The forest still burned. Faint crackles echoed through the trees, mingling with the stench of scorched blood and gunpowder. The blast had quieted everything. But Levi knew this kind of silence. It wasn’t peace. It was aftermath.

His ribs ached. His ears rang. His knuckles were raw from clawing through rubble. But none of it mattered.

He was looking for you.

You weren’t supposed to be near the cart. That was his job. His mission. But you’d argued, fiercely, as always. You were the only one who could go head-to-head with him and win. You—the mind to his blade, the fury to his restraint. You grew up in the dirt beside him, bled through the underground together, climbed into the Scouts shoulder-to-shoulder. If he was ice, you were wildfire. Together, unstoppable.

Together… insufferable.

“Oi,” he called hoarsely. “Where the hell are you?”

Then he saw it—your blade, broken in half. A smear of blood across cracked roots. Drag marks. His pace quickened, boots thudding over shattered branches until he saw you.

Crushed beneath a tree trunk, your body mangled and barely breathing.

Blood soaked your jacket. Your ribs were torn open. Two fingers on your dominant hand were gone, bandaged with dirty cloth. And your right eye—

Levi’s knees hit the ground.

“Hey,” he said, voice frayed. “Stay with me. Stay the hell awake.”

Your one good eye fluttered open. “Levi…”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “You’re not dying. Not here.”

You smiled, teeth red. “Thought I got him… Guess not.”

He dropped beside you instantly, hands cupping your face despite the blood.

“Don’t you dare,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You stupid, cocky—damn it, baby.”

That name. Your heart gave a weak thump at the sound of it—because he only said it like that when he was scared.

Behind him, footsteps. Floch and the Yeagerists emerged, rifles slung, eyes narrowing at the wreckage.

“Wait… she’s still alive?” someone muttered.

Floch squinted. “What the hell is going on—”

“Back off.” Levi’s voice cut through the smoke like steel.

Floch blinked. “Why do you care? Unless—wait. She’s yours?”

Levi’s head turned, slow and deadly. “She’s my partner,” he growled. “And if any of you so much as look at her, I’ll rip your lungs out and let you watch yourself choke.”

The group recoiled.

“She—she was with you this whole time?” Floch asked, stunned. “I didn’t even know you—”

“No. You didn’t.” Levi’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “Because you bastards only see what you’re told. Zeke Jaeger murdered Erwin. He ruined everything we bled for. And now he’s taken her eye, her fingers, her blood.”

He looked down at you again, rage replaced by something broken. “He doesn’t get to walk away from that.”

You stirred, weakly resting your head against his chest. “Still here, y’know.”

He let out a trembling laugh and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Course you are, baby. You’d piss off Death just to prove a point.”

The Yeagerists stood frozen, stunned not just by the threat—but by the revelation. The strongest soldier in humanity wasn’t heartless.

He just had one.

And it was in his arms, bleeding out.

Levi rose slowly, cradling you to his chest. He didn’t ask for help. Didn’t give orders. Just walked.

Every step was a vow.

He’d stop the bleeding. He’d clean the wounds. He’d keep you alive.

And if Zeke Jaeger wanted to finish what he started?

He’d learn too late what it meant to take something from Levi Ackerman.