The light from the tall windows spilled across the floor, soft and warm. Alexa blinked awake slowly, still on the couch. Her bandaged finger itched, but the pain was dull now—just a reminder of last night. Of the crystal. The locked door. The way everything changed.
She sat up, eyes still hazy.
Levi was already there.
Sitting on the other couch, one leg crossed over the other, watching the news on the muted screen. A cup of something dark in his hand. He hadn't noticed her stir. Or maybe he had, but didn't say anything.
She stared at him for a moment. His face was calm, unreadable. Almost too calm.
Her voice came out low. Sleepy. "You just gonna sit there all quiet?"
Levi turned his head slowly and looked at her. His lips tugged—just a little.
A smile.
Nothing smug. Just something small, like a flicker of ease that passed through him for a second.
Alexa looked away, brushing hair from her face. "I had a dream," she mumbled. "A bad one."
He didn't ask. Just sipped his drink and said, "That's normal. People dream."
She hugged her knees to her chest. "I don't want to just dream. I want to live again. I want normal."
Levi's eyes stayed on the screen. "The human world you miss so much—it's cruel, Alexa. Out there's where betrayal starts. Rumors. Scandals. Pain."
She frowned. "Working in a bank doesn't sound like betrayal to me. Or being a cashier. It's not dangerous."
He looked at her now. Straight on. Voice low. "You think it's about the job? It's about how far you'll be from me."
Her breath caught.
"I have enemies," he said. "You have them now, too. You just don't know it yet. If something happens to you out there, I won't be able to protect you."
"You want me close."
"Yes."
His honesty made her feel smaller somehow. Like the room shrank around them. She lowered her head, resting her chin on her knee.
"I just want this to be over," she whispered. "All of it. I want to go back. To the version of me that didn't know any of this."
Levi's voice was quiet. "You used to be normal."
She looked at him.
"But the world didn't deserve that version of you," he said.
Silence stretched between them. The kind of silence that wasn't empty. Just full of things neither of them could fix.
Alexa turned her head back to the window.
He didn't stop her from dreaming of normal.
But he didn't let her chase it either.
And maybe that was the scariest part.
Alexa hadn't moved from the couch for a while. She sat there hugging her knees, watching the silent flicker of the TV screen—some news station running footage of a riot somewhere she didn't care about.
Levi had disappeared into another room after their talk. She thought maybe he left again. But then she heard something.
Not boots.
Plates.
Her brows lifted.
When he returned, he didn't say a word. Just walked past her, set a tray on the coffee table, and sat beside her—not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.
"Toast," he said.
Alexa blinked. "You… made this?"
"I toasted it," he said without looking at her. "Technically not the same thing."
She tried to smother the tiny smile tugging at her lips.
There were two slices of toast, a small glass of orange juice, and something that looked like eggs—scrambled, slightly overdone.
"You don't seem like the type to cook."
"I'm not."
A pause.
Then, quietly, he added, "But you looked like you hadn't eaten."
She stared at the tray. "Thanks," she muttered.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
She picked up one of the toasts and took a bite. It was dry, but it was food. And somehow, it meant more than that.
Levi leaned back, resting an arm over the edge of the couch, eyes distant. His coat hung loosely off his frame like he hadn't bothered fixing it right.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"I'm always okay," he replied.
Alexa glanced at him. "That's not what I asked."
His eyes flicked to her then—silver, unreadable.
"You bled on something ancient," he said slowly. "And I evolved."
She froze, toast halfway to her mouth.
"…Right."
"I've trained for years, searching for whatever was locked in me. Tried everything to trigger it. Rituals. Seals. Blood magic."
He tilted his head. "None of it worked. Until you touched that thing."
Alexa looked down at her hand, at the thin bandage still wrapped around it.
"I didn't mean to," she whispered.
"I know."
He paused.
"But sometimes the things that change us most... aren't planned."
His voice was quieter now. Not cruel. Not cold. Just honest.
She put the toast down. "You're saying I helped you… by accident?"
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "you woke something. In me. And maybe… in you too. I just don't know what yet."
Alexa's shoulders stiffened. "Well, I feel the same. I don't know what's changing, but I'm not ready for anything weird."
"You don't feel different?"
"No," she said quickly. "Just tired. And sore. And maybe a little… haunted."
He gave the tiniest nod, like that was enough.
Another stretch of silence.
Then, she asked, "Why didn't you get mad? Last night. I expected yelling. Rage. A full-on demonic tantrum."
He gave a faint chuckle. "I don't tantrum."
"You glare dramatically."
"That's not a tantrum. That's a warning."
They both went quiet again. A softer quiet, not tense.
She risked a glance at him.
"I just want this to be over, Levi," she said quietly. "I want to go back to being someone normal."
Levi didn't answer right away.
Then, in a low voice, he said, "You used to be. But the world didn't deserve you."
Alexa blinked at him.
For a second, she saw something in his face—something raw, something that maybe wasn't supposed to be said out loud. She looked away.
"…Thanks for the toast," she murmured.
He stood then. Took the tray, walked toward the kitchen.
But before he disappeared, he paused in the doorway.
"Don't sleep on the couch again," he said without turning around.
"I didn't choose to."
"You could've knocked."
"I did. You ignored me."
"Next time… knock louder."
And he was gone.
*****
The hallway was quiet.
Alexa sat there a moment longer, staring at the empty doorway where Levi had just walked through. The toast sat half-eaten on the plate.
She sighed, shoved the blanket off her lap, and stood quickly—barefoot, heart tugging.
"Levi?" she called.
No answer.
She hurried after him, crossing the wide hallway until she caught the swing of his coat disappearing around the corner.
"Levi, wait!"
He stopped at the end of the hall, turning halfway. His brows lifted slightly.
She slowed as she reached him, suddenly out of breath though she hadn't run far.
"I know I can't get a job," she said quickly, "and I get that the whole world might be out to kill me or use me or whatever, but…"
She exhaled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Can I at least go out today? Just for a little while? Nothing crazy. Just… I don't know. Walk. Shop. Pick a snack for myself. Breathe air that doesn't smell like cigars and blood rituals."
Levi blinked once.
Then again.
Alexa's voice softened. "I just want to feel like a person. Even if it's only for ten minutes."
He looked at her for a long time. Quiet. Still. You could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the far room.
Then finally, he said, "You can go."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"But not alone," he added.
Of course.
He turned fully to her now. "You'll take the driver. And you'll stay in public places."
Alexa nodded. "Deal."
"No slipping into dark alleys. No following strangers. No touching cursed antiques."
She made a face. "You say that like I do it every day."
"You do."
"…Okay, fair."
He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a sleek black card, and held it out to her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Yours for the day," he said. "It doesn't have a limit."
She hesitated. "You're serious?"
"I'm not giving it because I trust you," he said flatly. "I'm giving it because if you do something reckless, I want to be able to trace every last thing you touch."
Alexa rolled her eyes but took the card anyway.
"I'll be back before dark," she said.
He paused.
Then murmured, "You'd better be."
Their eyes met. Not angry. Not cold. Just… watching each other.
Then he stepped past her and disappeared again.
Alexa stared at the card in her hand.
For the first time in days, she smiled a little.
Something human.
Even if it only lasted a while.
*****
Levi stayed by the window, eyes fixed on the iron gates as Alexa walked through them—barefoot, stubborn, her hair half-brushed and face still raw with sleep. She hadn't even looked back.
A muscle jumped in his jaw.
What was this?
Any other girl, he would've locked down. Kept on a leash. This one? She asked for freedom, and he opened the door himself.
"Stupid," he muttered.
He turned from the glass, ran a hand down his face, and cursed under his breath.
"She shouldn't matter."
And yet—
Before the thought could finish, tires crunched over gravel.
Levi's gaze flicked toward the front courtyard just as Jordan stepped out of a matte black car, coat flapping behind him, mouth already moving like he had things to say.
The door opened a second later.
"You're letting her out now?" Jordan said, not even waiting for a greeting. "What's next? Weekly brunches and matching shoes?"
Levi didn't answer. Just walked to the decanter and poured a drink. His movements were precise, calm, as if that made it true.
Jordan watched him closely. "That girl—she's not like the others. You know that."
Levi took a sip. "She's a girl."
"She bled on the devil crystal."
"She survived it."
Jordan tilted his head. "You didn't even punish her."
"She was scared."
"You never cared about fear before."
Levi set the glass down harder than necessary. "Do you have a point?"
Jordan didn't flinch. "Yeah. You're slipping."
Silence hung like smoke.
Then Levi exhaled slowly and said, "She asked for something human."
"And you gave it to her?" Jordan scoffed. "You're not her boyfriend, Levi. You're not her savior. You're the reason she's in this hell to begin with."
Levi didn't look at him. "She'll come back."
Jordan crossed his arms. "You sure?"
"She always does."
"But what if one day, she doesn't?" Jordan leaned in. "What if she remembers what it felt like to be free?"
Levi didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Because a part of him already feared it.
Jordan's tone softened—just barely. "You didn't let any of the others go, Levi. Not once. But this one…"
Levi's voice dropped. "She's not the others."
Jordan studied him. "So what is she?"
Levi's jaw tensed.
"She's mine," he said at last. "That's enough."
Jordan gave a slow nod. "Until it's not."
He turned to leave—then paused at the door.
"You don't control everything," he said quietly. "Not even her."
Levi's voice followed like a blade drawn in the dark.
"I don't need to control her," he said coldly. "I just need her to never leave."