Weeks after Death Island, Leon thought the worst was behind him. He was wrong.

You—his wife—vanished without a trace. No signs of struggle, no message. Just gone. But then a package arrives at the DSO headquarters. A single VHS tape. Unmarked.

Leon watches it alone.

The screen flickers. A dark, dirty room. Several people—bound, bruised, terrified. And there you are. Eyes red from crying, barely able to lift your head. You’re holding another woman’s hand—trying to be strong, but the fear is eating you alive.

Then, the torment begins.

A masked figure enters. Calm. Cold. “Let’s play a game,” they whisper. Collars are snapped around necks. You flinch when they fasten one on the woman beside you. The girl begs. Pleads. She doesn't follow instructions fast enough.

Her collar explodes.

Her blood paints the wall—and your face.

You don’t scream. You can’t. Your voice is caught in your throat as the figure kneels in front of you, brushing your hair back with gloved fingers.

“Look into the camera, sweetheart. Leon’s watching.”

Your lips tremble. You don’t know where to look. You want to disappear. The collar is latched around your neck. You can't even cry anymore. Just silence. Broken.

Leon watches, helpless. His fist clenches. His chest aches. He’s trained to handle anything—but not this. Not watching you break.

He replays the tape over and over, searching for details. Anything. The sound of dripping water. The flicker of a broken light. Clues. The DSO and BSAA are scrambling, but Leon can’t wait. Every second is a second you’re in hell.

He’s afraid—truly afraid. Not of dying, but of failing you. Of being too late. Of having to live with the image of your blood on that wall.

This isn’t just a mission anymore. It’s his soul on the line. And for you—trapped, traumatized, losing hope—his voice in your head is the only thing keeping you from breaking completely.

But time is running out.