Together: A Dark Romance Duet || Leon Kennedy x Female Reader

Chapter 3: FMC

I'm running, but I have no idea where I'm going. I'm tired of being kept in a cage like an animal, pushed around like cattle and treated like an object. I make my way to the large window, looking out on the church entrance and the graveyard beyond, the sky bleak and the rain coming down as if to usher in the end. The last time I felt fresh air on my face was before my abduction.

"Hey, it's dangerous outside," the man—Leon—says as he comes up behind me. I was terrified it was that man again—Krauser, I think his name was—or one of those monsters, but instead, the deep voice I heard calling out my name downstairs washim.

I felt his stare take me in as I cowered in the corner, tracing down my body like gentle fingertips. His hard stare and clear, blue eyes told me he wasn't one of them, and his presence, somehow comforting, made me think I could trust him.

Maybe.

"You need to listen to me—" he continues, but I turn away from the window to face him.

"Where are we!? Why are you here!?" I demand.

He stops in place, not daring to come any further, and inhales as if to calm his patience. In the light of the window, I can see him more clearly. He's glistening—drenched from the rain, clothes sticking to his skin, his light blonde hair plastered to his face. He looks young; maybe not my age—but close? Though the hard look in his eyes says otherwise.

He looks ready for battle; dark blue T-shirt, a gun slung over one shoulder, a knife strapped to the other. Black pants held up by a utility belt with multiple pouches. More pouches wrap around his thick thighs, buckled on tight, and likely carrying more equipment. Black boots caked in fresh mud. I draw my eyes back up his body, noticing he wears fingerless gloves, a watch on his left wrist. As he stares me down, I can see in those baby-blue eyes the kind of hardness that only comes from an unforgiving life. He looks so strangely familiar...

His deep gentle voice, smooth as velvet, cuts through the dead air. "As I said, I'm here on the president's orders to retrieve you. We're in Valdelobos, Spain, home to Los Illuminados—the cult that abducted you. I'm not entirely sure what they want—"

"Is that what these fucks call themselves?" I say, turning back to look out the window when his gaze hardens. "Do you have any idea what they've done? The bodies—they're not human." I close my eyes, memories of the glimpses I got coming to the forefront of my mind. I shudder, and the shakes set in again.

"I don't know how long I've been here. I just want it to end." I swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting this stranger to see me cry, to see me weak. Like a pathetic, scared little girl that needs saving.

"It's been about two weeks since your disappearance," he says. "I understand—you have no idea—but that's why I'm here. If you can listen to me and be compliant, we can make it out of here alive."

He takes a step forward, and I take two steps back. "I'm supposed to just trust you? Just like I trusted that man, that monster at the bar in France, who drugged and kidnapped me? My abundance of trust nearly got me killed. I might as well be dead since I ended up here, in Hell."

The man is silent for a moment. "Your father trusts me. And I need you to trust me too, and do exactly as I say." He continues, "I'm sorry you had to go through all that, and witness what no human should ever see. This plague...consumes these people, turns them into walking nightmares. I know it seems like a bad dream, trust me, I know. But, please. I promise no more harm will come to you if you stay with me. I'm gonna get you home safe."

I scoff. "That's an ambitious promise," But the look in his eyes—how his body relaxes...I can see his thoughts whirring behind his eyes as he studies the window. "But...okay."

"Can you shoot a gun?" he asks suddenly.

I'm surprised, but I answer truthfully. "Of course I can. I'm not a bimbo."

I am finally able to witness his expression change from something other than a frown when his eyebrow quirks up. "Didn't think you were. Here."

I watch as his gloved hands reach down to mess with the gun holster at his thick thigh, nimble fingers unbuckling it quickly. I just stare as he dangles the holster between us.

"Take this. I will keep you safe, but if you know how to use this well, you can protect yourself."

Hesitantly, I take the holster and gun from him. A peace offering. And, I suppose, a way to trust him. Because if he turns on me, I won't hesitate to use his own weapon against him.

"Thanks," I near-whisper and buckle the holster around my jean-clad thigh. But it doesn't fit right—too loose. I fidget with it, trying to tighten it.

"Here," Leon says, crouching. On his knees before me, his quick fingers tighten the holster around my thigh. I watch without a sound; my gaze is pulled to his silky hair, the lightest blonde I've ever seen. I try not to focus on how his hands feel around my thigh.

He gives the holster a good tug, testing its hold. Satisfied with its stability, he stands, meeting my gaze. I follow his eyes, leaning my head back slightly to look up at him when he reaches his full height.

"Thanks. Again," I breathe, cringing at how my words come out so weak. He only nods.

"I—" I start, but something in my pretrial moves.

Leon and I turn to look out the rain-fogged glass to a distant light beyond. "What is that?" I say. Fires ignite in the dim light of overcast. Not fires—

"Torches," I breathe. "It's a mob of them—"

"We have to go," Leon starts, but I hear nothing but a sharp ringing, then a voice speaking in my mind. Pain sears through my skull, and I clutch my head, doubling over.

Deliver unto them salvation.

Just as soon as the pain starts, it stops, the familiar man's voice gone and the ringing ceasing, the sound of rain and distant voices chanting coming into focus.

"We need to get out of here," Leon says, and I notice that he wears signs of pain in his features. Did we experience the same thing?

"Please, stay as close to me as you can. You need to do exactly as I say," he says.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever, let's get the fuck out of this shitty place."

The church doors creak open downstairs. I feel a gloved hand on my arm and nearly jolt out of my skin at the touch. I meet eyes with Leon, and he holds up a finger to his lips.

"We have to be very quiet," he says so quietly; it almost feels too intimate. His grip on my arm intensifies. "Here, take this too." He's shucking off his leather jacket and handing it over to me in less than a second.

"You'll freeze in just a T-shirt. Plus, it's bulletproof."

My gaze catches on his bare arms; muscles flex under his smooth skin, veins trailing from his shoulders and disappearing under his fingerless gloves. I meet his burning gaze once more as he waits patiently for me to take the jacket.

I do, but Leon holds it open, offering to help me put it on. I slip into the jacket one arm at a time until the clothing consumes me. The faux fur is warm inside, still holding Leon's body heat. And while the faux leather on the outside is damp with raindrops, the inside is dry. A scent of fresh rain, forest woods, and men's body wash—or possibly a cologne—makes its way to my nose, and I try to hide my instant reaction to inhale the scent.

"Thanks, I guess," I say.

"Let's go," Leon says, and finally, the shaking in my bones lessens.