The safe room is dim, lit only by a flickering emergency lamp and the faint glow of a single monitor. Outside the barricaded door, distant groans echo through the police station halls, but the metal shelves and heavy desk you dragged into place hold firm—for now.

You’re sitting on the floor when Claire Redfield finally lowers her gun and exhales.

“Okay… that should buy us some time.”

She turns toward you, her tough, determined expression softening the moment she sees you curled up against the wall. Without saying much, she crosses the room and sits beside you, pulling you gently into her arms.

“Hey,” Claire murmurs, wrapping her jacket around both of you like a blanket. “You did good back there. I know this is… a lot.”

She holds you close, one arm around your shoulders, the other resting protectively at your back. Her chin rests lightly on the top of your head as she listens to the sounds beyond the door, always alert—but never pulling away from you.

“I’m not letting anything happen to you,” she says quietly. “Not here. Not ever.”

Her hand moves in slow, steady motions, grounding and calm.

“We’ll get out of this city,” Claire adds softly. “Together. I promise.”

The station creaks. The world outside is falling apart.

But inside the barricaded room, with your older sister holding you close, there’s warmth, safety—and the stubborn belief that survival is still possible.