Red 9 Resident Evil 4 Novels & Stories

I only noticed her presence when I arrived at the bedroom door and almost jumped. "Angela? How did you get here?" I asked, puzzled. "I walked you up, ma'am," she replied with a baffled expression on her face. I nodded thoughtfully, thanked her, and took my bag before entering the room. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco smoke and pinewood emanating from a cigarette and Ares, respectively. Strangely, the scent appealed to me. Ares was seated at his desk, staring out the window with an inscrutable expression. He had changed into a green turtleneck polo and white slacks and barely glanced up as I walked in.

Within seconds, everything went black. — When Adrian came to, he was in a dim, locked room. The air was stifling. His mouth had been stuffed with a gag. He struggled, but the sound of high heels clicking against the floor froze him in place. Claire appeared, her hand tracing gently along his cheek, eyes wild with obsession. “Bet you’re disappointed to wake up and see me, huh?” she said softly. “But you don’t have a choice. Zoey’s gone. For good. She’ll never come back. Now do you see? The only one who can stay with you forever is me.”

The third floor her floor unchanged. And yet, every time I looked away, the image distorted for half a second. Like static. Like something breathing where there shouldn’t be air. I rewound the feed. Frame by frame. Nothing. Just her. Sitting on the bed. Eyes open. Looking directly into the camera. No movement. No sound. Just that unblinking stare as if she knew where the lens was. The feed crackled. For a heartbeat, her pupils went completely black. Then the static vanished.

I came back to reality with a gasp, coughing profusely as I revived. “Mariella, why the hell are you so stubborn?” Jose complained. “You'll kill yourself at this rate.” “S-Someone reach out…to Dante,” I rasped. “The pin is 9-4-4-1.” The radio crackled to life again. “Hey Dante?” Moretti said. “All ears,” Dante responded. “The pin is 9-4-4-1. I repeat 9-4-4-1.” Moretti said.

Something bright and pure to treasure and corrupt and own forever. “But this guy,” he said, and his face grew tight, “he isn’t about love at all. He’s about hurt and depravity and degradation. Is he a pedophile straight up? I don’t know. Does he like to terrify and torture? I think so. Get him, Marie.” His glowed in a strange way, matching the tiny swatch of red fabric in Marie’s purse. She slipped her fingers and crumpled them around it. “Get him.”

Evelynn POV The dawn burns blood-red over the horizon. It was the kind of sunrise that smells like smoke and endings. Engines growl to life one by one, the sound low and hungry, vibrating through the ground and straight into my bones. The air tastes like metal, oil, and anticipation. My leather jacket sticks to my skin, the scent of last night’s heat still clinging faintly to me. Even after shower. Rafe sits astride his bike, black and gleaming with dust and claw marks - the kind of machine built for war, not show. Calder adjusts his gloves beside him, quiet, focused, his gaze fixed on the horizon like he can already see the blood waiting there.

But really, I knew he was following me—because he stopped when I stopped and moved when I moved. “If you’re going to follow me,” I called out, “you could be a little less obvious. Or at least tell me which door I should go through.” There really were a lot of rooms, and I couldn’t remember if Ethan had said the right side or the left. The man seemed a little surprised, then beamed and closed the distance between us. “You must be Aria.” He tilted his head, gray eyes studying me briefly before he stuck his hand out. “I’m Lucas Ashford. Son of Gamma Marlowe Ashford.”

Aidan smirked arrogantly, but he had underestimated the determination of a trapped bird seeking freedom. "Fine, I'll just play the video. I'm afraid that if I play the recording, you'll argue that it's not you in it." Scarlett held up her phone. As the screen flashed, my chest tightened. I covered her phone, stopping her from continuing. Scarlett struggled, wanting to keep playing it, but I was stronger than her, and she couldn't resist.

He had short-cropped raven-black hair and was wearing simple denim pants and a black shirt. When Connor emerged from the rubble to return to his Alpha, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared in horror at the man standing next to Harry. "What... Why?" asked Connor as his skin closed where it had been cut. The man didn't answer and walked towards the rogue's head. Then, when he finally looked in the direction of the Red Moon Beta, his eyes revealed a glowing red color. "Why hasn't anyone seen his silver-coated fangs? What are your guards doing?" the man growled.

I hiss at her. I fling her away from me, refusing to move, even though I know that she’ll be up and at me in a matter of seconds. Never back down from an enemy. It’s what I learned at the side of the Red One. And so I won’t back down, even in the face of a torturess of Hell. Predictably, the second that I release Megeara, she’s up and streaking towards me with a clawed hand. “ENOUGH!”