The city was quieter that evening, like it too was tired of holding its breath.
Viper stood outside the building for a moment, his towering frame wrapped in a dark coat, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. He hadn't smoked in months. Ayla made him quit. But tonight, the silence demanded it.
He didn't knock when he entered. The guard downstairs had already phoned in his arrival, and besides, he knew his way around Leon's place too well. This wasn't just a stranger's territory — once, it had almost been home.
Maureen opened the door. Her smile faltered the moment she saw him.
"Is Leon in?" he asked gruffly.
She didn't answer. Just stepped aside, her eyes lingering too long on his face. Viper could feel her trying to place herself in the scene — possessive, defensive, territorial.
But this wasn't about her.
Leon was sitting alone at the dining table, half a glass of whiskey abandoned beside his untouched food. His eyes were bloodshot. His knuckles bruised. He didn't flinch when Viper entered — just leaned back and let the weight of the silence settle between them.
"You came all the way here just to stare at me?" Leon muttered.
Viper shrugged. "Heard you went on a rampage."
Leon scoffed, rubbing his jaw. "That's one way to put it."
"And that Maureen girl took a bullet for you." He gave Leon a long, unreadable look. "Funny. I never pegged her for the type."
Leon didn't respond. Didn't need to.
Viper walked closer, pulled out a chair, and sat across from him. "You know, when Ayla went missing… I hated you."
Leon didn't move.
"I hated how much she trusted you. How you walked into our world and made it yours. I blamed you, every day. Thought if you'd fought harder, if you'd loved her right, maybe she'd still be alive." He paused. "But when she came back… and I saw your face the moment you suspected it was her, I knew."
"Knew what?"
"That you never stopped loving her."
Leon's jaw clenched. He turned away. "Love didn't matter in the end, did it?"
"No," Viper said simply. "It didn't."
The room fell into a silence that was almost respectful. The kind only two men who've shared war — and grief — can understand.
"I came to see how you're holding up," Viper finally said. "She chose someone else. That can break a man."
Leon gave a bitter chuckle. "She didn't just choose him. She fell for him while she didn't even know who she was. That's worse."
"She's not thinking clearly," Viper said. "She's healing. And scared. You broke her once, Leon. You know that."
"I broke her because I thought she was Celeste," Leon snapped. "I was protecting myself from a lie."
"And now you know the truth," Viper said calmly. "So what are you going to do with it? Sit here and rot? Keep dodging bullets while you act like it doesn't hurt?"
Leon exhaled. "She loves him."
"She thinks she does," Viper corrected. "But hearts aren't so quick to forget, Leon. Give her time. And don't let guilt drag you down. I've lost too many sons to that."
Leon blinked at that. "Sons?"
Viper's voice softened. "You may not be blood. But you were mine too. Ayla made sure of that."
Leon's throat tightened. He looked away.
"I should go," Viper said, rising. "You need rest. And space."
Leon stood as well, slower this time. "Thanks… for coming."
"I didn't come for you," Viper smirked. "I came for the man Ayla used to love. Make sure he's still in there somewhere."
He turned, and before he left, he added, "She might've picked Damien. But if the real Leon shows up again — the one who would burn the world for her — she won't forget that."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Leon stood there, fists at his sides, eyes fixed on the wall.
He was still here.
And maybe… just maybe… so was she.