They don’t manage two steps into the rain before Leon’s comm chirps. He backtracks to the covered bridge again, motioning for Ashley to stay close.
“Roost to Condor One.” Static crawls across the screen, Hunnigan’s image freezing in jerky stutters. “I’ve got some bad news.”
Leon sighs and leans against the wall of the bridge. “Great. More bad news. Give it to me, Roost. I can take it.”
“Is Baby Eagle still safe?”
Ashley leans in until she’s visible in Leon’s camera. “I’m here!” She waves with a big grin. “We’re getting out of here soon, right? I’m ready to go home.”
“I’m afraid not,” Hunnigan says, and Leon’s stomach sinks like a stone. “With the weather like this, the chopper can’t make its approach. Can you stand by until it clears?”
Leon glances toward the opposite end of the bridge, where the bright flickers of a growing number of Ganado are visible through the slates of the gate. “Negative. Too dangerous.” He taps Ashley on the shoulder and tilts his head, gesturing for her to follow. “We’ll have to find someplace safe to hole up.”
“I’m sorry,” Hunnigan says, looking genuinely apologetic. “I wish I could do more to help. How’re your supplies?”
Leon lowers his voice. He doesn’t want to worry Ashley any more than the situation calls for. “Low, but nothing I can’t handle. Don’t worry about it.”
Hunnigan visibly winces. She says something, but it’s lost to a loud curl of static, the screen freezing for long enough Leon thinks she’s lost the connection until she comes back, and he catches the end of her response. “– about you, Condor One.”
He doesn’t know the first half, but he can guess. “We’ll figure it out,” Leon says. “We’ll swim home if we have to. Condor One out.” The last is lost to static, and Leon gives up, tucking the comm into his pocket.
“How long do you think it’s going to take?” Ashley asks as they push on, funneled forward by a narrow path artificially cut through rock and dirt and lined with creaking boards.
The sky is the same dull, heavy gray it’s been for the past two hours. Leon doesn’t put any stock in the rain letting up, but at least the hurricane-force winds have eased. That band must be between them and the chopper.
“An hour. Maybe two,” he guesses. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”
Ashley tucks her hands behind her back and grins. “I’m not worried about that.” She hums to herself. “Do you think Luis is okay?”
“I’m sure he’s fine.”
The rocky path starts to give way to wooden partitions and walkways. Leon catches movement and immediately drops back, pressing his back to the wall and tucking Ashley behind him. There’s a maze of spiked palisades, a few dilapidated houses poking above the fencing, and armed Ganado stalk every corner, carrying torches and farm implements.
“What do we do?” Ashley whispers, huddling against the wall to keep herself hidden.
Leon draws his knife and drops into a crouch. “We stay low and quiet. At least until I’ve found more ammo.”
“Got it,” Ashley says. “Lead the way, Leon.”
He clears the way, knifing Ganado from behind, slitting their throats when their backs are turned. The smell of blood is nauseating in the air, not coppery, but rotten somehow. As if the Ganado are the living dead, not quite zombies, but slowly decaying on their feet.
There are traps to disable, infected creatures, and more enemies whose heads explode into writhing, parasitic masses. He finds ammo in a few of the abandoned houses, enough that he feels their chances for survival have improved. Even when he has to detour to find the crank to open the gate preventing them from moving forward.
There’s a good chance they might be able to get through this with minimal struggle.
And then they walk through the gate and the massive man with the hat appears out of nowhere, grabbing Ashley. Leon stabs him in the arm, but the man hits him with another backhand that sends Leon flying a dozen feet. He hits the ground hard, stars dancing in his eyes, bruised body taking yet another beating.
“Your soul requires cleansing,” the man intones as he closes and locks the gate behind him. He takes the bar with his massive hands and bends it around the lock, blocking off that possible avenue of escape.
What was his name? Mendoza? No. Mendez. It’s Mendez.
Ashley runs to his side, hovering, and Leon tries to get her to run, but the words are caught on a wheeze, his lungs struggling to inflate.
“Come, child,” Mendez intones, stalking toward them. Leon struggles to his feet, knees wobbly, putting himself between the large man and his charge.
He fires several shots, but they sink into massive shoulders with dull noises. Mendez never breaks stride.
Fuck.
“Run,” Leon says, turning Ashley toward the narrow, rocky path behind them. More Ganado appear in their route and dilapidated buildings line the path in creaking, tilting threats.
There’s nowhere to go but toward a rickety bridge spanning a wide crevasse, made of handfuls of weathered wooden planks supported by more of the same. No one in their right mind would cross that, but they don’t have a choice.
“Go,” Leon barks when Ashley hesitates, turning to clear a path with a few more careful shots, knocking the Ganado back.
Mendez is on their heels, relentless in his pursuit. Ashley clatters across the bridge, which creaks beneath her weight. She gets stuck halfway, boot crashing through a weak spot and wedging in the jagged hole. Leon holsters his gun and hurries to her side, dropping down to one knee to work her foot free.
The yell of an approaching Ganado reaches his ears, and Leon’s gun is in his hands, aiming down the barrel at an approaching villager wielding an ax. It only takes one shot to bring the Ganado down, and when he collapses, the bridge gives an ominous, snapping creak. The entire span of the wooden structure shudders.
It’s not going to hold.
“Ashley?”
Wood cracks as she yanks her boot free and scrambles forward without hesitation. Leon hurries to follow, just as the far end of the bridge starts to collapse in terrifying slow-motion. Ashley makes it with a handful of seconds to spare, and Leon throws himself in a terrifying leap forward, the bridge falling out from under his feet as he hits the ground hard, only tucking into a roll at the last second.
His already beleaguered body sends a cascade of offense through his nervous system, pain pop-popping through every bone and joint. But they’re alive, and Mendez is on the other side of the busted bridge, glaring at them from under the brim of his hat.
Leon climbs to his feet, aching all over, as Ashley hovers like she wants to offer him a hand, but he’s more likely to pull her down than she is to pull him up.
“That was a close one,” she says, her face spotted red from exertion around the pale of her worry. She brushes a hand over his shoulder, flicking away some pieces of wood. “Is your life always like this?”
It didn’t use to be.
“Feels like it,” Leon says. He gives himself a once-over – lost one grenade to the bridge, but all of his other weapons are accounted for. He’s got a decent amount of ammo, but given the hordes of infected on this island, it will never feel enough.
“Listen,” Leon says as he moves them away from the perilous edge and toward the slatted path leading up between two walls of rough-hewn stone, “You’re the one he wants. If we see him again, you run.”
Ashley gnaws on her bottom lip. “What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me. My job is to keep you safe, and that’s what I’m going to do.” It won’t be the first time Leon’s put himself between a monster and a civilian. Mendez isn’t even the first oversized humanoid experiment Leon’s faced down.
He doesn’t tell Ashley either of those things though. She doesn’t need his nightmares.
“How are you going to keep me safe if you die?” Ashley asks, and Leon doesn’t have an answer for that. Or at least, one that isn’t an empty platitude.
The wooden planks give way to a short platform. Leon hauls himself up, and helps Ashley follow him.
“You seem to be taking care of yourself pretty well,” Leon says. “I remember a certain candlestick.”
Pink stains Ashley’s cheeks. She ducks her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I did say I was sorry about that.”
“I’m just saying, the girl who swung at me with a candlestick, is definitely a girl who has no trouble defending herself,” Leon says. “I think you’ll do just fine.”
Ashley laughs, though it’s quiet and a bit shaky. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” She rubs her palms down her skirt. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“You got me and Luis out of that deathtrap,” Leon reminds her. Worn planks clatter beneath their feet, a few bowing beneath his weight.
“Ah. Speaking of Luis,” Ashley says, in a tone too sly to be casual. She tucks her hands behind her back, looking up at him with curiosity in her eyes. “I’m sensing something of a history there.”
Leon sighs. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” Ashley says as a massive building comes into view, looming in the wide path and necessitating that they go through it, rather than around. A No Trespassing sign denies them welcome, and a narrow wooden staircase leads up around the side, possibly to a door.
A trap if Leon’s ever seen one, but it’s not like they have a choice. There’s no other route. At least it’s finally stopped raining.
“I saw the way he looks at you,” Ashley adds. They start up the stairs, an eerie silence hanging in the air around them. “And even though I was polite enough not to eavesdrop on whatever you two were talking about, I could tell it wasn’t just the mission.”
Leon’s heart tries to crawl into his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, struggling to swallow his panic. Don’t ask, don’t tell. “I demanded more information. That’s it.”
“Sure,” she says, still smiling, and there’s something calculated behind her eyes. She’s too shrewd for her own good. “And what kind of information did you get?”
Leon cuts her off before she can walk into the building and draws his handgun, peering into the unlit space. He doesn’t have to tell Ashley to be quiet. She tucks herself near his back, but watches behind them.
The hair on the back of Leon’s neck rises. It looks like a trap. It feels like a trap. He hasn’t seen any Ganado since they bolted across the bridge. But there’s nowhere else to go.
“Be careful,” Leon murmurs. He enters ahead of Ashley, and she stays a few steps behind.
It’s dark inside, his flashlight sweeping over a raised walkway that overlooks a massive central space, full of dark shadows. It’s the size of a barn, but feels like a storage shed. A place clutter goes to rot. On the far end of the walkway, he can just barely make out a ladder leading to the bottom level, and from there, a set of barn doors – their way out.
“You never answered me,” Ashley says as Leon rounds the first corner of the walkway, flashlight occasionally sweeping down to check his footing. “What kind of–”
The wall to Leon’s right abruptly explodes into shards of wood and stone as something impacts his right side with enough force to send him straight through the railing. He’s airborne before he can catch his breath, ears ringing, tumbling in the dark, and then he hits the ground hard, crashing into junk, bits of shattered plank raining around him.
Agony lances through his entire body. Leon wheezes, spots in his eyes, air punched out of his lungs. He smells blood, a dozen tiny splinters piercing his bare arms, his collar, his throat, his cheek. Dust rises in a choking cloud.
“Leon!” Ashley shouts for him, terror in her voice.
A thunderous slam shakes the wood floor beneath Leon. Dazed, he pushes himself upright, shaking his head, trying to get his vision to stop wobbling.
“Leon! Get up!” Ashley hollers. “He’s coming!”
Who?
Leon staggers to his feet, drawing his handgun, flashlight sweeping through the dark, through the dust cloud, and right across the massive shoulders of Mendez, stalking toward him with murderous intent.
“Cease your pointless struggling.” Mendez doesn’t break stride as two bullets sink into his body, tearing holes in his long coat, knocking his hat to the ground. “Abandon your body to the will of our god.”
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck.
Leon switches to the shotgun, pumping a blast right into Mendez’s stomach. “Fuck your god, you shitty mercenary,” he snarls, and fires off another blast.
Mendez pauses, but not because of the pellets littering his body, several raining to the floor in a patter of clicks. No, the asshole pauses to pick up his hat, brushing dust from the brim.
“Oh, Almighty,” he drones, replacing the hat on his head. “Grant me the strength to crush your enemies.”
Shit.
“Ashley, run!” Leon shouts as he looks around for something, anything to use to distract Mendez. That’s the only chance she has.
“But–”
“I said run!”
Look around, rookie! Get your head out of your ass and pay attention!
Leon’s flashlight sweeps over a metal barrel, brightly marked Flammable. He darts toward it, tossing the barrel on its side and kicking it toward Mendez. It thunders across the floor, swallowing the sound of Ashley on the catwalk above them, fleeing out the hole Mendez had made in the wall.
“Here goes nothing,” Leon says as Mendez stops the barrel with his foot, looking down at it, unconcerned.
Bang!
The barrel erupts in a gout of flame, spewing fire in all directions, a backwash of suffocating heat slamming into him. Leon throws up a hand, trying to protect his eyes from the heat. Mendez gets lost in a sea of crimson and orange, the fire spreading in a burning tide, eating into the dry wood of the building, and the junk scattered around the perimeter. The nauseating stench of gasoline and burning clutter burns at Leon’s nostrils.
“God, I thank you for your gift.” Mendez’s voice emerges from the flame.
Leon drops his arm, and where the massive humanoid shape had been, a tall, spindly monster stands in its place, spine over-elongated with Mendez’s upper torso dangling from the top like an angler fish. His skin is charred, peeling back from his flesh, and two scorpion-like tails curve out from his back.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any uglier,” Leon rasps, dropping the empty clip and switching it out for a new one. “And here I am, all out of bug spray.”
The fire spreads faster than he can track, the heat immense, the flames near-blinding, illuminating what Leon had thought was just a storage barn for junk. Clutter lines every corner and butchered cows hang from the ceiling like macabre chandeliers. Leon’s still running low on bullets, and something tells him his combat knife isn’t going to be much help.
At least Ashley is safe.
Leon doesn’t remember much of what comes next. Because he doesn’t think, he just survives, focusing on Mendez’s every movement so he can be prepared for the next strike. Dodging on instinct. Choking on smoke. Fire nipping at his heels.
He targets joints, weak spots, anything that might bring Mendez down. Two shotgun blasts sever Mendez’s spine where it connects to his lower half, and Leon celebrates for half a second as the legs topple to the ground. But Mendez pulls himself into the rafters like an acrobat, making him twice as hard to hit, twice as mobile.
Leon doesn’t panic. There isn’t time to panic. He loads the last handful of shells into his shotgun, his heart climbing into his throat, ready to dodge the sharp-edged swipes of those scorpion arms.
Don’t think, rookie. Act. We’re hunters. Killers. It’s in our nature. Fucking act!
Mendez swings around and around, and then Leon sees it. The pulsing, bulbous spot right at the top of his spine, flesh moving beneath the knot, like a parasite. Like a weak spot.
Like a target.
Two bullets to the face don’t kill Mendez, but they do stun him for a few crucial seconds. He drops to the floor, limbs spastic in all directions, and Leon drops down on top of him, jarring his legs all the way up to his hips.
There’s no time to think about pain, numbness, tingling in his toes. A flailing limb cuts a line of fire across his back, around his left bicep. He digs his fingers around a protruding bit of bone and carapace and god knows what else as Mendez starts to push up, and his knife flashes, reflecting the bright flame as Leon stabs. Again and again, turning that pulsating pustule to mush.
Blood and other fluids spurt out, something hissing like acid as it splatters on his thigh. Mendez makes an animal sound, thrashing beneath Leon, but he digs his fingers in around gristle, blood slippering across his hand, and stabs again. Again. Until the tip of his blade hits something solid with a jarring thud, radiating up into his elbow.
Mendez collapses, taking Leon with him, a hissing groan escaping from cracked lips. “Lord Saddler,” he groans, until Leon twists the knife, and then there’s silence.
Except for the crackling fire as it burns, burns, burns.
Leon climbs to his feet, staggers, chest heaving. The air is thick with smoke, hot, cinders falling on his hair and arms. Mendez doesn’t get up again. Something shines on the ground in front of his skull.
It’s Mendez’s eye. What had seemed organic is nothing more than a false eye. Leon picks it up. On this island, nothing is as it seems. He might need this thing later.
“Give my regards to your god,” Leon mutters, tipping the eye at the corpse, starting to deflate into a pile of noxious goop amid the sawdust-covered floor.
He tucks the eye into his pocket, and when he turns, the world is a sea of flame. The walls, the ceiling, the clutter are all awash in crimson and orange and white. The heat is relentless, stealing the air from his lungs, the moisture from his eyes. It sparks on the sawdust, popping closer and closer to his boots.
The ladder to the upper level burns behind a bonfire made of a stack of pallets. The double-doors are bolted shut from the inside, easy enough to lift, if they weren’t blocked by a raging inferno made of old furniture. The ceiling crackles and part of it collapses inward.
Leon leaps back, hands up to shield his face, as a wave of ashy, spark-heavy wind slams into him. All he can taste is smoke and burning flesh. He can’t see through the smoke. Another small explosion echoes from his left, following the sound of broken glass.
He drops to one knee, coughing.
“Leon!” Ashley’s voice cuts through the crackle of burning. “This way!”
He tries to orient toward her voice, peering through the thick smoke. There’s a change in the airflow, pulling to his left, the barest waft of a fresher breeze.
“Hurry! The whole thing’s about to collapse!”
Another piece of the ceiling comes crashing down. Leon bolts in the direction of Ashley’s voice, leaping over a burning wheelbarrow, as the square shape of an open window comes into view. Fire licks at his heels. Stray cinders land on his arms, burning, burning.
Ashley gestures frantically toward him, looking so pale against the backdrop of evening and fire. Something topples and a fire drenched wheel rolls Leon’s direction. He leaps over it and dives out the window just as an echoing crack heralds the full collapse of the ceiling behind him.
He hits the ground hard, left shoulder slamming first, radiating agony outward. That shoulder hasn’t been the same since Raccoon City, and all blows he’s taken on this mission haven’t helped.
Stars dance in Leon’s eyes. He sucks in huge gulps of cold, clean air, the taste of smoke and ash clinging to his tongue.
“Oh, no.” Ashley drops down beside him, her hands patting over his shoulders, his back, where lingering cinders burn through fabric and try to bite at his skin.
“Don’t– don’t hurt yourself,” Leon gasps, trying to twist out of her reach, but Ashley just sets her jaw and swipes at the rest before it can do him more harm.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think I am, but I’m not going to let you burn if I can do something about it,” Ashley huffs. Her hands hover, her face pinched with worry. “Also, you’re welcome. I had to throw a chair through that window, you know.”
Leon coughs and rolls over onto his back, staring blearily up at the sky where gouts of smoke climb toward the stars. “You were supposed to run,” he rasps.
Ashley sits back on her heels, resting her arms on her knees. “Like I said, I’m not that kind of person.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, looking him over. “You okay?”
“I’ll survive.”
Leon lets himself ache. He lays there and counts to ten, letting his body throb and complain and burn and hurt. But when he reaches ten, he makes himself sit up. He tucks all the agony into a box. He’s got a mission to complete, and Ashley needs to get home safe.
He doesn’t have time for pain.
Soldiers don’t have time for pain.
Ashley stands and leans over, offering him her hand. “We should probably get going. Something tells me they’re all going to notice a whole building that’s on fire.”
“I think you’re right.” Leon takes her hand, though he doesn’t need it, and pretends to let her drag him to his feet. He brushes dirt from his cargos. “Thanks. I’d have been well done without your help.”
“We make a pretty good team,” Ashley agrees with a grin, though it slips a moment later. “Am I going to turn into one of those things?”
Leon shakes his head and runs through a quick check of his gear. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” And not if Luis comes through for them. “I promise.”
Ashley’s smile is a bit stronger this time. “I believe you.”
They have to keep moving forward. There’s another rickety bridge spanning a deep chasm, but Leon opts for the path sloping upward, stone set into dirt and forest lining either side. It’s enough of an incline that his thighs burn as they reach the stop, and Ashley makes a noise of disgruntlement.
“I’m not in good enough shape for this,” she says, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Might be time to cut back on the ice cream.”
Leon’s shoulder aches, so he digs his fingers into the meat of it, trying to rub out the cramp. “I’d kill for a milkshake.”
“I’m starving,” Ashley sighs. “I mean, sometimes I’m starving, and then I see one of those villagers turn into a giant bug monster, and suddenly, I’m not so hungry. But right now? Starving.”
Leon can relate. Food is the last thing on his mind right now, thirst being the most pressing concern. His mouth is dry and gummy with the taste of smoke. He’s sweated out more than he’s consumed, and he hasn’t trusted any of the sources of water he’s come across.
At the top of the hill, a rusted truck sits forgotten on the side of the path, but stretching out before them is a massive structure made of stone. It’s the largest building Leon’s seen on the island by far, and the tall towers immediately make him think of medieval fairy tales.
Ashley drags to a stop beside him, bending to rest her hands on her thighs. “The rain’s stopped at least,” she pants before she straightens and her eyes go wide. “Is that a castle? Who would put a castle here?”
“It’s probably been here for centuries,” Leon guesses, taking in the cracked stones and aging facade. It looks dull in the moonlight, torches flickering from sconces visible in high towers, a ragged flag flapping in the breeze.
A wooden bridge spans yet another chasm, cutting sharply through the landscape. Leon can’t see any immediate threats, but that castle looks like an enemy fortress. There must be more of the plaga infected inside. Perhaps even Lord Saddler. It’s probably the worst place to take Ashley.
“Are we going in?” Ashley asks.
Leon hesitates. It might be safer to go back, see where that bridge takes them. But it’s getting dark, and the castle would be a better shelter. It’s large enough they may be able to sneak through without capturing any undue attention. Or by going inside, they’re heading right where Los Illuminados wants them.
“Leon?”
“I don’t–”
His comm beeps before he can finish answering. Saved by the beep. Leon answers without looking at the receiver, fully expecting it to be Hunnigan with the good news – their evac is on the way, and he can get Ashley to real medical care without having to rely on Luis Serra.
“Condor One here,” Leon says as the static on the screen resolves into the face of one Luis Serra, far too close to the camera.
“Hola, Condor One,” Luis says with far too much glee in his voice. “It’s me, Condor Two.”
Leon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not how it works, Luis.”
“Then you’ll just have to come up with a more suitable name for me.” Luis’ wink is far too exaggerated for Leon to take it seriously. “Glad to see you’re both still alive and kicking.”
“Literally,” Ashley says as she leans in to peer at the screen. She gives Luis a friendly little wave. “You should see the way Leon takes out the bad guys.”
“I’m sure it’s a sight.” Luis chuckles and finally leans further back from the camera so they can see more than half his face. “Where are you?”
“I thought about going home, but Ashley just had to see this castle first,” Leon says. “You know how it is with tourists.”
“Seriously?” Ashley hisses, stepping out of view of the camera to add, “Don’t you know how to flirt?” She pokes him in the bicep.
Leon’s cheeks threaten to heat. “No one’s flirting here,” he hisses back, and hopes Luis’ quiet chuckle is enough to distract him from Ashley’s commentary.
“I know how it is when a pretty lady asks for a favor,” Luis drawls, and he looks at something past the screen, head tilting like he’s talking to someone else. “Anyway, I’ve got a present for both of you. Something to help suppress that unwanted souvenir.”
Finally. Some good fucking news.
“Where do we find you?” Leon asks.
“Good question.” Luis looks around again, and Leon gets a glimpse of bricked stone. He must already be inside the castle. “Come to the courtyard inside of the castle. We’ll meet up there and I can give Ashley the personal tour, ey?”
Ashley pops back in to say, “I can’t wait.”
Luis laughs and wiggles his fingers at the screen. “Ciao!”
The screen goes dark, leaving Leon looking at his own reflection – filthy, haggard, streaked with blood. He tucks the comm away.
That settles that, he supposes. He’s going into the castle whether he likes it or not. But first, to address the beaming woman beside him, who has mischief in her eyes.
“What was that about?” he asks.
Ashley’s grin widens. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says.
Leon narrows his eyes, but she’s no wilting flower. Her strength in this situation proves it. She just raises an eyebrow at him and crosses her arms.
“I’m not stupid,” she says. “I told you. I noticed the way you look at each other. There’s a past there, and if you don’t tell me, I’m just going to make assumptions.”
The panic threatens to rise again, but Leon pushes it down, straight into the box where he keeps the various agonies demanding he rest and recover. “It’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it?” Ashley kicks a small stone with the tip of her boot. “If I want to survive, I have to trust you. If I want a cure, I have to trust Luis. I think that makes it my business.”
Leon works his jaw. She has a point. She needs a reason to trust both of them. Leon can show her his badge, can tell her how he knows President Graham, can talk about all the official reasons to believe in him, even if it means calling up Hunnigan.
He can’t give her any good, official, logical reason to trust Luis, except to do so by proxy, by trusting in Leon first.
Leon sighs. “I did know him. Six years ago. But the only real knowledge I have of him came from STRATCOM’s files.” She doesn’t need to know the personal details. “He is a scientist. A brilliant one. I don’t think he has any intention of hurting us.”
“Were you friends?”
And there it is, heat spreading across his cheeks, his face, into his ears. “Sure, you could say that.” Leon ducks his head, scratching the back of his neck. “We don’t need to worry about that right now. We should get moving.”
He starts toward the bridge, and thank god, Ashley follows. Because she can’t ask him anymore highly personal questions if she stays behind.
“Seems to me this is the perfect time.” She catches up and passes him, turning to walk around backward, completely fearless. “Did you expect to run into him here?”
“You really should watch where you’re going,” Leon says.
Ashley rolls her eyes, but turns back around, walking beside him at a more sedate pace. “You really don’t like answering questions, do you?”
“Because I’m on a mission. My personal life isn’t relevant,” Leon says as they step off the other end of the bridge and right outside the massive walls of the castle.
A sudden creak makes Leon whirl, handgun leaping to his hands, but it’s just the bridge separating into two halves, both of which are rising up into the air, cutting them off from backtracking.
“Someone doesn’t want us going back,” Ashley mutters.
“At least we don’t have to worry about being followed,” Leon says. His skin crawls with discomfort. He tilts his head toward the castle. “Let’s go.”
“Lead the way,” Ashley chirps. “After all, we don’t want to be late for your date.”
Leon opens his mouth to argue before he decides against it. Nope. That would be adding fuel to the flame. Instead, he checks his ammo situation, which is woefully inadequate, and shoves all the rest into a box.
He’s here for Ashley.
Nothing else matters.
***
Pandora's Box 