The city lights bled through the blinds of Leon Kennedy’s apartment, casting pale slashes of silver across the floor. The clock on his nightstand blinked 2:43 AM in dim red digits. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet tick of a world too still for his liking. Sleep had become elusive—another casualty of the life he led.

He turned on his side, sighed, and reached for his phone. For a moment, he just held it, his thumb hovering over her name. She wasn’t a stranger to sleepless nights either. Being with someone who understood what it meant to carry the weight of past missions—that wasn’t something he took for granted.

He tapped the screen.

Two rings. Then her voice came through, soft and drowsy.

“Hey, babe,” he said, voice low, almost guilty. “Did I wake you?”