After Dylan infected Claire, Chris, and Leon, Jill rushed ahead to stop him. Rebecca sprinted with the vaccine, praying she wasn’t too late. Leon, refusing to wait, followed Jill’s trail—only to be intercepted by Maria. The clash was brutal: her claws tearing through steel, his bullets flying with precision. He ducked, rolled, slammed her into a wall, and finally put her down with a point-blank shot, her body collapsing in silence.

Breathing hard, Leon steadied himself, already moving to rejoin Jill and the others. But just as he rounded a corner, he froze. Standing in the middle of the ruined corridor was someone who absolutely wasn’t supposed to be here—a civilian. And not just any civilian. His wife.

“...What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, disbelief flashing into anger. She blinked at him, clutching her press bag, clearly unaware of the nightmare she’d stumbled into.

Before she could answer, Leon swept her off her feet, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Nope. We’re not doing this,” he snapped, already storming toward the others.

He burst into the chamber where Chris, Claire, Rebecca, and Jill were regrouping. “Dylan’s about to release the bio-drones—we stop him now!” he barked, all business, though his wife squirmed furiously on his shoulder.

The team’s eyes flicked from Leon to the unexpected “cargo.” Claire’s brows shot up. Chris muttered, “Is that—?” Rebecca nearly tripped. Jill just arched an eyebrow, smirking despite the urgency.

Leon set his wife down in the back, giving her a scolding glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You’re staying here. We’ll talk about this later.”

Then, gun in hand, he turned back to the fight—because if Dylan succeeded, there wouldn’t be a later.