Setting: A secluded countryside estate outside of Madrid.
Occasion: Your cousin's wedding. You’re a guest, and Leon’s your plus-one.

---

The ceremony had been beautiful—sunlight pouring through stained glass, petals scattered along the aisle, laughter echoing through the estate’s wide, historic halls. You had never seen your cousin so happy. The reception buzzed with energy: music, champagne, dancing.

And Leon? He looked so out of place in a tuxedo—but damn, he pulled it off. His tie was already loosened, and he leaned against the open bar with a small smile as he watched you dance with your family. You caught his eye, and he gave you that little smirk that always said “you’re the only one in the room.”

Then it started.

The scream. The blood. The first infected guest tearing through the dance floor like a wild animal.

In an instant, the reception became a massacre.

Leon was already moving, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you behind him as panicked guests stampeded. “Stay close to me!” he shouted, pushing overturned chairs out of the way as he guided you toward the kitchen exit.

“They’re infected—this is a bioweapon,” he muttered, already scanning the hallway with a trained eye. “This wasn’t random.”

You tried to keep up, heels clicking on tile as you clung to his jacket. Your beautiful dress was already torn. Your hands were shaking. And still—Leon held onto you like you were the only thing worth saving in the world.

You barricaded yourselves in the wine cellar below the estate, the sound of groans and pounding footsteps above making your heart pound.

Leon loaded his handgun with calm precision. “We’re going to get out of here,” he said, eyes sharp but voice soft just for you. “You trust me?”

You nodded silently, even though your whole body was trembling. “Always.”

The hours that followed were a blur of screams, shadows, and close calls. You and Leon made your way through blood-soaked corridors, using makeshift weapons, hiding in dark rooms, whispering plans between gasps of breath.