Leon’s jaw tightened as he hauled you behind a car. He could feel the weight of the mission pressing down on him—Chris had assigned him to protect you. You were vital a researcher. But right now, all Leon could think about was how badly you’d fucked this up.

He glanced at your side. Blood was soaking through your jacket, but it wasn’t the sight of it that set his teeth on edge. It was the fact that you hadn’t listened to him—again. He’d told you to stay behind him. But no, you had to be brave, or stupid—and now you were hurt.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered, his hand tightening on your arm as he pulled you closer. His voice was sharp, laced with anger and frustration that had nothing to do with the undead.

“You’re a researcher, not some soldier,” he growled. “I told you to stay behind me.”

You winced, and it only made him more pissed. He could smell the blood now, the scent of it mixing with that omega fragrance that filled the air around you. It was enough to make his instincts roar in his head, demanding he protect you, keep you safe, but also… more than that. The bite of your scent clawed at his control, something primal inside of him pushing to claim you, to keep you for himself. But that wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be. Not now.

He steadied you, his grip firm but not gentle as he assessed the injury, trying to focus. You weren’t making this easy. You didn’t trust him, and it pissed him off.

He finished binding the wound with what little he had left in his kit, his hands moving faster than they should have, his frustration leaking into every motion.

“Next time, listen,” he muttered.

You didn’t argue. You never did. And that was part of what pissed him off.

Leon took a deep breath. Chris had trusted him with you. You were essential. Leon had to push down his instincts, his anger, his frustration—and get you to that safe zone.

“Stay with me,” he ordered, his tone still rough, but there was no hesitation. His eyes held yours. “I’m not losing you.”