Levi watched Jade sleep like she'd never had a reason to fear anything in her life.
She'd ended up on the living room sofa without remembering how, curled on her side with her cheek pressed into a pillow she hadn't owned yesterday. The fire in the hearth had burned itself down to a sullen glow, the last coals breathing orange and then darkening again. In the quiet, her breathing was the loudest thing in the room. Slow. Even. Trusting.
Levi sat on the rug a few feet away, elbows on his knees, studying the gentle rise and fall of her chest as if the rhythm itself was an insult.
"How," he murmured, voice low enough that it wouldn't carry upstairs, "are you able to sleep in a house full of demons?"
He let out a soft laugh that held no humor. It was the kind of sound he made when a mortal begged, right before Levi decided whether to savor the panic or end it quickly.
"I tried to kill you hours ago," he said, eyes narrowing at her lashes, at her slack mouth, at the faint crease between her brows that said she was dreaming. "And here you are. As if this house is… safe."
Her ease should have bothered him, but somehow, it caused a curiosity in his chest he was not ready to admit yet. "What have you seen Jade, that makes this situation of such a small concern…" Levi mumbles to himself as he watches her chest rise and fall slowly.
The balcony door was cracked, letting in a ribbon of cool night air. Voices drifted in. Zoe's laugh, loud and shameless, and Zeth's dry reply, and Aamon's voice layered beneath them, calm. They were talking like this was normal. Like the world hadn't turned sideways the moment a mortal walked into their orbit and didn't break.
Levi's mouth tightened. He looked back at Jade. "Looks like they left the cat alone with the caged bird."
A cold smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. Something devious flickered behind his eyes.
"If you were gone," he whispered, almost kindly, "everything would be simpler. For all of us."
Jade stirred. Just once. Her fingers twitched against the pillow as if she'd reached for something warm in her sleep. Levi leaned forward instinctively, watching for fear.
Instead, her eyes fluttered open. She blinked at him, unfocused and soft, and then—absurdly—her mouth curved into a small, sleepy smile. It wasn't gratitude. It wasn't flirting. It was recognition. Like he was a long time friend. Then her eyes slid shut again, and she sank back into sleep.
Levi went very still. The cold smile vanished from his face as if someone had struck it off with a hammer. Confusion took its place, sharp and genuine. Had she already forgotten? Had she forgiven him? Or did she simply not understand who he was?
Levi scraped a hand through his hair, frustrated. Mortals were stupid, but they weren't supposed to be this stupid. Not with a predator. "Hey," he called, impatient now, because he did not like not understanding.
"Human. Wake up."
Jade didn't move.
Levi's eyes narrowed. "Moron. Get up."
Her lids lifted again, slow this time, and she stared at him in a slight daze. "Is it morning already?" she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Levi stared back, brows drawn tight. "How," he demanded, "are you able to sleep with me under the same roof?" He was getting angry again, offended that his presence was not terrifying to her.
Jade blinked once, then twice, as if his question had to travel a long distance through her exhausted brain. Her mouth opened. "You woke me for that?" Jade rubbed her eye lazily.
Levi waited, expecting fear, or anger, or at least something sensible.
Jade's lips curved again, the same warm, stupid expression.
"Because we're friends now," she said simply. Jade yawned and rolled on the sofa, snuggling into the warm soft fabric. She was asleep again before Levi could form a reply.
Levi sat there, staring at her with wide eyes like he'd been struck.
"Just… like that?" he whispered. "Stupid bird." His hand went to his chest without meaning to, pressing against the strange warmth that had been gathering there all night. It was not hunger. It was not rage. It was not the clean, bright thrill of fear.
It felt like something small had taken root and dared to grow. Levi's jaw clenched hard enough that his teeth ached.
"Disgusting," he muttered, though the word didn't land the way he meant it to.
Outside, laughter rose again, and Levi's irritation shifted into something darker. Envy, familiar and poisonous, slid in beside the warmth like an old companion.
They're laughing because of her.
They're changing because of her.
Levi stood abruptly, as if distance could shake the feeling off. "Why did they leave me to deal with you," he hissed at the sleeping girl, and then he bent down and scooped her up before he could talk himself out of it.
Jade was light. Her head lolled against his arm, warm breath brushing his collar. Her fingers curled into his shirt as if her body had decided he was a safe place to anchor. Levi stiffened, disgust and something else tangling together in his gut. He carried her toward the staircase, moving quietly. A mortal would have creaked the boards. Levi didn't.
He made it to the second floor hallway and turned toward the room Zoe had prepared. The door was cracked open, and Levi saw the inside.
Pink.
Pink everywhere.
He nearly dropped Jade out of sheer offended shock.
"What in the Dark—" he breathed.
Jade murmured, half-asleep, and her fingers tightened in his shirt.
Levi froze, holding his breath.
She looked… small. Vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with strength and everything to do with not yet having been worn down by time. She wasn't a child, not truly, but next to him she may as well have been. A fragile thing that still believed in warmth.
And only hours ago, Levi had been ready to swallow her whole.
He lowered her onto the bed as if she were something that might break under the wrong pressure. He straightened his shirt where her hand had wrinkled it, then paused, staring down at her face.
"Dare I say I'm ashamed," Levi whispered, and it felt like treason to his own nature. Jade's eyes fluttered open again.
"Levi?" she murmured. Levi's spine went rigid.
"What." The word came out coated in disdain, though for once Levi hadn't meant it to.
"We are… right?" Her words slurred, as if she were still half-drunk, half-dreaming. Levi stared at her, not understanding what she was asking. Not fully.
"Friends," she said softly, and her eyes slipped closed.
Levi stared, struggling to keep his mouth from falling open. "I'm not even sure what that means," he said, his voice coming out quietly.
Jade smiled, she'd heard him anyway. "You don't… explain friendship," she whispered. "You feel it."
Then she drifted down again into deeper sleep, leaving Levi standing in the pink room like a man who'd stepped into a trap he couldn't see until it was too late. He stood there for a long moment, rubbing at his chest, trying to identify the warmth.
He knew the definition of friendship. He knew what mortals called it. He'd heard the words spoken between them like vows and lies and bargaining chips. He'd watched humans cling to one another in storms and call it love, or loyalty, or family.
Levi had never needed any of it. He didn't keep people. He consumed them. He didn't share emotion. He played with it. He didn't owe anyone anything.
And yet—
Levi's eyes narrowed. He left the room, shutting the door with care he didn't want to admit to, and stepped into the hallway.
Aamon was leaning against the wall on the other side, arms folded, gaze angled downward like he'd been waiting. Not lounging. Not casual. Guarding.
Levi froze in front of the doorway, his eyes locking with Aamon and the two stood in a standoff for a long moment.
Aamon didn't move. His expression was unreadable. Not anger, not amusement.
Levi let his defenses down slowly. "I don't understand," he said quietly, and hated how honest it sounded. "I was going to kill her. But now I feel like I can't."
Aamon's eyes flicked toward the door Jade slept behind, then back to Levi.
"You can't," Aamon said simply.
Levi's lips curled. "Because you commanded it."
Aamon didn't deny it. "And because the universe commanded it."
Levi's brows twitched, irritation rising. "Don't start talking like an oracle."
Aamon pushed off the wall and started down the stairs. Levi followed, more out of habit than obedience, though the line between those things had always been blurred with Aamon.
When they reached the living room, Zeth was inside now, sprawled in an armchair with his feet propped on the edge of the hearth like he owned the place. Zoe had already disappeared, likely to her children. The house had quieted into the kind of silence that came after chaos, not before it.
Aamon spoke as if continuing a conversation Levi didn't remember starting.
"She freed you," Aamon said. "No contract. No exchange. No price. That alone is enough to make the Reapers take notice."
Levi's jaw tightened. "I didn't need her help."
"Doesn't matter," Zeth cut in lazily, and Levi wanted to snarl at him for the calm in his tone. "Universal laws don't care about your pride."
Levi's eyes narrowed. "Careful."
Zeth smiled like a saint with a knife. "You can glare all you want. It's still true."
Aamon's gaze didn't leave Levi. "The universe saw a moment where you were trapped and she opened the door. That moment exists. It cannot be undone by arguing that you would have escaped anyway."
Levi's mouth pressed into a hard line.
He knew this. He hated that he knew it.
"Fine," Levi said sharply. "So I repay it. Then this… warmth disappears."
Zeth's smile widened. "Even better," he said, cruelly cheerful. "It gets stronger."
Levi's face drained of color.
Zeth laughed, and the sound had enough bite to make Levi's hands curl into fists.
Aamon's expression remained calm, but his eyes hardened. "Enough."
Zeth sobered immediately, not out of fear but respect.
Levi swallowed the frustration that wanted to spill out as violence. "How long do I have before the Reaperling comes back?"
Aamon's eyes went distant for a heartbeat. "The Reaperling is not the threat."
Levi's stomach tightened. "Right." He said, dropping his gaze.
"Reaperlings investigate," Aamon said. "They sniff at the edges, poke at mortals, pull threads. They are warnings, not executions."
Levi's throat went dry. "And the adults uphold the laws in the Mortal Realm," he said. "If you break the rules here, they come."
Aamon's voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of something ancient. "Exile is mercy," Aamon said. "Adult Reapers do not always offer mercy."
Levi felt the warmth in his chest twist into cold dread. "I know, they can erase souls."
Aamon's gaze held his, unwavering.
Zeth nodded once, grim. "And not just mortal souls."
The room seemed to tighten around them.
Levi's tongue felt thick. "They wouldn't seriously come for someone like me. I am the literal gate to Hell." Levi crossed his arms, trying to convince himself more than the others. "If they erase me it will cause more trouble than it would to leave me be. That's, not possible."
"It is," Zeth said flatly. "The Reapers are not demons. They are not angels. They are not tied to sin or virtue. They exist to enforce the laws. When something threatens balance badly enough, they remove it, fallout be damned."
Levi's stomach rolled. It had been such a long time since they'd been in this realm, he'd almost forgotten how serious the laws were. The fear of the reapers was something he'd buried deep down and even now, knowing he was in danger, he wanted to refuse to believe it anyway.
Levi swallowed. "So this is a serious situation."
Aamon nodded. "Exactly. The Mortal Realm has rules for a reason."
Zeth leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "And if a demon starts breaking those rules openly? If we start tossing power around like fireworks? A Reaper will come clean up the mess. They don't negotiate either once they decide you are guilty."
Levi stared at the dying coals in the fireplace as if they might offer answers. He could swallow a soul and send it to the Dark Realm with nothing more than hunger and intent. He could drag a mortal's fear out of them like thread and watch them unravel for his amusement.
But the idea of something that could erase him entirely made his mouth go dry. He hated that. He hated the fear. He hated that Jade was the reason he had to feel any of it.
"And this Reaperling," Levi said tightly, "it's already shown itself to her?"
"To warn her," Zeth confirmed. "Which means they're watching. They want to know if the balance is going to be corrected."
Levi's gaze flicked toward the staircase, toward the room where Jade slept. "What if she's the imbalance."
Aamon's eyes hardened. "Careful."
Levi looked back at him, envy curling hot in his ribs. "Everyone acts like she's some miracle. She's a human. And from where I am standing, she's caused more trouble than she's worth."
"She's Jade," Zeth said, uncharacteristically serious, as if the name itself carried meaning.
Levi scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sentimental nonsense."
Aamon's stare sharpened into something that made Levi's skin prickle.
"You'd do well to mind your place Leviathan," Aamon said quietly. "But do not forget if you try to harm her again, you will not have to worry about the Reapers."
Levi's spine stiffened. "Is that a threat, Sovereign?"
"It's a promise," Aamon replied.
For a long moment, Levi said nothing. They held eye contact in a long stare down. Then, grudgingly: "Fine."
Zeth exhaled, some tension leaving his shoulders. "So," he said, tone returning to something lighter, "you need to return a favor of equal value."
Levi sat and leaned back into the sofa, jaw clenched. "And I'm supposed to do that by giving her my heart?" He raised a brow looking at Zeth.
Zeth made a face. "Don't remind me. I can't believe I thought that was a good idea."
Levi's eyes narrowed. "You let her carry your heart."
Zeth shuddered as if being hit with PTSD. "Her mind is worse than the most terrible punishment in Hell. 10 out of 10 do not reamend."
Levi's lip curled. "I'd rather be erased than ever let a mortal barrow my power."
"Then you'd better think of something fast," Zeth snapped, irritation flashing. "Because you might just get your wish."
Levi stared at the ceiling for a long moment, letting his mind churn. He could repay Jade by saving her life. But she was already under Aamon's protection, and Aamon did not miss threats. Levi had learned that tonight.
He could give her something valuable. But what did a mortal value that wasn't pathetic?
Money. Comfort. Safety. Love.
Levi's mouth twisted. He wasn't made for kindness. Kindness wasn't his currency. He was the Prince of Envy. He took what others cherished and made them watch him hold it. And now he was expected to give.
Levi's eyes narrowed, anger shifting toward Jade again like a familiar groove. Why had she stuck her nose where it didn't belong? Why had she been in that lab? He would have escaped without her. He would have.
But. The universe didn't care about what would have been. It only cared about what was.
Jade's words floated back into his mind, warm and stupid and impossible.
Because we're friends now.
You don't explain friendship… you feel it.
Levi raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated enough that he almost laughed. "Ridiculous," he muttered, but the warmth in his chest didn't go away.
It just pulsed quietly, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him.
Zeth stood, stretching. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Try not to do anything catastrophic while I'm asleep. I'm tired of saving everyone from themselves."
Levi flicked a glare at him. "You mean you're tired of saving her."
Zeth paused at the base of the stairs and looked back, eyes sharp. "You think that's what this is?" he asked quietly. "I saved her because it was right. And because if she died, I would have died. Either way, she mattered."
Levi's jaw clenched. He hated the way Zeth seemed to be on Jade's side instead of helping him find a solution.
Zeth's gaze didn't soften. "Think of something soon," he added, voice flat. "No one knows how much time you have. And if the reaper comes… you won't get a warning. You'll just be gone."
He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Levi alone with the dying fire and the weight in his chest.
Aamon remained standing for a moment, looking toward the dark hallway like he could see Jade through walls. Then he turned away, voice quiet. "Do not mistake the warmth for weakness, Levi."
Levi's eyes narrowed. "And what is it, then?"
Aamon's expression didn't change, but his gaze looked older for a heartbeat.
"It's a tether," Aamon said. "Something you didn't ask for. Something you can't ignore. That is why it feels like a threat."
Levi scoffed weakly. "You're romanticizing it."
Aamon's eyes flicked to him, cold again. "No. I'm warning you."
Aamon headed up the stairs and vanished into the dark.
Levi stayed on the couch long after the last coal died, staring at the empty hearth until the room felt too quiet.
Finally, he exhaled hard.
"I guess I'll tail her," he said aloud, voice sour. "See what trouble she drags home next."
He stood, irritation masking the fear that still sat heavy beneath his ribs. Envy had always guided him. Now it guided him somewhere new.
Levi headed upstairs, toward his own room, and shut the door behind him with a light click. In the darkness, he lay back and stared at the ceiling. A mortal had set him free. The universe had decided that meant something. And somewhere down the hall, the mortal slept like she belonged here. Levi closed his eyes and tried to smother the warmth in his chest.