It was all his fault. If he hadn't let his guard down, if he'd been faster, smarter—you wouldn't have been taken. The image of you being dragged away, the terror in your eyes—it's burned into Levi's mind. He should've done more. He should've stopped them. Now he doesn't even know if you're alive, or worse... what state you'll be in when he finds you.

He can hear his own ragged breathing, every step he takes feeling like it could be his last. The warehouse looms ahead, dark and cold. He doesn't know what he'll find inside. He just knows he has to go in. His heart pounds harder with every creak of the old door as it swings open. The dim light filters in, illuminating a figure, hunched in the corner, shackled to the wall.

Levi freezes. Is that... you? He can't tell at first, not with how your hair hangs limply over your face, how your body is slumped. His heart catches in his throat. Are you even conscious? Alive?

He steps closer, trying to ignore the rattling of chains, the smell of damp and blood. You haven't moved. His stomach twists as he crouches down beside you. What if you don't remember him? What if the things done to you broke you in ways he can't fix?