Ethan From Resident Evil 7 Novels & Stories

a low, gravelly voice sounded nearby. I turned slowly, a soft, natural smile touching my lips. Ethan Reyes was stepping up the timber stairs from the craft house, carrying a long cedar beam over his broad shoulder. He wore a heavy heather-grey henley with the sleeves pushed up past his forearms, showing muscle forged through years of honest, physical work. His dark, wavy hair caught the golden morning light, and his amber eyes met mine with a steady, captivating warmth that sent a quiet electric pulse through my chest.

She knew exactly what kind of night this was. “Office,” Ethan said. Victor followed without a word. The door locked behind them. The sounds of the bar dulled to a low throb through the walls, music, laughter, clinking ice. Safe distance. Ethan dropped into the chair behind the desk. Victor leaned against the edge, arms crossed, watching him. The room smelled faintly of sex from earlier, Remy’s perfume, Ethan’s release. Neither mentioned it. Ethan reached into the bottom drawer, pulled out a small mirrored tray, a razor blade, and a tiny plastic baggie of fine white powder. He tapped out two generous lines with practiced ease. The mirror caught the overhead light, throwing sharp reflections a

The man loaded his gun and was about to shoot Levi when his eyes fell on Ethan. Ethan looked like he saw a ghost. The man squinted his eyes before a cunning smirk curled on his lips. “Wait for a second, is that Dante’s pet?” The man spoke. Levi frowned as he saw Ethan hiding behind him. “It is, isn’t it?” The man disgusting checked out Ethan. Levi gulped and curled his hands into fists. “What was his name?” He tapped his finger to his lip before he continued, “Ahh, right. Ethan.” The man chuckled.

Beside me, Ethan was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythms. I smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair off his forehead. He had no idea what I’d done last night. The ether—an odorless, potent concoction I’d acquired through some very specific means—had kept him in a dreamless slumber. Even now, his face seemed unusually pale, and there was a subtle tick in his jaw. When he finally stirred, his eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. He groaned, bringing a hand to his temple.

I responded and opened the car, getting down quickly from there! Ethan also came after me as the both of us approached the Exhumer who was standing right before the entrance of the cemetery. He was tall, muscled and quiet had the abs. Too good enough to be called an Exhumer. “Good day, Mr Morale!” He greeted Ethan, giving me a cool grin of a lovely meet. I mirrored the smile, brushing my hair behind my hair as the air was quite too much in the area. “You are very good at this, am I right?” Ethan asked, putting his phone in his wallet.

Footsteps drew closer, until the familiar flash of blonde hair caught the moonlight as Ethan stepped into view. "Ah, sleeping beauty is finally awake!" He chuckled, his eyes black and sharp like obsidian under the faint light. "I was starting to think I gave you too much." "What the hell did you do to me?" Eva growled. "Just gave you a little tranquilizer laced with Wolfsbane." Ethan shrugged casually as if sharing a recipe. "Nasty stuff, burns like a bitch if you get it on your skin but you already know that because I used it on the ties binding your wrists."

His gaze drops to my neck, and the corner of his lip quirks. “Blake,” growls Ethan. “What does he want?” When the girl leaves, Blake walks toward us with his hands in the pockets of his breeches. Halfway across the grassy expanse, he halts. Ethan sniffs the air, then jumps to his feet. The two of them turn their heads toward the hill on the other side of the castle. “What is it?” I ask, alarmed, as I get up. “Horses. Fergus. Vladimir. And... and John.” Ethan’s body is rigid, his breathing hard. “They’re coming. I can smell them. And blood. I smell blood. Lots of blood.” He swallows, and his face whitens. “John’s blood.”

“Yeah, well, the prophecy didn’t ask for my permission.” Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, deliberate, not running like the others. A figure stepped through the wreckage—tall, lean, dark hair pulled back, eyes sharp as broken glass. Ethan. Relic Discovery Lead for the underground network that had been feeding us scraps of truth for months. He looked like he’d run through hell to get here and still had the energy to look pissed. “You picked a hell of a night for a family reunion,” he said, stepping over a dead wolf without looking down. “But I’ve got something. Something that might keep you from tearing yourself apart the next time that happens.”

Yet, he chose this course, partly to please Valerius Evander and partly to secure his own standing in court. Valerius Evander made his way to the Celestial Garden. From afar, he saw Ethan reclining on a chaise under the cascading wisteria of the Twilight Moon arbor. The golden sunlight bathed Ethan in a soft, radiant glow. Strands of his hair shimmered like threads of light, and his serene face was akin to a masterful sculpture. His skin was alabaster and flawless, his phoenix eyes closed in a light slumber, lashes long and curled like butterfly wings. His pale lips carried a faint smile—pure yet irresistibly captivating.

“Ethan’s in Miami?” Javier nodded, his voice steady but cautious. “Yeah, boss. He was spotted at the cemetery attending Reynolds’ funeral. He’s really alive.” I laughed, a cold, bitter sound that echoed off the walls. “Alive. Fucking alive.” I straightened, my hands curling into fists, my mind a storm of rage and calculation. Lucian’s message wasn’t just a taunt; it was a declaration of war. He’d slaughtered my men, spiked their heads like trophies, and now Ethan was back, ready to dig deeper into my operations with Ryan and those corrupt FBI bastards. I wasn’t just going to sit here and take it.