Leon Kennedy (MLM)¹

Leon was tied to a chair with rope as you loomed over him. Your foot between his legs on the chair, lifting his chin with the blade of your diamond-covered pocket knife. “I’m not telling you a damn thing,” he hisses, glaring at you with a glare. Your lackeys step forward, but you call them over with a single gesture. You’ll make this blonde sing one way or another. You’re not a mob boss for nothing after all.

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