Leon Kennedy Older Novels & Stories

Making Kennedy out to be some kind of victim. The segment continued, showing more photos—old ones of Kennedy and me at various events, looking like the perfect couple. Newer ones of Orion at business functions, looking powerful and successful. They even had some "relationship expert" on now, some woman I'd never heard of, speculating about my motivations and my character and my supposed affair.

Kennedy nodded, “oui, they were friends a very long time ago. They lived together. He probably has some pictures from that time. Maybe we can ask him when he wakes up.” “Merci, Kenny.” Leon said, and he extended his little hands and gave her a hug, almost crawling on top of her. “Ça va aller, petit Leon. Really, it’s going to be okay. Your daddy is a really good guy. He’s sweet, funny, and a bit silly. He’s a teacher too, so he can help you learn a lot of cool things.” “And you?” Leon asked, looking up into Kennedy's eyes. Kennedy giggled, “Well, I, mon ami, have more money than I can ever spend, and I will buy you whatever you want. Just don’t tell your daddy, because he will make you do ch

“You don’t look old. When I first met you, I thought you were in your early 30s.” Kennedy really didn’t look old. He was in his 40s, but he wasn’t balding or had a big belly, or even looked out of shape like other men his age. He, Erwin, and Strix were the men who became more dashing as they grew older, like red wine, getting better with age.

Leonardo pressed, "What's going on?" "Why aren't you talking?" Leonardo continued to ask. "Madelyn has advanced brain cancer," Kennedy finally said. "She's in a coma post-surgery." Leonardo was stunned. "Why am I just hearing about this? Take me to the hospital, now!" "Grandpa, she didn't want to worry you," Kennedy assured him. "She's getting the best care. There's no need to worry." Unknown to many, Leonardo Monet was actually part of the Johnson family. He had taken up the surname Monet to forge his own path, away from the shadow of his family's legacy, leaving few aware of his connection to Kennedy as his grandfather.

Killian, “If you really want to keep her in the family then let Kennedy or even you marry her. It doesn’t have to be me.” My father actually rolled his eyes then he waved at me dismissively when I mentioned my younger brother. Kennedy was more of a playboy than I am. He liked to go out, party and fuck. That is all he does. And that is why I think no I know he will be perfect for Nora. They are the same person but in different genders.

“We should find them and skewer them on a stick! How dare they kill Kennedy?! He was like a brother to us!” ‘He was only like a brother to you, whoever you are,’ I said in my mind. But Kennedy was an elder, and so I had to accord him with that respect. I opened my mouth to talk, and closed it when another elder cried out in anguish. That was how it went for the next forty-five minutes, with various elders giving their own opinions and never leaving room for me to speak. I could have easily ordered them to be quiet, but I was tired, and coupled with the odd feeling of missing something, I was somewhat content with them just bickering among themselves.

He frowns and his frown only deepens as he reads the letter. “Dad! Did you know about this?” he asks, holding up my letter. “What is it?” my father asks, carrying Kennedy’s daughters Kaylee and Kendra who are hanging on him. Those two will most likely end up at the Warrior Academy one day. They’re both very much like their father and even at two years old, these girls love nothing more than to spar and spar hard. Considering they’re half of Kennedy’s quads, you’d think all four were the same, but no. The other two are just like Kennedy; sweet, quiet, and studious.

he says pointing to Hore. "Her, got a job to do, you know?" she reminded him. "Fine, but if you wake up with an even a headache don't bother coming, I'll inform the boss," Kennedy says walking toward me, giving me a quick hug and a kiss on the top of my head before leaving, he treats us like his kids, although he's only a couple years older than me, but he was raised from childhood in the courtrooms. "Bye, Kenny," I say waving at his retrieving back, I liked that guy very much, he acts like he's part of our family more than being just a senior at work.

He trades a look between Lily and Dawn, seeing how they look so alike and also, so different. I retreat inside once more, grabbing my sweet Jax, and bouncing him gently in my arms as I sit back down on the porch to join the others. Kennedy seems enthused at the sight of Jax the most, I can see his eyes light up as I brush his little black hairs back off his pale forehead. He strikes a damning resemblance to his father, no doubts there. “A son, that’s perfect!” King Kennedy is overjoyed, gently bouncing Lily on his lap. “He will one day take over my pack!”

Something in Leon’s face settled into something I recognized. Not relief. Resolve. “Kennedy,” he said, without looking away from me. Kennedy appeared at the gate with the expression of a man who had been listening to everything and had the grace to pretend he hadn’t. “Talk,” Leon said. Kennedy looked between us. Then he unclasp his hands from behind his back and reached into his jacket and produced a document I recognized — old paper, old ink, the specific quality of something that had been preserved carefully for a very long time.