No strings attached / Leon s. Kennedy

Chapter 12

Amber

I stand at my door, staring at Leon with disbelief as he leans casually against the doorframe. Of all the nerve. What the hell is he doing here? I can feel the anger bubbling up, barely held back, as his smirk meets me. My fists clench at my sides as I glare at him, but before I can get a word out, he flashes that cocky smile—the one that's always grated on my nerves.

"Hey," he says, his voice annoyingly smooth. "I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see tonight, but... thought maybe we could talk."

Talk? He thinks this is some kind of social visit? I fold my arms, making it clear that I'm not impressed. "What are you doing here, Leon?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, though my patience is hanging by a thread.

I fold my arms, keeping him at arm's length—literally and figuratively. There's no way I'm letting him in after everything. "What are you doing here, Leon?" My voice is sharp, almost daring him to give me some bullshit excuse.

He steps closer, trying to keep that easy charm in his voice. "I figured I'd stop by, clear the air. You've been pretty upset lately, and I get it. Thought maybe we could settle things."

I feel my anger flare up again. Settle things? I know what he's after, and I'm not going to let him wiggle his way around this. I step closer, finger pointed at his chest as I push him back, making sure he knows I'm serious. "The only way we're settling this is if you cough up that letter, Leon."

He doesn't flinch, but I can see the smirk fading from his face. "I know you took it, Leon. So quit with the charm, stop acting like I'm going to fall for it, and give it back."

He stands there, trying to keep his composure, but I'm not giving him an inch. I've had enough of his games, and if he thinks he can keep up this charade, he's dead wrong. The tension between us is thick, but I'm not backing down.

Then, in a move that catches me off guard, he reaches up and places his hand on my cheek. The same way he did before, the way that made my knees go weak. His touch is gentle, and for a split second, I hesitate, my body betraying me with the memory of how close we were before.

"Come on, Amber," he says, his voice low and smooth, leaning in just a little closer. "We both know we can work this out. No need for all this tension, right?"

But this time, I'm not falling for it. I slap his hand away, anger surging back with full force. "You reek of alcohol, Leon," I snap. "You think you can waltz in here, smelling like a bar, and charm your way out of this?" My voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Get lost."

Before he can respond, I shove him back, slamming the door in his face. I stand there for a moment, my heart pounding with a mix of anger and frustration. 

I lean back against the door, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My hands are shaking—anger, stress, and everything in between coursing through me. I press my palms to the wood, trying to steady myself, but it's impossible. The second that letter is brought up, I feel like I'm going to break. The panic, the fear... it's been consuming me.

That damn letter.

It's been eating me alive, leaving me sleepless, barely able to eat. I'm scared—terrified—that Hughes will find out. I can't stop thinking about it, about what could happen if anyone at Umbrella discovers what I lost.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my thoughts. I owe everything to Umbrella. They saved me, took me in when no one else would. They've given me my entire life—my job, my future. They're my family.