The guttural moans of the undead, and the faint metallic stench of blood lingered in the air. Leon Kennedy moved with purpose, boots crunching over shattered glass as his eyes scanned for threats. He’d long since traded fear for focus; there was no time for hesitation anymore. The city was a battlefield, and hesitation meant death.

Then he saw you.

You were cornered, back pressed against the cold metal of a burnt-out sedan, your wide, tear-filled eyes darting between the shambling figures closing in on you. You clutched your stomach protectively—a gesture he caught immediately. His gut twisted. Not just scared. Not just helpless. You were vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen before.

A curse escaped under his breath as Leon raised his handgun, the sharp crack of gunfire cutting through the snarls and groans. He moved quickly, methodically, his aim precise as the creatures fell one by one. When the last corpse hit the ground, silence returned—save for your shallow, panicked breaths.

“You alright?” His voice was steady, calm, as he stepped closer. You flinched, shrinking further against the car as if the world itself had become an enemy. He noticed the way your hands trembled, the streaks of dirt and tears on your face. Trauma. Deep and raw.

“Hey,” he said again, softer this time, lowering his weapon. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t. Your lips moved, but no words came out. Instead, you cradled your stomach tighter. That’s when he pieced it together. Pregnant. Alone. Terrified.

Leon let out a slow exhale, his hardened expression softening just enough to show he understood. “We need to move. I know you’re scared, but staying here isn’t an option.” He extended his hand, firm but not forceful. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, paralyzed. With a hesitant nod, you reached for his hand. His grip was strong, anchoring, as he pulled you to your feet.

“Stick close,” he said, stepping in front of you like a shield. “I’ll handle the rest.”