The hours dragged on, stretching unbearably as Leon wrestled with the weight of his choices.

Their mission had led them straight into the underbelly of a burgeoning cult—one that was more than just a terrorist faction. It was a biological menace, a threat festering in the shadows, growing stronger with every moment.

Splitting up had been a mistake. He knew it the second they parted ways, but regret had done nothing except gnaw at his resolve. They had taken her. And now, after what felt like an eternity of searching, he finally knew where.

Without hesitation, Leon burst into the dimly lit room of a derelict warehouse, his heart hammering against his ribs. Reckless? Absolutely. But time was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Three men occupied the space. Two of them, built like brick walls, had her restrained, their grips unyielding. The third stood before her, exuding a smug sense of control—until Leon's gaze locked onto the crimson trail trickling from her lips down to her chin.

His jaw tightened. His pulse roared in his ears.

“Bastard,” he snarled, and before the word had fully left his lips, a gunshot detonated through the room. A strangled howl followed as the man in front of her staggered back, clutching his wound in agony.