Ada told herself that she didn’t deserve Leon Kennedy’s good opinion anyway. She’d never deserved it. Forgive me… As he ran back across the catwalk from the transport bay area and swung west, running blind with fear for her, she stepped out of the hub’s shadows and pointed the Beretta at his back. “Leon!” He spun around, and Ada felt her throat lock at the relief that spread across his face—and struggled not to feel anything more as the joy turned sour, his grin fading. Oh, Jesus, forgive me! “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, and felt no pride at how smooth and steady her voice sounded.
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