pause. "How many men did they lose?"
My gaze went to Piers, who still stood beside me. He shrugged, looking away. "Three MIA. We think they went overboard."
"At least no one got infected." Chris sighed.
My jaw tightened. "Yeah. About that." I turned away from the others, needing some sort of privacy even if all that meant was hiding my face. "I have good news and bad news."
Silence crackled over the line. I could practically picture that exhausted scowl on his face.
I exhaled. "I got bit. By one of those things. Infected with the third strain." My hand flexed at my side. "Good news? Lex's vaccine worked."
Chris's breath scraped out of him. "You should have led with that." A pause. "He developed a vaccine?"
"Yeah. We had five samples. One was used on me. We gave another to the U.S. Army. We still have three in our possession."
He laughed in disbelief. "I'll be damned. How many batches can Lex cook up?"
From a few feet away, the medic looked up. "Zero." He answered immediately. "The B.O.W.s destroyed the lab. The med bay. Everything. All I have are the drugs the army replenished for us."
Chris cursed. "Better keep those samples safe. Try not to use them." There was a moment of hesitation. "How's Mason? She's okay?"
At her name, my gaze found her. Only then did I realize she was knocked out, her chest rising with slow, steady breaths. Lex and the army medic still worked quickly, getting the bleeding under control little by little.
"She was injured." I answered numbly.
Static crackled. "How bad?"
"Bad. But, Lex said she's healing fast. So... that's good." I dragged a hand through my hair.
"She's not just healing fast." Lex interjected. "Her regeneration time is incredible." He shook his head. "These injuries are less than an hour old. They were deep, but they're almost closed."
I almost expected Chris to mention how helpful that might be for the mission. Instead—
"Lucky girl."
"Reckless is more like it." I mumbled.
He sighed. "I don't even want to know."
"Probably better you don't."
The speaker crackled again. "Thanks for the update. I look forward to the full report when you reach dry land. Try to keep Mason from killing herself."
"Copy." I grumbled, handing the device back to Harvey.
As the engineer trailed away from the makeshift infirmary tent, I turned my attention back on Kendra. She was still asleep. Less pale than before. Eerily calm.
At some point, Harbor had snuck over. He laid a few feet away from her, watching her just as closely as I was. I had no idea where the dog had been the last hour, but it didn't matter.
"How's she holding up?" I asked Lex. He was by himself now, the other medic gone.
He let out a breathy laugh. "She's great. Phenomenal, actually. Vitals are stable. Bleeding has slowed. If she keeps healing at this pace, I'd say she'll be good as new by midnight."
I crossed my arms. "Good."
He chanced a glance up at me. "She's sleeping because her body is working ten times harder than usual. Not because we're losing her. She's fine."
"I believe you." My tone came flat.
Lex placed another Steri-Strip over a wound in her arm, pulling the tabs until both sides of her skin were reunited. "You're mad at her."
I said nothing.
He huffed. "Guess you can hash things out between yourselves. Wouldn't want to get in between your little lover's quarrel."
I rolled my eyes. "Shut the hell up."
"Who do you think you're fooling?" He rose a brow. "Both of you do a shit job of hiding whatever it is that's going on between you."
"There's nothing going on." My voice came steady and low.
"Right." It was wholly unconvinced. Another adhesive strip was applied to her skin. "Well, try not to be too mad at her. She saved the vaccine. And she saved you. We could have lost everything tonight. And it's only because of her that we didn't."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks" I snapped.
He seemed to think better of responding. Smart. If he said something else, I might not be able to stop myself from punching him. And for the first time since I met him, he didn't entirely deserve it. With a few last touches, he finished patching her up and got to his feet. As he brushed past me, he mumbled about making himself useful elsewhere.
A flash of blue in my peripheral grabbed my attention. I turned in time to see Jill, holding out a stack of blankets to me.
"This is all we have right now." She pressed the blankets into my chest and nodded to Kendra. "Army medics told me the injured need to keep warm."
Grabbing the blankets from her, I stepped closer to Kendra and knelt beside her. She didn't stir once as I draped a blanket over her. Tucking it around her. Gentle with her in spite of the vexation teeming beneath the surface. As I did so, Harbor shuffled closer, resting his head on her chest.
Jill folded her arms, giving me a look. "You too, Zombie boy. Blanket."
"I'm not in the mood for your dumb comments." The words scraped out of me, sounding as exhausted as I felt.
"Whatever. Bundle up. Captain's orders."
Just to get her off my back, I grabbed a blanket and yanked it over my shoulders. For some reason, I thought that would convince her to walk away. Instead, she lingered.
"We have a clean up crew on the lower deck," she explained without prompt. "Once the door is fixed on her room, she can go to bed."
"That room is destroyed." I said without looking at her.
"It was. Bishop and Rook scrubbed it down. We replaced the bedding with the blankets the army gave us."
I nodded. Part of me wanted to reach for Kendra, but I refrained. "That was nice of them."
Jill sighed. "You've had a long night. You should rest."
"Thanks for the suggestion." I muttered, hiking the blanket further up my shoulder.
The truth was, even if I did have somewhere I could comfortably rest, I doubted I would. There was far too much on my mind. Kendra. Verissimo. The mission. The virus. I could at least guarantee that I wouldn't be sleeping until Kendra woke up again. Until I knew for sure that she really was okay.
Because in all the time I had known her—through gunshots, blood loss, even the torture—none of those injuries were as bad as the ones I'd seen tonight. She wasn't even aware she'd been nearly eviscerated. But I was. The image of it made me sick. And maybe her ability to heal so quickly was a miracle, but it felt untrustworthy. Something my mind refused to understand. Because I'd held my hand over the wound. I'd seen it. How was I supposed to understand that she was simply okay after that?
"Are you okay?" Jill asked, stepping up beside me. Her face was full of concern. Like she could hear my thoughts.
My fingers tugged at the hem of her blanket. Restless and aching to feel her skin. Needing to make sure she was warm.
"Never better." I mumbled.
~ ~ ~
Kendra
September 24, 2005 — Saturday
It was just after one in the morning when I was finally allowed to retreat to the officer's quarters. We'd managed to wash off most of the blood and grime in the working showers, now donning army sweats and t-shirts from the supply bins.
Leon trailed after me through the lower deck, helping to get me situated despite the fact that he was more injured than I was. At least, now he was. All that remained of my injuries were white scars that hardly stood out against my skin.
That didn't matter to him. He was more clingy than normal. Which I didn't entirely mind. The events of the evening had terrified me. There wasn't much point in saying that out loud. Anyone who wasn't terrified after that was either stupid or inhuman.
The door was harder to open now. It didn't fit right in the frame. Still dented. The handle shifted loosely in the bore hole. I braced for whatever waited for me on the other side, but everything had been put back together—like nothing had happened.
The wardrobe door was screwed back into place. The desk was righted and placed back against the wall. The clothes were hung back on their hangers. Even the blood had been scrubbed from the floor and walls. The room even smelled clean. Bleach and seawater trying desperately to mask what had happened here. All that remained were the claw marks in the steel walls. Proof that something uncanny had been here.
Harbor wouldn't pass through the threshold. He stayed rooted to the hall outside the door, staring in and whining. I couldn't tell if he was still traumatized from the monsters attacking us here, or if he was simply adamant about keeping watch and not letting anything in again.
The moment I stepped into the room, I felt the same. My chest seized, every breath hard to drag in. I turned back around immediately, running straight into Leon's chest. Somehow forgetting that he was there.
He grunted at the impact, hand finding my upper back.
"Wrong way." He muttered.
I stepped back, looking up into his face. "I think I wanna sleep out there tonight."
"You want my hammock?" He asked, confused.
I waved my hand. "No, I'm perfectly fine on the floor."
"The floor?"
I nodded.
"The steel floor?"
I shrugged. "Couple blankets, I'll be fine."
With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed me by my shoulders and turned me back around. "You're not sleeping on the floor."
My hand closed around the doorknob, clinging to it with an unrelenting grip. He stopped before he could push me any further, his grip softening.
"I'm not tired." I said quickly, pulling away from him. "I can help with clean up."
"Lex ordered you on bed rest." He argued.
"Since when do you listen to a damn thing Lex has to say? I can help. I want to help."
"There's not much left to do. The guys are fixing up the broken doors around the ship. They don't need you for that."
"There's always something to do."
"Kendra, it's one o' clock in the morning. You were just attacked by a mutant dog. You need to lay down."
"I'm fine. I'm more than fine. Not even a bruise."
"Would you just listen to me?" He snapped suddenly. "Your job is to stay out of harm's way. So for just once, can you do that?"
I snapped my mouth shut, shrinking back. Silence fell between us and anger burned in his eyes. Clear and impossible to ignore.
My voice dropped, impossibly quiet. "I don't want to be alone in here. I'm scared." The confession scraped out of me. Raw and honest. Far more direct than usual.
His jaw worked, holding my gaze. Then he sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "You won't be alone. Harbor will be here with you."
"That's not the same and you know it."
He took a breath, reining himself in. "I'll be right down the hall. Nothing is going to happen."
I threw my hands up, opening my mouth to argue. No sound came out. Emotion knotted my throat and I looked away quickly. It took me a long time to swallow it down.
"How are you not scared?" I whispered. "How can you just get back to it like nothing happened?"
"Who said I wasn't?" He held his ground, remaining stern. "All of this shit? It's terrifying. But I can't sit here and let it control me. Not when there's still a mission at hand."
Frustration clawed at my throat. "That's what this always boils down to. The fucking mission."
He stared at me, hurt reflecting in his eyes. "I almost lost you tonight."
"Yeah, you've made it abundantly clear how important it is that you don't fail that part of your job."
His expression faltered. "I'm not talking about the mission. I almost lost you."
"And I almost lost you." I snapped.
Surprise flashed across his face and he took a step back.
I continued like I didn't notice. "You stopped breathing. You're not the only one worried about failing. I did everything I could and for a second... for a second I thought that was it."
"That's the problem." His voice came harsh and sharp. "The extremes you went to just to get that vaccine? If you couldn't heal so fast, you'd be dead right now. For what? To save me?"
"Because that's just so asinine, right?" Frustration oozed through the sarcasm.
"This mission isn't about me." His voice roughened. "It's about you. Keeping you alive."
"I couldn't let you die."
"At the cost of your own life? Without you, millions of people die. My life isn't the one that matters here."
"It matters to me!" I tossed a flippant hand in his direction. "Stop being so fucking self sacrificial for once."
Something flashed in his eyes. He reached forward, grabbing my hand and tugging me into the room. The door closed roughly behind me, sealing us in the privacy of the room.
I wasn't afraid when he took a step closer. He was angry, but he wasn't going to hurt me.
He lowered his voice, steadying his breathing. "This is exactly what can't happen. You can't put yourself in danger for me." His jaw flexed. "I know you care. I know that. But danger is in the job description. And you can't risk yourself to protect me from my own line of work."
A painful laugh tore from my chest. "It's too late for that. You needed help. I couldn't sit there and do nothing." My breath broke, hands shaking. "Because you're not just an agent or a bodyguard or a fucking business partner. You're—"
"Don't say it." He shook his head.
My shoulders sagged in defeat. "It's true, whether I say it or not." Every breath came ragged. "And you feel it too."
He looked away from me.
"I'm not like you," I continued. "I can't pretend. No amount of silence will make this go away."
The quiet stretched between us. Agonizing and painful.
He tried to look at me and failed. His eyes remained on the ground, voice nothing more than a whisper.
"It will." The words scraped out of him. "With time, it will. It will pass."
Neither of us believed it. But a part of my soul felt as though it had been crushed anyway.
"No. It won't," my voice came quiet and small. "Not for me."
He still refused to look at me.
I took a step closer to him, every breath labored. "You can keep pretending. But when you dragged me out of that wardrobe," I pointed at it with anger, "you were terrified. And it wasn't because you thought you'd failed your mission."
Emotion filled his face. He dragged a hand over his mouth, desperately trying to force it back down.
"You don't have to say it. But you're not fooling anyone." A pause. "Least of all yourself."
His eyes finally lifted to mine. And there it was. Not denial. Not distance. Not professionalism.
Fear. It wasn't fear of Verissimo. Or the virus. Or dying. It was fear of this.
"Do you think I haven't noticed what's happening here?" The words came rough and low. Frayed at the edges.
I fell silent.
He laughed once, but there was nothing amused about it. He paced a step away from me, then back again, restless energy radiating off him.
"Getting so personally involved with you? It's compromised my judgment. Which compromises survival. If I had been thinking like an agent tonight, you never would have been left alone in the first place."
"Leon—"
"I'm supposed to protect people," he continued quietly. "That's the job. But with you..." His throat bobbed. "Somewhere along the line, it stopped being professional."
I held his gaze. "Do you honestly think you can walk it back now?"
For a second, he looked like he might answer. Then his eyes dropped to my lips. And everything in him broke. Not loudly or dramatically, but quietly. The kind of breaking that came from holding too much in for far too long.
I watched his restraint crack in real time. Watched the fight happening behind his eyes. Devastation weighed on his entire being.
Then, finally—
"No."
I promised myself I wouldn't do this again. Swore that if anything were to happen between us, then he would have to make the first move. Not me. But my pride vanished. Because I couldn't bear the way he was looking at me. Like I was all he wanted. And still he refused himself.
With one step, I closed the distance between us. Tilted my head back. Stared into those blue eyes. He didn't move away. Didn't put the space back between us.
We were close enough now that I could feel his breath in my skin. And for a moment, I was back on that deck, begging him to open his eyes. Begging him to be alive. And I just couldn't fucking take it anymore.
He wouldn't let me say it aloud. But there were more ways than one to make sure he got the message.
I pushed onto the tips of my toes, and paused. Lingered centimeters away, giving him a chance to pull away. He didn't, heavy lids pulling his gaze down—trained on my mouth.
Then, tentatively, I brushed my lips across the corner of his.
His restraint broke.
His knuckles grazed my throat before his fingers slipped into the hair at the base of my neck. Without warning, he tugged me against him, and his mouth crashed against mine.
We kissed each other like we'd been deprived. Like we might not get another chance to. My hand found his chest, palm pressed against the steady rhythm of his heart. Each beat a reminder that I hadn't lost him tonight. That he was still here.
His hand found my stomach, slipping beneath the fabric of my shirt and tracing my newest scar like he was thinking the same thing. Like he needed to be sure that I was really okay.
He peppered fevered kisses against my lips, hand slipping from my stomach to my waist. Fingers gripping me tightly. With a trembling breath, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Fuck," he breathed the word, nudging my face with his nose. "That can't happen again."
Confusion rattled my brain, thinking he must be talking about the kiss.
Instead, both of his hands gently brushed over the scars in my skin. My stomach and arm. Almost reverent. Almost frantic. Like if he stopped touching me for even a second, he'd look down and find blood all over his hands again.
"Don't do that again." He pleaded with me.
I opened my mouth—
He shook his head. "Don't argue. Lie if you have to."
I'd never seen him like this before. So shaken. So unsteady. Suddenly, defending my actions and proving my point didn't matter anymore. This was about what he needed. Right here and right now.
So I nodded, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. "It won't happen again." I whispered.
He swallowed, slipping his hands up my back and holding me against him. I melted into his arms, trembling despite myself. With a shaky exhale, he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. And another. The third one he didn't pull away from. He buried his face into my hair, drawing in a long, relieved breath.
I knew the feeling. Tonight had been difficult for both of us. And as much as I didn't regret saving him, I did regret scaring him.
"Come on," I cooed into his ear. "Let's go to bed. We need some sleep."
He sighed, drawing back. "I should go back to the main quarters."
"Please stay." My fingers curled in his shirt.
With an amused breath, he tucked my hair behind my ear, cradling my face into his palm. "You need me to sleep above you that bad?" He looked to the top bunk.
"No. Not there."
His lips twitched. "Small bunks."
"We'll fit," I argued. "Besides, I won't enforce the pillow barrier."
He didn't seem convinced. His gaze flicked between me and the bottom bunk. Considering it. For a moment, I thought he might insist on the distance again.
But his fingers tightened around my shoulders. Reluctant to let go. And he nodded.
"Okay." He looked me up and down. "Is that what you're sleeping in?"
I lifted my arms, looking down at the sweats and t-shirt the army had given me. The same outfit he wore.
I gave him a teasing smile. "What? Worried we'll be recruited in our sleep?"
Tired amusement softened the tension still lingering in his face. "Figured you'd want your own clothes." He paused, looking down at himself. "Not to brag, but I pull it off better."
He was fishing for a reaction. With a breathy laugh, I retreated toward the bunk, holding onto his hand.
"You do."
The mischief bled away, replaced by something softer. He followed me to the bunk, flicking off the light as we went. The room plummeted into darkness.
As I neared the bunk, his hand found the back of my head, protecting it as he guided me under the metal bar. It wasn't a necessary gesture. I would have found the mattress just fine. But there was something sweet about the effort.
I scooted against the wall, making room for him, and he slid onto the bunk without issue. Just like he said, there was little room for me. So I cozied against him.
He folded me under his arm, holding me against his ribs. As if I'd done it a thousand times before, I draped a leg over him, fitting us together in the small space. When we both had settled, he turned his face toward me, pressing his lips to the crown of my head.
As we laid together in the dark and quiet, listening to each other's even breaths, I couldn't help but feel a sense of content that had been missing since we stepped on that beach together.
His fingers traced absent circles against my ribs. I left gentle scratches over his chest.
And after the events of the night, it was really the only way either of us would have gotten any sleep.
Summary: 10,876 words // whump, angst, heavy angst, hurt/ comfort, darkfic
Author's Note: Content Warning! Graphic description of violence, body horror, graphic description of bodily injury, dead bodies, psychological horror, body gore, gun fight, DOG DOESN'T DIE!!!
>Chapter 33
Chapter 32:
Kendra
September 23, 2005 — Friday
Bishop and Rook wrestled on the rug in front of the couch. The mess room was alive with chatter today. Somewhere on the other side of the room, Harvey and Mouse played chess. Jill, Owen, and Wraith were gathered around a table, playing cards and having what looked like a serious conversation. Lex was the only one who was absent, still engrossed in his task of creating a vaccine.
I threaded my fingers through Harbor's fur, who slept beside me on the couch. Leon sat on my other side. Every once in a while, his knee would brush mine. Urging me to look at him.
I always would. He would tilt his head at me, as if he wanted me to say something. But I wasn't feeling talkative today.
After the infection had passed, the intensity of the voice in the ocean had decreased. It came less often. Less loud. Harder to understand. And since the signal only occasionally went out now, it would have been paranoid to insist that whatever I was hearing was responsible for the signal blocking.
Bishop tumbled against the couch, crushing my legs. Saying nothing, I folded my feet under myself, leaning my elbow on the arm of the couch and laying over Harbor. The dog didn't seem to mind me invading his personal space.
"Sorry, Kendra." Bishop laughed, rolling away.
I gave him a smile but didn't respond, resting my chin in my palm. Returning my gaze to the wall, where I stared at nothing in particular.
It was easier than looking at them. Easier than wondering what my life was going to look like two weeks from now. Would it all be laboratory walls? Cold rooms?
No. I didn't want to think about that. I'd have plenty of time to think about it when the time came. For now, I had very little time left to enjoy my freedom. But I couldn't enjoy it. Couldn't enjoy their laughter. Their warmth. Their careless banter. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But focusing on it made me just as sad as everything else.
Leon shifted beside me. "Are you hungry?"
I shook my head. Just the thought of food made me nauseous.
He didn't say anything at first, following my gaze to the empty spot on the wall. When he looked back at me, he studied my face a bit closer.
"You skipped breakfast. And dinner last night." Then, softer, "you hardly touched your lunch yesterday."
I shrugged, still saying nothing. Somewhere in the distance, the ocean whispered to me. Low and threatening.
A gentle finger stroked my shoulder, begging me to look at him instead of the wall. I relented, dropping my cheek into my hand.
He kept his voice quiet so only I could hear. "Will you please eat something?"
Releasing a breath, I looked him up and down. I only had two weeks left with Leon. It made everything else feel smaller. Even him. Even the way he'd pulled away from me before. It felt... juvenile now. Like I'd been worried about the wrong thing.
I didn't want him to go. Didn't want to never see him again. Even if all I ever got from him was a lingering look across the room, it was infinitely better than nothing.
Two weeks. That's all I would get. No more of his homemade pasta. No more carefully made tea or dryer-warmed blankets. No more gentle touches to get my attention or his stupid jokes always made at the worst possible time.
My eyes went glassy, room suddenly becoming blurry. I blinked away the tears before they could fall.
"I'll eat if you make me something." I compromised.
Concern tugged at his lips. "Okay. Anything you're craving?"
"I don't care. Just as long as you make it." While you still can.
Giving a nod, he got to his feet. "Okay. I'll be back."
A frown found my face as I sat up, speaking before I had even thought about it.
"Wait—" I paused and he turned, looking back at me expectantly. Setting my feet back on the ground, I wriggled until Harbor moved his head from my lap.
"Can I come with you?"
With so little time left, I didn't want to waste any of it.
A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I'm not your parole officer."
The joke loosened the tension in my chest. Just a little. I quickly shoved my feet into my slippers and followed him from the mess room. Harbor jumped down from the couch and trailed after us.
I was vaguely aware of the eyes of everyone else, pinned on us as we slipped into the hall.
It was a short trek to the kitchen. The noise from the mess faded behind us, leaving something quieter. A type of privacy I had been missing for days.
Harbor found a place by the sink and dropped down, falling asleep almost instantly. Like nothing had changed.
Leon raided every cupboard and shelf until he found where the dry foods were stored. I climbed up onto the counter by the sink, swinging my legs over the edge as he surveyed his options and eventually picked out ingredients.
I watched him move around the kitchen, like this was just another day. Like I'd get a hundred more of these.
"How much noodles do you think I'd have to make for ten people?" he asked, a bag of penne in hand.
I reached over and plucked an apple from the basket beside me before snagging a steak knife from the block.
"A lot, probably," I mumbled, cutting a slice.
"That's helpful, thanks."
I tapped the dull edge of the knife to my forehead. "Captain obvious, at your service." Bending over, I held out the slice to Harbor.
He didn't hesitate, waking up and sniffing out the fruit with piqued interest. He took it without a second thought.
Leon clicked his tongue, reaching over and plucking the knife from my grip. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
"Me? The rapid healer? Injured? What a nightmare," I smirked, handing over the apple.
"No sane person puts steak knives near their eyes on a moving ship." He sliced it properly.
"I'm your baseline for sanity, actually," I teased, holding out my hands as he passed the slices back.
He dropped the knife into the sink, rinsing his fingers. "Debatable."
I snickered, feeding Harbor the rest.
As he searched for pots, pans, and utensils, I remained rooted to the counter, watching his every move. Admiring him as he navigated the kitchen.
He filled a pot with water. Set it on the stove. The burner clicked and lit. As he opened the boxes of ingredients, he passed a glance my way.
"So, you like my cooking that much, huh?"
The joke slipped out naturally. "You'd make an excellent house wife."
A breathy laugh. "Too bad I went into bioterrorism." A pause, head tilting. "And, you know, I'm a man."
"Well aware." I smiled, looking down at my hands so I wouldn't have to look at him. The memory of us together a few nights ago, his hands under my shirt, hit me all at once. Just the thought of it made my cheeks burn.
I needed to banish it. That couldn't happen again. It wouldn't happen again. Leon had made that clear. It was for the better, anyway. Once we reached the UK, we would part ways.
Right?
I peered up at him. His arms flexed as he carefully sliced cloves of garlic.
"Leon?"
"Kendra?" He arched a brow at me.
I blew out a breath. "That girl. Sherry. You know her, right?"
He sobered at the name, nodding stiffly. "Yeah."
"What happened? I mean... why is she in U.S. custody? Is it because she's like me? Because she can heal fast?"
Leon's jaw tightened. "That's not the reason. No."
"So, why?"
He wouldn't look at me. There was a long silence.
"I never wanted to be a federal agent." He said suddenly, pushing away the slices of garlic. He reached for Calabrian chiles, chopping them with expert precision. "Killing people. Watching people die. That wasn't why I became a cop."
He glanced at me. "But I did it for her. For Sherry. And Claire."
My brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
He sighed. "The three of us? We were in Raccoon City together. There weren't many survivors, but there was us. And Sherry? She almost died from the infection. But Claire gave her a vaccine. Stopped the virus from turning her into one of those... one of those things."
I waited, refusing to interrupt.
A deep sort of sadness weighed on his shoulders. "When the government showed up, they wanted me for my survival skills. Thought I would be a valuable top-secret agent. I wasn't given much of a choice. They said they would protect Sherry if I joined the agency." He took a deep breath. "She was only twelve. Both of her parents were dead. She was on her own."
His gaze remained glued to the cutting board. "They sterilized the city after that. Thousands of people. Innocent people. People we could have saved. People we should have." His voice became rough. "I lost all faith in the government after that. I knew what they called protection over Sherry would never be anything good. But there wasn't anything I could do about it."
"Did you know?" I asked. "That they made her a test subject?"
"I had my suspicions. But I'm not exactly permitted regular visits to check on her. They keep me busy. With these missions. Make sure I don't have time to ask questions."
The words weighed heavy on my chest. I directed my attention to the other side of the kitchen, losing myself in thought. That voice no one else could hear moaned quietly from outside the hull.
Leon continued to cook. Tomatoes went into boiled water. Blanched. Crushed. Made into paste.
My head found the wall. "If I had asked you to, would you have let me go somewhere else?" I watched his hands as he worked. "You know, if I said I didn't want to go to the BSAA?"
His movements slowed. "Where would you have gone instead?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere I wouldn't just be... an asset."
The ocean's voice shifted. Not louder, just clearer.
Like it approved.
"You're asking if I would have let you run?"
"Yeah. If you knew I would end up like Sherry. Would you have let me run?"
He emptied the penne into boiling water. "I'm not a bounty hunter. If you had run, I'd have no reason to go after you."
I hummed. "Do you think the BSAA will be any better?"
"Than the U.S. government?"
"Yeah."
He took a long time to answer.
"...I don't know." A pause. "Would you rather go home? Back to the U.S.?"
My fingers worried at a thread in my pants. "Do you remember when you told me you'd bring me home?"
He stirred the penne noodles slowly, gaze flicking to mine. "Yes."
I let out a breath. "I don't think you need to worry about that anymore. I mean, when I think about it—I don't actually have a home. Not anymore."
Those blue eyes held me softly, just for a moment, before dropping back to the pot. "You don't want to go back to the U.S.?"
I shrugged. "I'm just an asset now. Doesn't matter where I go. There isn't a life waiting for me. Not a real one."
He stopped. The spoon hit the side of the pot with a dull clink.
"So that's it?" he said. "Just like that?"
"What?" I blinked, caught off guard. I hadn't expected that.
He pushed the spoon aside, frustration bleeding into the movement. "You've been fighting this whole time, Kendra. Every step of the way. And now you're just—what? Done?"
He gestured vaguely, jaw tight. "You can't let them turn you into that. You're not just an asset."
His gaze locked onto mine. "They need you. Not the other way around." A beat. "Don't forget that."
Before I could stop it, a breathy laugh slipped out of me. "So I should negotiate with them?"
He tilted his head at me. The way he always did. "You're a citizen of the United States. I can take you back whenever you want. Use that. If the BSAA really needs you, they'll take that into consideration.
Another laugh. "You want me to bluff?"
"They don't need to know they're the better option. They just need to think you can walk away. Make them understand that if they want something from you, they have to earn it."
I stared at him. Searching for sincerity. Hoping he believed what he was saying as much as I wanted to. Because he had just handed me a way to fight back. Which meant everything at the moment. The world had been feeling bleaker than ever. And here comes Leon with a strategy I hadn't considered.
"You'd really wait with me?" I asked. "Even if I'm stuck here for a while. You'd wait and take me back if I asked?"
He softened, crossing the few steps between us and leaning against the counter next to me. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Your mission was to keep me alive." I argued. "Get me to the BSAA safely. Once we reach the UK, then your mission is complete."
His hand brushed mine on the counter—lingering just a second longer than it needed to. "It's not about the mission." A pause, his voice lowering. "It hasn't been for a while."
I wanted to reach for him. Wanted to do more than that. Instead, my eyes went to the boiling pot.
"You're gonna ruin your noodles."
He let out an amused breath and pushed off the counter, hand brushing my thigh—just barely. Then he returned to the pot.
"So, are you too good for ship food now?" His tone came lighter. "Or is my food just superior?"
We were back to this. A break in the tension we'd accidentally built. That was fine. I'd indulge him.
"I like your cooking." I said simply. "So don't ruin it."
He nodded at me. "Yes, ma'am."
I didn't miss the little smirk that tugged at his lips.
~ ~ ~
I shoveled another mouthful of the dish into my mouth, suddenly feeling just how hungry I really was.
"What is this?" I asked through the bite.
"Penne all'Arrabbiata." Leon answered, watching me as he dried his hands with a towel. "Do you like it?"
"Fuck." I cursed, rolling my eyes as I savored the flavor. "Your talents are wasted at USSTRATCOM."
The left corner of his mouth twitched. "Are you saying I'm a better cook than agent?"
I scoffed, taking another bite. "It was a compliment, not an insult."
He tossed the towel aside. "Maybe I was trying to get you to compliment me again."
"Didn't know you needed my praise."
An amused breath. "It's better than your insults."
"You make it sound like I'm always insulting you."
"I must have imagined all the times you've told me I'm not funny."
I met his eye, dropping my voice into a teasing tone. "So sensitive."
He lowered his chin, giving me a pointed look. "Right. Just what every man wants to hear."
I chewed my next bite thoroughly, watching him with a fond smile I couldn't smother. When I swallowed, I held eye contact. "I do think you're funny. It's just so much more entertaining to tease you."
He leaned back against the counter, holding a hand to his ear. "What was that? I didn't catch what you said."
I shoved him playfully. He barely swayed, grinning as his hip found the counter again.
"You should find some other way to entertain yourself." He shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
I opened my arms, indicating to the ship. "Because I have so many places to go and so many things to do."
"The sarcasm is noted." He blew out a breath, stifling a laugh. His gaze flicked to Harbor. "You could try training your terrible dog."
Without missing a beat, I grabbed a noodle from my plate and threw it at him. He chuckled, ducking out of my line of fire.
"He's a great dog." I looked down at him, noting how he slept peacefully below my feet, completely trusting that I wouldn't jump off the counter onto him. "Look, he's not even begging or anything."
Leon admired him for a moment, quirking a brow. I thought he might stoop down to pet him, but his gaze returned to me. "So what are you gonna do with him when we get to the UK?"
I frowned. The last few days on this ship had been so hectic that I hadn't once stopped to think about that. After thinking it over for a moment, I shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he'll be part of my negotiations."
He gave a small, bittersweet laugh. "Try not to get your hopes up. Can't imagine there are a lot of dog parks around the BSAA headquarters."
My lips twisted—first into a small smile, and then into a frown. "You're probably right. If I love something, I don't usually get to keep it."
It was weird, the way those words had slipped out so casually. The way they hit me hard in the chest a second after I said them.
Whatever joke Leon was about to tell died quickly. His arms dropped, like he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with them. Still unsure, he took a step closer.
"Maybe we can work something out." He murmured. Then he nodded to my plate. "Finish your food. Before it gets cold."
I pursed my lips awkwardly, stabbing my fork into the pasta. It was harder to look at him now. "What about the rest of the crew? Won't their food get cold?"
"I haven't served them yet." He shrugged.
"I must be special." A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Well, out of everyone on this ship, you're my favorite." He said it like it was joke, but we both knew it was the truth. The fondness in his eye gave him away.
"You're also the only one who hasn't eaten in over a day," he recovered quickly, snapping his fingers. "Come on, you better eat at least half of it."
I saluted with the fork, getting pasta sauce on my skin. "Yes, sir."
His lips twitched, failing to keep an amused little smile from his face. Then he stepped closer, hips pressed lightly into my knees. His hand came up without much thought—thumb brushing just above my brow.
I stilled.
"You've got a little—" he muttered, more to himself than me, swiping a streak of sauce from my skin. His hand lingered a second too long.
Our eyes met. He didn't pull away right away. Didn't seem to notice he hadn't.
My breath caught. Then, like he realized it all at once, his hand dropped.
"You're making a mess." He mumbled, gaze flicking ever so briefly to my lips.
My cheeks heated, but I couldn't look away. Neither could he.
"Yeah," I whispered, allowing my attention to drop to his mouth. "I'm good at that."
The sound of heavy boots on steel pulled our attention toward the hall.
Leon stepped back immediately, and I leaned away, pretending we hadn't just been inches apart.
The last person I expected stepped into the room.
"There you are," Lex said, blissfully unaware of what he almost witnessed. "I think I did it."
I jammed my fork into my food just to look busy. "Did what?" My heart raced like I'd been caught doing something wrong.
I didn't look at Leon.
Lex held up a test tube. A blue liquid glimmered within the vial. "A working vaccine."
The moment Lex said working vaccine, something shifted. The voice didn't rise. It sharpened. Not a whisper this time. A hum. Low. Steady.
Irritated. Like a rattlesnake.
It took everything in me to pretend I didn't hear it.
Leon folded his arms across his chest, posture tightening. "Are you sure it works?"
The medic pocketed the tube. "It definitely works against V-Alpha. Using the virus sample Kendra provided and the blood samples the crew gave, I can confidently say it neutralizes the virus in anyone who isn't already immune."
"What about the other two strains?" I raised a brow.
He sighed. "I don't have access to samples of those two. Luckily, the bone marrow I collected from you had antibodies for all three strains, so there's a strong chance the vaccine will work against them. But I wasn't able to test it."
I should have felt relieved. Perhaps I did, but not enough to explain why I was feeling apprehensive.
I offered him a tight smile, fixing my gaze to my plate. "That's great, Lex. Good job."
His restless footsteps faltered. "I thought you'd be happy?"
"I am." Still, I didn't look up from my food, shoveling a pitiful amount of pasta into my mouth.
He exhaled, leaning against the wall. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I nodded to the pot on the stove. "Lunch is ready. You should eat something."
Leon took the hint before Lex did, turning to serve him a plate. Both men remained silent. When Leon was finished, he turned and shoved the plate into Lex's hand, giving him a look that practically screamed at him to get lost.
He didn't take the hint. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"You're interrupting, actually." Leon clipped. He nodded to the door. "Maybe you could tell the rest of the crew lunch is ready."
Lex's gaze flickered between us, expression carefully neutral. Then he nodded and turned away. "Alright."
We both watched him leave, heading directly for the mess hall with his plate in hand. When his footsteps faded completely, Leon looked back at me.
"You alright?"
I set my plate on the counter, slowly sliding off and carefully stepping over Harbor. "I think I'm gonna go sit in my room for a while. I don't really feel like socializing right now."
I barely made it two steps when his hand closed around my wrist, catching me.
"Kendra."
Pausing, I turned and looked up at him. He grabbed my plate from the counter, handing it back to me, far gentler than he'd been with Lex. "Finish your lunch while you're in there."
Carefully, I pulled my hand out of his grasp and patted his chest. "Sure."
Before I could move away, his fingers caught mine, holding me there. A calloused thumb stroked the top of my knuckles. "You're gonna be okay." His voice dropped, a whisper between us. "You hear me?"
My fingers curled into his shirt. For a moment, I just stared into those blue eyes, allowing them to give me some comfort.
The urge hit before I could think better of it. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek into his chest. He startled, not expecting the contact. But he didn't push me away. Instead, he brought his other hand up, cradling the back of my head.
I listened to the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear. Realizing only then how much I'd missed the sound. Before I could do something reckless, I pulled away, giving him a small smile.
"I trust you." The words were barely a whisper.
He let me pull my hand free from his, though I could see in his eyes he didn't want me to go. Nothing else was said between us.
So, I turned and left. Harbor followed. Leon stayed where he was. My footsteps echoed through the hall as I found my way back to the officer's quarters.
This time, I didn't close the door. Didn't lock it. I left it open. Just in case he came looking for me.
~ ~ ~
Leon
September 23, 2005 — Friday
Storm clouds hid the sunset, throwing the evening into early darkness. The smell of rain mixed with salt water, leaving the air thick with moisture.
The crew had decided to move to the upper deck an hour ago, all of us playing another game of cards. I hadn't been paying attention to the game for the last ten minutes.
The decision to play out in the open hardly made sense to me. Once the rain decided to batter us, the cards would be ruined. Apparently, these people went out of their way to stress themselves out. Guess that made sense since they'd been on the sea for four weeks with not much else to do.
Bishop slapped a card down on the table, eyes trained on his hand. "Someone should go get Kendra. She likes playing with us."
"She doesn't feel like socializing." I said, a little sharper than I meant to.
He blew out a breath. "So we let her pout? She needs company. Not isolation."
I didn't respond to that. Mostly because I agreed with it, but I couldn't say that out loud without it feeling like some sort of betrayal.
The table rocked as I set my card down.
"I don't know," Rook mumbled. "Kendra played cards a few times in the infirmary, but I wouldn't say she enjoyed it."
Bishop's gaze flicked my way. "You know her better than we do. What does she like to do?"
I snorted. "What? You're gonna throw her a party now?"
"Unfortunately I don't have any balloons, but the suggestion is noted."
"I was being sarcastic."
"Well aware." He laughed, looking to Rook, who took his time selecting a card to place down.
"You could try answering a question without being sarcastic?" Harvey suggested timidly. He was still uncertain about me after I had yelled at him.
With an unamused laugh, I leaned back in my chair. "She likes playing Battleship."
Bishop laughed obnoxiously. "Carrying Battleship on a military ship is just negligent. You're trying to jinx yourself at that point."
"I'll let her know you don't approve of her taste of board games." I responded dryly.
"What's she upset about anyway?" Bishop kicked Harvey, urging him to lay his card down.
"I don't gossip." I muttered.
"If you took two seconds to use your brain," Rook interjected, "maybe you could figure it out on your own."
He held his hands up in surrender. "Woah. Touched a nerve there."
Rook sighed, shaking his head as Bishop laid down another card. "I normally have patience for your stupidity—"
"First of all, you never have patience for my stupidity." Bishop cut him off.
Rook kicked him under the table, glare sharp. "Look—Kendra's been an unwilling test subject before."
Bishop opened his mouth—
"And you weren't there," Rook cut in. "You didn't have to hold her down while she screamed at us to stop."
Bishop sobered at that, realizing he really had struck a nerve after all.
My grip tightened around my cards, still hearing that moment in my head.
Rook leaned forward, voice lower now. "So yeah. Maybe don't act surprised that she's not in the mood to play cards."
Silence settled over the table.
"And last I checked," Rook continued, "our mission right now is to deliver that girl to be a test subject again. She's allowed to be upset."
He paused, holding Bishop's gaze. "Leave her alone."
From my right, Bishop squirmed, clearly unsure how to respond. His gaze slid toward me. "Maybe someone should go check on her," he said, quieter this time.
I stared at my cards for a moment. Hardly recognized half of them.
Then I threw the hand down and got to my feet. Everyone watched me go. Everyone except Rook. And for just a moment, I really did feel bad for him. Remembering only then how he'd snapped at the Captain for ordering he hold her down. I tried to catch his gaze, but he kept his eyes averted.
With a sigh, I made my way to the stairs, barely registering as raindrops began to patter against my skin. Before I had even crossed the deck, the dog ran up the stairs. I nearly walked right past him, stopping only when I saw the way he was moving.
Harbor spun in a tight circle, nose lifted to the air. Then he froze. His hackles rose with warning. A moment later, his head snapped toward the starboard side of the ship, eyes locked onto something. A deep growl rumbled from his chest, tail stiff and straight.
Owen looked up from where he stood by the bulwark. "Harbor," he called to the dog first. "What's wrong, boy?"
I reached for him, stroking the top of his head once to get his attention, but he didn't even acknowledge me.
Then he bolted for the guardrail, barking and snarling—frantic and wrong.
Something shifted then. Like the air itself was vibrating. Sending a warning through my skin. Through my bones. A chill crawled up my spine.
The ship rocked once. Then again—harder. Waves slammed against the hull. Everyone stumbled sideways—the world tilting all at once.
Metal screamed. Everyone flinched, hands flying to their ears as the sound turned deafening. Harbor snapped at the water, his bark swallowed by the screeching metal.
The starboard side of the ship dipped dangerously toward the water, weighted down by something. Something fucking massive.
My body slid across the steel deck, dragged by gravity toward the guardrails. Harbor nearly toppled off the side of the ship, but I grabbed him, throwing the dog toward the staircase. He hit the stairs and disappeared below.
The ship lurched again and my focus snapped elsewhere. I slammed into the guardrail, all the air punched from my lungs.
"Kendraaa..."
The voice dragged her name apart—wet, broken, wrong. My blood turned to ice. I knew that voice. I personally had burned half of that man's face. My own revenge for what he'd done to her.
Verissimo.
I barely had time to think the name before a massive clawed hand slammed down on the railing beside me.
"Leon!" Someone screamed from behind me, but I couldn't focus on them right now.
Another claw came over the side—fast and lethal. I rolled across the railing just as razor-edged talons carved through steel where I'd been.
I didn't remember reaching for my gun. It was in my hand, barrel pointed at the creature boarding the ship. I yanked the slide, weapon craned sideways. Three shots. Center mass.
The thing hardly reacted, hauling its grotesque body out of the water and sliding over the railing.
The ship lurched back into balance, throwing me toward the center of the deck. I rolled with it, landing on one knee and firing two more shots at its head—or what passed for one
"What the fuck is that?!" Bishop yelled from somewhere to my left.
"A B.O.W.!" Jill yelled back. Gunfire erupted around me, rounds punching into the creature's warped flesh.
"Wraith!" Owen barked. "Overwatch!"
She moved instantly.
A blur of black streaked past me, scaling the superstructure like gravity didn't apply to her. I backed toward port side, tracking her as she climbed the main mast and vanished into the monkey island.
"Turn over... the girl..." the monster gagged, voice thick with blood and rot.
A deafening crack split the air.
The creature staggered sideways, nearly spilling back into the sea.
My gaze snapped upward just in time to see Wraith working the bolt handle on a Barrett M107. Calm. Precise. Unfazed.
The B.O.W. righted itself, spilling blood in droves across the deck.
"You can't hide her from me!" Verissimo's voice screeched.
Then his jaw unhinged—stretching too far, too wide—until something tore. Bone cracked. Flesh split. His throat twisted outward, turning inside out as something inside him forced its way free. Too many limbs punched through first. Thin, jointed wrong, clawing for purchase.
Dozens of smaller B.O.W.s spilled from his mouth. They hit the deck in wet, heavy thuds, sliding through the blood already pooling beneath him.
"What the fuck?!" One of the crew members screamed.
Dog-like monsters slid in their own blood, trying to find their footing as the ship rocked. They scattered like cockroaches, skittering in all directions, slipping and clawing for traction
"Hunt her down! Kill the spares!" Verissimo screamed, each one of the monsters obeying the command immediately.
Kendra.
I bolted for the lower deck, trying to outrun the creatures overtaking the ship. Sniper rounds took down two of them in quick succession, their bodies dropping beside me. Wraith dropped two more ahead of me, clearing my path.
Something slammed into my left side, sending me hurling toward the bulwark. I hit, rolled, and came up fast—gun already raised.
The creature shrieked, claw snapping toward my throat. I jerked back and fired. It flailed, screaming in pain. Not dead. Another shot. This time, it went still.
My gaze snapped up, heart sinking as three canines dove down the stairs to the lower deck. To Kendra.
I shot one of them twice in the spine. It tumbled down the stairs out of view. Surging forward, I slid across the deck, desperately reaching for the opening in the staircase.
One of the canines doubled back, leaping from the stairs at me before I could follow. My spine hit steel, heavy paws pinning me to the ground. Mutilated face snapping for my throat.
I shoved the barrel of my gun in its mouth. Pulled the trigger. My final shot blew its head apart. I shoved the body off and got to my feet, chest heaving as I took in the chaos around me. Gunfire, shouting, creatures everywhere.
"Someone needs to put these things on a leash," I muttered, thumbing the magazine release, fishing a new one from my pocket, and sliding it into place. I jerked back the slide, again trying to sprint down the stairs.
A choppy sound filled the air. Familiar. Not important enough to think about right now. I barely made it to the second step when a hand closed around my ankle, yanking me back.
I turned, firing at the beast as it tore us backward across the deck. When my second bullet found its arm, it screamed, grip tightening just before it threw me. My body caught air, limbs flailing. My shoulder slammed into the bow of the ship, pain exploding in the joint. Thundering footsteps came for me. I scrambled onto my back, raising my arm to take aim.
A sharp crack split the air and the B.O.W. dropped—before I could pull the trigger.
Wraith pulled back the bolt handle. "Kennedy!" She yelled down at me, pressing her eye to the scope. "What are you doing? Get your ass below deck!"
I jumped to my feet, running for the staircase. "I'm having a fucking tea party—what does it look like I'm doing?" I yelled back at her.
My feet skid on wet steel as I forced myself to a stop, taking several steps back as half a dozen of the canines moved between me and the lower deck stairs.
Bishop and Rook met me on either side, their guns raised. A much bigger gun was shoved into my hand by Bishop.
"Three of those things got below deck." Rook relayed to me, rapid gunfire cracking from the end of his barrel.
"We'll clear a path." Bishop added. "You get Kendra out."
I chambered my round, lifting the rifle to eye level. "I'm on it."
We all fired, gunning down as many as we could. They were like parasites. Two more appearing as soon as one was killed. With every passing second, fear knotted my stomach. I needed to get to her. Before they did. Before they took her.
~ ~ ~
Kendra
The voice was close now. Clear. For hours, I'd tried to ignore it. Pretending that I was simply going crazy.
"There's no where for you to run now." He called to me. A voice I knew. A voice that had been haunting me since Leon broke me out of that compound.
I sat up, looking to the door I'd left open. Waiting for Leon to come find me. Would he believe me if I told him what I was hearing?
Harbor perked up, ears lifted. A low growl hummed from his throat. Before I could move, he jumped to his feet, running from my room without looking back.
My stomach dropped. Could Harbor hear it too?
Trembling, I got to my feet, slowly slipping from my room and making my way down the hall. I stopped in the main living quarters, looking around for anyone who might be below deck with me. The room was empty.
My gaze flicked to the stairs. Listening to the frantic barking from above me. I felt frozen. Terrified. Something deep in my bones telling me that this was wrong. Something bad was going to happen.
The ship rocked suddenly, sending me stumbling into sideways. Before I could right myself, it rocked harder and I tumbled into the living quarters, sliding across the floor until my stomach slammed into the corner of the metal lockers.
I nearly vomited on impact, struggling to take a breath as I forced myself onto all fours. Harbor suddenly ran down the stairs, legs failing him, like he hadn't had time to think before moving. He ran right past me, not noticing me, beelining directly for my room.
Struggling, I managed to pull myself to my feet, counteracting the violent lurching of the ship. Just as I managed to regain breath—
"Kendraaa..."
Terror coursed through my blood. It was unmistakable now. No longer a voice in my head. No longer something that could be written off as hallucination.
Gunfire exploded above me. I ran for Leon's bag, retrieving the first gun I could get my hands on. Just as I managed to snag a magazine, the ship rocked back into balance, throwing my body into the center of the room.
The gun clattered out of my hands, sliding across the floor. I scrambled for it, ignoring the pain in my knees from where I hit the ground.
"Turn over... the girl..." Verissimo gargled the words, each one an explosion of sound in my ears.
I flinched, snatching the gun and snapping the magazine into place. My heart slammed against my ribs as I jumped to my feet, entire body vibrating with fear.
"You can't hide her from me!"
A sob slipped out of me, palms slamming over my ears as I ran for the showers. The closest room with a lock on the door.
Harbor appeared beside me, making me jump out of my skin. Recovering quickly, I snatched him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him with me into the shower room. Just as I tripped into the room, something large came barreling down the stairs.
It crawled straight past us, following its nose. Tracking a scent. When it lunged into my bedroom down the hall, I knew it was tracking my scent.
Quietly, I shut the shower door, sliding the lock into place. I flinched as the sound of the lock echoed through the empty showers.
It heard it too. Footsteps thundered over the steel floorboards outside just before something heavy slammed into the other side of the door. The sound startled me and I stumbled over the drain in the center of the room—falling onto my ass.
Harbor growled in warning. I reached for him, pulling him against me, using my legs to push us backward across the floor. Until my spine met the wall. I clamped my hand around his muzzle, arm tight around his neck.
"Shhh," I whispered into his ear, my tears dropping into his fur as we both trembled. My hand tightened around the gun.
The door bowed inward with another hit. Metal groaned. Hinges shrieked. It wasn't going to hold.
My pulse roared in my ears so loud I almost didn't hear it at first—the sniffing. Wet. Close. Right on the other side of the door.
Harbor went rigid beneath my grip, a low vibration building in his chest. I pressed harder over his muzzle, silently begging him to stay quiet.
The creature dragged something across the door. Claws. Slow. Intentional. Like it knew I was right there.
"Kendra..."
The voice didn't echo this time. It whispered. Right outside the door.
"I know you're in there."
Fear wouldn't let me breathe. Wouldn't let me move. My fingers tingled, begging for air.
The metal dented inward again—harder this time. A bolt snapped loose, clattering across the tile.
I flinched violently, biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out. The pain was enough to allow me a breath.
Think.
Think.
Think!
My eyes darted around the showers. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Just tile. Drains. Thin metal walls that wouldn't stop anything determined enough.
Another slam. The lock bent.
Harbor let out a muffled whine against my palm.
"You can't escape me."
My stomach twisted. The barrel of my gun shook as I raised it, aiming at the door even though I knew—
If it came through, I'd have maybe one shot. Maybe.
It slammed into the door again. This time, the lock gave. The door burst inward halfway, metal splitting down the seam.
I fired.
The shot rang deafening in the confined space, the recoil jolting up my arm. The bullet hit something—I heard it—but it didn't stop.
A claw punched through the opening, blindly swiping. Shifting its body against the metal door. Faster. More violent. Trying to force its way through the opening.
I didn't think. Didn't hesitate.
I fired again. And again. Each shot buying me seconds I didn't have.
The metal tore wider. The creature forced its head through the gap. Rows of razor sharp teeth snapped in my direction.
Then it slid through the opening, plopping onto the shower floor and scrambling for me.
I kicked Harbor away, falling onto my back and firing another shot. The bullet hit—center mass—and the creature toppled. Only for a moment. It surged forward, leaping on top of me.
A scream tore from my throat as I fired again and again. Emptying the mag into its body. It struggled now, staggering, but its hand had closed around my throat, dragging me back toward the door. My legs kicked. Hands clawed at its grip. Just as I thought it might yank me through the broken door, a bark sounded.
The creature toppled sideways, releasing my throat and tumbling across the shower. I looked up in time to see Harbor with his teeth in the back of its neck. He thrashed mercilessly and the creature shrieked, logrolling in an attempt to get the dog to unlatch from its body.
If I didn't do something, it would kill him.
Surging to my feet, I ran for the other side of the room, hands closing around a shower curtain rod. Using all of my body weight, I broke it out of place, raised it behind my head, and swung as hard as I could.
It connected with the creature's skull so hard I felt the vibration through my hands.
Harbor jumped away, sprinting behind me as I raised the rod again.
The creature recovered from the hit, turning on me with a vengeance. Its jaw opened, too wide. Flesh tore and bone snapped. Its throat peeled open like something inside it was trying to turn outward—like it meant to swallow me whole.
With a scream, I drove the rod forward. Straight down its throat.
Metal punched through cartilage, scraping bone, forcing its way deeper as the creature convulsed around it. Its body slammed into mine, weight knocking the air from my lungs as I shoved harder, desperate, hands slipping as something warm coated the metal.
"Just fucking die!" I screamed through grit teeth.
The rod sunk deeper. Into brain. The creature jerked. Twitched—then went slack.
But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I kept pushing, forcing the rod deeper, a broken sound tearing from my throat as if it might come back if I didn't make sure.
For a second, I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just stood there, hands locked around the metal, staring at it. Waiting for it to get back up. Waiting for it to not be over.
When it didn't move again, my grip gave out. My knees buckled, and I dropped, palms hitting the wet tile. My chest heaved, lungs dragging in air that didn't feel like enough.
"Harbor—" My voice broke.
He pressed against my side immediately, whining, nudging under my arm like he was trying to hold me together.
"I'm okay," I choked, even though I clearly wasn't. My hands shook as I grabbed onto his fur. "I'm okay."
I couldn't stay here. If more of those things came, we'd be sitting ducks.
"Come on," I patted my leg, urging him to follow me as I hurried for the door. The opening was large. Easy to slip through. Both of us jumped back into the hall, breathing heavy as we looked around.
I needed another gun. Just as I decided to go back to Leon's bag, claws scratched against the stairs. Coming for us. There was no time to get to the bag. Nowhere to hide in the open living quarters.
So I ran for my bedroom, Harbor hot on my heels. We both dove into the room and I slammed the door closed, locking it behind me.
This time, when the creature slammed against it, I didn't flinch. My chest heaved, but I ran for the desk, tearing it away from the wall and shoving it toward the door. Needing something to stand between us and those things. There was two of them now. Beating against the door relentlessly.
I searched the room for something—anything—to use as a weapon. There was nothing.
When I took a step, I slipped in something. Only then did I realize that blood was dropping off me in a steady stream. I didn't feel any pain. I wasn't sure if it was mine or the monster's. But it left a heavy trail of red all over the room.
Shaking my head, I went to the wardrobe, yanking the doors open and shoving Harbor inside. I went in after him, closing the doors behind us. Dropping down, I pulled the dog into my chest, clinging to him as I listened to the bedroom door slowly give in to the bodies battering against it.
When they finally broke through, I held onto Harbor tighter, hand closed around his muzzle to keep him from barking.
The creatures thrashed around the room, tearing everything to shreds. Tearing each other to shreds.
Stalking past the wardrobe. Looking for me. Knowing I was here.
I held my breath, heart hammering in my chest so loud I was sure they could hear it.
Wood splintered. Metal screamed. Fabric tore. Something heavy overturned—my desk, maybe—slamming into the wall hard enough to rattle the wardrobe doors against my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my face into Harbor's fur.
Don't move. Don't breathe. Don't make a sound.
The chaos didn't last long. It stopped too fast. Silence swallowed the room.
Not empty. Not safe.
Listening.
My lungs burned. My chest strained against the need to inhale, but I forced it down—forced myself still.
A wet sniff cut through the quiet. Close. Too close.
Harbor trembled beneath my hands, a low vibration threatening to build in his chest. I tightened my grip over his muzzle, fingers digging into his fur.
Please. Please don't—
Another sniff. Right outside the wardrobe. A slow drag of claws across the floor. Testing. Tracking.
My heart slammed so hard I was sure it echoed.
A shadow shifted through the thin slats of the wardrobe door. Then—a scrape of metal.
One of them brushed against the wardrobe. I flinched despite myself, shoulders tightening.
The creature stilled. Completely. Like it felt that. Like it knew.
"Kendra..." The whisper slithered through the room.
My vision blurred. My grip on Harbor tightened until my hands hurt.
Another step. Closer.
A claw tapped against the wardrobe door. Once. Light. Curious.
Deep terror settled in my spine. Screaming at me to run. To fight.
Don't react. I told myself. Don't react. Don't—
The claw dragged slowly down the door. Screeching metal.
My entire body locked up. Harbor whimpered against my palm.
The creature inhaled deeply. Inches away. Only a thin sheet of metal separating us.
There was a long, wet breath. And then it stopped.
A brief silence. A shift in weight.
I couldn't help it. I looked. Through the narrow slat in the wardrobe door—and my stomach dropped.
A red eye stared directly back at me. Unblinking.
It tilted its head.
"I found you."
~ ~ ~
Leon
I could hear nothing but gunfire. Every shot stapled the darkness with flashes of light.
A canine creature toppled Bishop, snapping its jaws at his face. He held it back with his rifle, his mouth moving. Likely calling for help I couldn't hear.
Spinning for momentum, I swung my leg into its head at full force. The steel toe boot sunk into its eye and it tumbled off of him. Before it could recover, I put two bullets in its brain. Then I jerked Bishop to his feet, shoving him toward Rook.
"Some fucking cover that was!" I tried to shout, but my voice was swallowed by wind, screaming, and gunfire.
More monsters crept around us, closing in, forcing the entire crew to the center of the ship. Refusing to let us near the lower deck. Near Kendra. I gunned down as many as I could, hoping to make a hole. Getting nowhere.
A huge gust of wind berated us. Too sudden to be natural. It didn't just hit, it punched. Salt, rain, and loose debris tore across the deck, flying into our eyes and mouths. Before I could search for the source, rapid gunfire rained down from the sky. We all froze, looking up at once—
A U.S. military helicopter hovered over the ship. And mounted on the door? A beautiful M134 Minigun. The rotary machine gun pelted unrelenting gunfire on the B.O.W.s blocking us in.
Beside me, Bishop whooped, jumping into the air excitedly.
Fast Ropes dropped down from the other side of the helicopter, and soldiers zipped down the lines onto the deck. Adding to our own gunfire.
Then—a face I recognized through the chaos.
Piers. The sniper from the beach. The one that had saved our asses. He headed directly for me, firing at every monster that got too close.
"Kennedy!" He met my side, sparing me a glance. "Where's the girl?"
"Below deck!" I called back, putting down another canine.
Piers radioed to the helicopter immediately. "Gunner, shift fire to starboard—cut us a path to the lower deck. We need a hole!"
His radio crackled. "Copy that—starboard hot. Clearing you a lane."
The minigun spun up and tore across the deck—rounds chewing through steel and flesh alike. Creatures dropped in pieces, the line in front of us collapsing under the barrage.
I tracked the bursts—waiting for the gap.
"How the hell are you here?" I shouted over the noise.
Piers moved with me as we edged closer, skirting the edge of the fire. "We've been tracking that thing since Myrtle Beach." He explained. "Been trying to get in contact with your ship. You've been radio silent!"
I cursed. "Our comms have been down."
"Well isn't that just perfect?" Piers laughed humorlessly.
My focus never left the stairs.
There. An opening. I moved.
Piers didn't miss a beat, chasing after me.
"Ceasefire!" he barked into the radio.
The gunfire stopped—just for a heartbeat.
I tore through the gap, slipping on blood-slick steel as bodies collapsed around me. One misstep and I was dead, but I didn't slow.
I dove down the stairs, momentum carrying me down. My shoulder slammed into the floor as I took the landing too fast, rolling away as Piers dropped in behind me.
Canines flooded the stairwell after us.
Piers spun, firing up the steps as they clawed over each other for footing.
“Go! Move!” he barked. "I'll cover you!"
I didn’t hesitate. I was already running. The lower deck stretched out in front of me.
My breath caught. Pace faltering only for a moment as my mind registered the scene before me.
Blood. Streaked across the floor. Smeared along the walls. A trail leading from the showers… straight to her room.
I forced the fear down. Kept moving. Clear the deck first. Think later.
Cutting into the shower first, I swept the room with one glance. Needing to know she wasn’t in here. A dead canine lay crumpled near the drain. Blood everywhere.
She fought.
Relief hit, sharp and fleeting. Just enough to keep me moving.
I turned back into the hall, boots sliding in the blood as I followed the trail. Praying it wasn't hers.
"Kendra!" I shouted, voice tearing down the corridor. Not just calling for her. Drawing the other two to me.
Skidding to a stop, I nearly collided with the Captain’s door, turning for her room.
The door was already half torn off its hinges. It slammed against the wall as I hit it, gun raised—
Movement. The exact two monsters I was looking for. Snapping around at the sound of me. They snarled, paws crunching through the broken glass on the floor.
Then they lunged.
I pulled the trigger.
The first dropped in a spray of blood and bone. The second moved too fast. Claws raked across my side as I twisted, pain flaring hot and sharp. We toppled into the hall, the monster pinning me to the floor.
It’s jaw clamped around my gun, thrashing, trying to wrangle it from my hands. I dug my boots into its stomach, kicking it as hard as I could. It rolled onto its back, bringing me with. It’s limbs flailed at the motion, barking in surprise.
I yanked my gun into my chest, shoved the barrel under its jaw, and fired. Gore exploded across the bulkhead. Every movement ceased.
I pushed myself to my feet with a ragged breath, stumbling back toward the room—
All air abandoned my lungs.
No.
Blood. So much blood. Everywhere. Smeared across the floor. Splattered up the walls. Dragged in streaks that led everywhere.
The bed had been torn apart, blankets in a shredded mess across the floor. The desk overturned. The walls carved open like something had tried to dig her out of them.
Even the wardrobe was destroyed, one of the doors ripped completely off. The other door hung slightly ajar, a bloody handprint streaked across its surface. Small. Hers.
“Kendra—” My voice didn’t sound like mine.
No answer.
I took a step forward, boots slipping. There was too much blood. Too much.
My chest tightened, something in it starting to crack.
No.
No, no, no.
Too late. The thought hit fast and brutal. I was too late.
No, I can’t be. I can’t.
My vision tunneled, locking onto the smear of red across the floor. Drag marks. Signs of a struggle. Signs of—
“Kendra!” Louder this time. My voice raw. Breaking.
Nothing. The silence pressed in. It was suffocating.
I moved anyway. Checked the corners. Both bunks. The space behind the door. Pointless places. Desperate ones.
She had been here. She had fought. And I wasn’t here.
My pulse roared so loud it drowned everything else. I turned slowly, taking it in again—every inch of destruction, every streak of blood—
Nothing left. There was nothing left.
My grip on the gun faltered, pulse roaring in my ears. I turned in a slow circle, trying to make sense of it. Trying to find something—anything—that said she hadn’t been taken from me.
Then, a sound. Small. Behind me.
I froze.
It wasn’t the B.O.W.s. Wasn’t the ship.
It was something else. A shift. Fabric. Breath.
My head snapped toward the wardrobe. I crossed the room in two strides, barely feeling the pain in my side as I grabbed the handle and wrenched the remaining door open.
Clothes spilled forward in a heap, toppled from their hangers, sliding across the blood-slick floor.
For a second… nothing. Then the pile shifted.
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
A jacket slipped from the top of the pile. Dark curls spilled into the open first. And then her face.
My lungs stuttered. A sharp, broken inhale that didn’t quite make it all the way in.
For a second, my brain didn’t catch up. The metallic scent of blood burned my nose. Warning me that she was far from okay. Every horrific injury hidden beneath the clothes piled on top of her.
Then she moved, arms reaching for me through the mess.
That was all it took. Something in my chest gave out completely.
I dropped the gun without realizing it, hands already reaching for her—dragging her out of the wardrobe and into me so fast it was almost rough.
Her chest slammed into mine. I could feel the rise of her chest against me. Proving life. Proving I hadn’t lost her.
My arms locked around her, pulling her tight against me. Afraid that if I let go for even a second, she’d be gone again.
She trembled against me, fingers curling into my shirt. “Leon—” a broken cry slipped out of her.
My hand came up to the back of her head, pressing her into me, like I needed to shield her from something that wasn’t even there anymore. “You’re okay. I got you. I got you.”
The dog jumped out of the wardrobe behind her, shaking off. I hardly paid attention to him.
Kendra cried into my chest. “He’s here! He’s come for me! I thought—I thought—”
I nudged her head with my cheek, fingers curling in her hair. “I know. I know, sweetheart.”
My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t stop it. For a second, I pressed my face into her hair, eyes squeezing shut.
Too close. That thought hit late. Heavy. Sinking in after everything else. Too fucking close.
My grip tightened without meaning to.
“You’re okay,” I repeated, quieter this time. More to convince myself than her.
Then I pulled back suddenly, hands sweeping over every inch of her, searching for injuries.
“Are you hurt?” The question came out sharp and urgent, but my voice wavered. Every breath stalled on the way in.
“I think—I think so.” She stumbled over her own words, barely holding herself together as her eyes went to the door. Searching for danger.
Something warm smeared across my fingers. I froze. My gaze dropped.
Blood. Too much.
Panic seized me, squeezing the air from my lungs.
“Fuck—” My hands tightened on her, still trembling, turning her slightly. Searching.
There. Her right arm. Teeth marks that carved a line from shoulder to elbow. A deep tear.
My vision tunneled for a split second. Then training slammed back in.
I moved. Snatched a shirt from the wreckage. Tore it in one hard pull, fabric ripping uneven in my hands. Wrapped it around her arm, tight enough to stanch it.
My fingers were already slick with blood as I reached for my gun, grabbing it off the floor. “We need to move.” The words came out rough, breathless.
I hauled her to her feet, not giving either of us time to think. “Stay behind me.”
She nodded, fingers wrapping around my belt, clinging to me the only way she knew how.
I swept the hall, ensuring none of the other canines had made their way down here. It was clear. Piers still gunned down every creature that tried. But he shot less often. Fewer monsters now. More of them dead.
My feet moved, leading her back toward the stairs. Harbor’s nails clicked against the steel as he followed after us.
“You got her?” Piers asked, his gaze trained on the stairs.
“She’s safe.” I nodded, raising my gun in anticipation.
Piers glanced back at her. Brief. Only enough to confirm.
“The deck is almost clear.” He relayed to me, firing a single shot at a canine scrambling for the landing. “The focus is on Verissimo now.”
“Understood.” I reached back, grabbing Kendra’s hand.
“I’ll go first.” Piers stepped forward. “Clear the upper deck.”
I didn’t argue, watching him climb the stairs, and then clamber over the creatures’ dead bodies. He vanished onto the upper deck, rapid gunfire announcing his arrival.
Kendra pressed herself into my side, fingers still looped around my belt. I squeezed her other hand, trying to reassure her. Maybe even trying to reassure myself.
“Clear!” Piers called down.
“Come on,” I pulled her with me, guiding her up the stairs. Maneuvering around the corpses.
Just as I reached the top step, she lost her footing, falling backwards. I didn’t let her go. Tugging her back into me, I righted her once more. Grabbed her around the waist. Then lifted her over the remaining corpses. Over the steps. To the deck above.
Piers wrapped an arm around her ribs, pulling her to safety. I followed after, breathing in the refreshing scent of salt water. Finally away from the blood and gore of the lower deck.
Kendra pulled away from Piers the moment she saw me. Hurrying back to my side. I reached for her—
Something slammed into my back, sending me directly to the floor. My head bounced off the steel, dazing me. Before I could turn, sharp pain exploded in my shoulder.
Kendra screamed and someone’s gun fired off shots. The teeth latching onto me fell away, the body slumping to the ground. I turned onto my back, pushing away from the thing. Unsure if it was dead. The canine didn’t move.
Piers dropped down beside me, inspecting my shoulder. “You alright?”
My vision was still swimming. Ears ringing.
“Fuck,” Piers cursed, yanking my shirt down my shoulder. “It bit you.”
Jill and Bishop were suddenly behind me.
“Is he okay?” Bishop asked first.
Piers leaned away from me, catching his breath. “No.” He cursed again, getting to his feet and taking several steps back. “He’s infected.”
Those words turned my blood to ice. Heat crawled up my arm.
Jill was the only one who remained composed. Eyes trained on me. “How long does he have?”
“A few minutes.” Piers sighed, looking up at the helicopter.
“The ones on the beach mutated within seconds.” Jill argued, fingers tightening around her gun.
His jaw clenched. “It’s a new strain. We’ve been following these bastards for days. Lost good men. They mutated within minutes.”
Bishop’s face tightened with worry. “So, what, we have to put him down?”
Everything started to blur at the edges. My eyes went to Kendra through the thickening haze.
“No.” She shook her head, voice sounding far away. “We have a vaccine. On the ship.” She looked out at the chaos. Searching for someone. Lex?
Jill shook her head. “Lex locked it in the med bay. That room is overrun right now. There’s no way we’ll make it on time.”
It was becoming difficult to track conversation. My fingers twitched against the deck. Tried to close around something that wasn’t there anymore.
Kendra moved. Sharp and sudden.
“No—” I tried again, but my voice didn’t cooperate.
She snatched my gun.
“Kendra—wait—”
Too late.
She stepped back, already turning away. “Fucking watch me.”
Then she was gone. Sprinting.
Jill cursed and followed immediately, boots tearing across the deck.
Piers looked at me. I was just coherent enough to understand what needed to happen.
“Go with her!”
He hesitated for half a second. Just long enough to look at me like he was measuring time. Then he nodded once. And he was gone too.
Bishop knelt beside me, fingers pressing into my shoulder where the bite burned like fire. Heat coursed through my body, the infection already spreading. Multiplying.
“I hope your girl is fast.” He mumbled.
Your girl. I might have reacted to that under normal circumstances. Right now, I didn’t care. Didn’t care about how reckless it was that Bishop knew something he shouldn’t.
All I cared about was her. Putting all of my faith in Piers and Jill to keep her safe when I couldn’t.
I tried to speak, but my tongue didn’t cooperate. My thoughts were starting to separate. Like they belonged to different people in the same body.
Kendra running. Kendra alone. Kendra with my gun. Wondering if the last time I would see her was when she was running away from me.
A few minutes. That’s all I had. Minutes. That word wouldn’t stay still.
My fingers twitched against the steel deck. Scraped once. Looking for purchase that wasn’t there.
A violent ripple of pain tore through my body. My body convulsed and I folded forward.
And when I looked down, black veins stretched beneath my skin.
