Chapter 12: Midnight Confessions
The first thing Levi registered was the cold.
The second was the empty space beside him in the bed.
His eyes snapped open. Dawn was a thin, grey suggestion at the edges of the blackout curtains. The room held the heavy, spent silence of deep sleep. Armin was a pale shape curled around Eren, who was facedown, one arm hanging off the mattress. They were both out, breathing deep and even. Aria’s side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool.
A jolt of pure, icy adrenaline shot through him. He was on his feet in an instant, the movement silent. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor, pulled them on, and moved to the door. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the low hum of the refrigerator. No tears. No broken glass. He checked the bathroom. Empty.
Then he saw it. The sliding door to the small balcony was open a crack, a blade of freezing morning air cutting into the warmth of the living room. Through the glass, he could see her silhouette, perched on the railing.
His heart stopped. He moved fast, shoving the door open with enough force to make it rattle in its frame.
Aria flinched, turning her head. She was sitting sideways on the metal railing, her back to the three-story drop to the snow-dusted alley below. She wore one of his t-shirts, which swam on her, and a pair of her own thin pajama shorts. Her bare legs were goosefleshed in the cold. She held a steaming mug in both hands. She wasn’t crying. She just looked… hollowed out.
“Get down from there,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep and panic.
She took a slow sip from her mug. “I’m not jumping, Levi. It’s a shitty way to go. I know from research.” Her tone was flat, factual. “I just wanted air. The room got… thick.”
He didn’t move. “The air is out here. You’re freezing.”
“Feels good. Clear.” She looked out over the quiet street. The old oak tree’s bare branches clawed at the grey sky. A few tenacious brown leaves shivered in the wind. “Couldn’t breathe in there.”
The tightness in his chest didn’t ease. He stepped onto the balcony, the concrete biting cold through his bare feet. He took the mug from her hands, set it on the rail, and before she could protest, he hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her off the railing, setting her down firmly on the solid balcony floor. She felt frighteningly light.
She didn’t fight him. She just leaned back against the rail, looking up at him. The morning light carved shadows under her eyes. “Bad dream,” she said, as if that explained everything.
He grunted, shrugging out of his own worn hoodie. He draped it over her shoulders, pulling it closed in front of her. His hands lingered there, holding the fabric shut. “About Vance?”
“About before. The underground. The smell.” She shuddered, a full-body ripple. “Woke up and for a second, I didn’t know whose arms were around me. It scared me.” Her eyes found his, finally focusing. “Then I remembered. And that scared me more. Because I have something to lose again.”
Levi’s jaw worked. He understood the calculus of that fear intimately. It was easier to fight when you had nothing. When you had something—someone—every threat multiplied. Every shadow deepened.
“We’re handling Vance,” he stated, his voice low.
“Are we?” she asked, and it wasn’t a challenge. It was genuine fear. “Armin’s smart. You’re… you. But this is their world. Their rules. Paper rules. He’s a doctor with lawyers. We’re…”
“We’re us,” Levi cut in, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “He’s one man with a paper shield. We’ve broken better.”
A small, fragile smile touched her lips. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his sternum. He stiffened for a second, then his arms went around her, pulling the hoodie tighter. She was freezing.
“You make shitty coffee,” she mumbled into his chest.
“You make shitty decisions. Sitting on railings in the cold.”
“Touché.”
They stood like that for a long minute, the city slowly waking up below them. A trash truck groaned its way down the street. Somewhere, a dog barked.
“I need to do something,” she said finally, pulling back. “I can’t just sit here while you all dig. It makes me feel like… like I’m back in the hospital. A patient.”
He studied her face. The hollow look was being replaced by a familiar, determined glint. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m making breakfast. And then I’m going with you to Syracuse.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Aria.”
“He’s my problem, Levi. My lawsuit. My head he tried to fuck with.” Her voice was steel now. “You don’t get to bench me because you’re scared. That’s not the deal.”
The ‘deal’. The unspoken contract between them: he didn’t coddle her, and she didn’t break. Most of the time.
He saw the set of her jaw, the fire returning to her eyes. Arguing would be useless. And part of him, the part that wasn’t paralyzed with fear for her, respected it. Needed it.
“You follow orders. My orders. On this. Not a discussion,” he said, his tone final.
A ghost of her old smirk appeared. “When have I ever followed orders?”
“Today. You will.” He took her hand, icy cold in his. “Now come inside. You’re turning blue.”
The smell of burning butter and coffee filled the apartment. Eren wandered into the kitchen first, drawn by the scent, his hair a wild nest. He’d pulled on a pair of his own jeans, but his chest was bare. He blinked at the scene.
Aria was at the stove, cursing under her breath as she tried to flip a pancake. It tore in half. “Goddammit.”
Armin was already at the kitchen table, two of Levi’s sleek laptops open in front of him. He was typing fast, his eyes scanning lines of code. He’d found a pair of glasses somewhere—wire-rimmed, modern—and they made him look eerily like the scholar he might have been in another life.
Levi was leaning against the counter next to Aria, nursing his own mug of coffee. He watched her culinary disaster with an expression of profound detachment.
“You’re burning them,” Eren stated, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“They’re crispy,” Aria corrected, scraping the sad, dark pancake onto a growing pile. “It’s a texture.”
“It’s carbon,” Levi muttered.
Aria elbowed him. He didn’t budge. “You want to try?”
“I want edible food. These are roofing tiles.”
Eren snorted, moving to the fridge to scrounge for something salvageable. He found orange juice. “Any progress?” he asked Armin, nodding at the screens.
Armin didn’t look up. “Some. Vance is messy. Arrogant. He used his personal email for a lot of shady correspondence with the medical board’s oversight committee. Deleted it, but not well.” His fingers flew over the keys. “He’s got a pattern. Young female patients with… atypical backgrounds. Limited family. Aria fits a profile he seems to favor.”
The sizzle of the pan paused. Aria stared at the batter dripping from the spoon in her hand. “He told me once I had ‘a fascinating resilience for someone with such a fragmented history.’ He said it like… like I was a rare insect.”
Levi’s knuckles whitened around his mug.
“Found another one,” Armin said, his voice cooling into something clinical. “Liora Mendez. 25. Wrongful termination suit against Vance from two years ago, settled out of court. Quietly. She claimed he made inappropriate advances during sessions, then had her fired from her job when she rejected him. She was a grad student in… linguistics. Originally from… nowhere. Orphan. Raised in a system.”
The air left the kitchen.
“That’s not a type,” Eren said slowly, putting the juice carton down. “That’s a target.”
“It’s both,” Armin said, finally looking up. His eyes were sharp behind the glasses. “He looks for women who are isolated. Whose stories have gaps. Gaps he can exploit, or fill with his own narrative.” He glanced at Aria. “Your lack of history wasn’t a red flag to him. It was an opportunity.”
Aria turned the burner off. The ruined pancakes were forgotten. “Can we find her? Liora?”
“I have an old email address from the lawsuit documents. It’s probably dead, but the username might lead to social media.” Armin was already typing again. “If she’s still in the area… she might talk to you. Someone who knows.”
“I’ll call Maya after breakfast,” Aria said, her voice regaining its pragmatic tone. “See if she can cover my shift. Again.” She looked at Levi. “We’re going to Syracuse. And we’re finding her.”
Levi set his mug down with a definitive click. “We’ll find her. You,” he said, pointing a finger at Aria, “will stay in the car.”
“Levi—”
“That’s the order. You’re a recognizable face to him now. If he’s watching his old patients, if he’s nervous, seeing you near someone he harassed could spook him. Or her.” His logic was brutal, inflexible. “You stay in the car. With Eren. Armin and I will make contact.”
Aria opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She hated it, but he was right. “Fine. But I’m driving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“My car, my rules.”
“Your car is a pink death trap with a cracked windshield.”
“It has character!”
Eren watched them, a strange feeling settling in his chest. It wasn’t peace. It was something more vital, more gritty. Purpose. They had a target. A strategy. It was familiar ground. He looked at Armin, who was now cross-referencing something on the second screen, utterly absorbed.
“What do you need me to do?” Eren asked.
Armin glanced up. “Be ready. If this Liora is still around, she might be scared. Having another woman—Aria—might help, even if she’s at a distance. But if things go wrong…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
“They won’t,” Levi said. He was looking at the charred pile of pancakes. “Clean this up. We leave in thirty.”
The day had begun. The cold balcony, the bad dream, the intimacy of the night—it was all compartmentalized, shelved. There was work to do. Levi picked up a blackened pancake, examined it, and took a bite. He chewed, his face impassive.
“See?” Aria said, a real smile touching her eyes for the first time that morning. “Crispy.”
He swallowed with apparent effort. “It’s not food. It’s a warning.” He dropped the rest into the trash. “Get dressed. Wear layers. It’s colder in Syracuse.”
As they dispersed—Armin to shower, Eren to find a shirt, Aria to actually attempt to look presentable—Levi stayed in the kitchen. He poured the rest of the batter down the sink, watching the gooey stream disappear. His reflection in the dark window over the sink was grim, resolved.
Vance had tried to invade their fragile peace. He had tried to weaponize Aria’s pain, her past. He had made it a paper war.
Levi turned on the garbage disposal. The grinding roar filled the small space, drowning out the hum of the city outside. He watched until every last bit of evidence was gone.
They were going to Syracuse. They were going to find a ghost named Liora. And then, they were going to bury Silas Vance in the holes of his own making.
The grinding stopped, leaving a ringing silence. Levi wiped his hands on a dish towel, the pink one with the little embroidered roses Aria had insisted on buying. He stared at it for a second, then hung it back on the oven handle with precise, deliberate care. Control in the small things.
Twenty minutes later, they were a bundle of mismatched tension by the front door. Aria was layered in a pastel pink sweater and a puffy vest, clutching her Stanley tumbler like a shield. Eren had pulled on a black hoodie, his keys already jangling in his hand. Armin had his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, his face already distant, running algorithms behind his eyes. Levi checked the peephole, then the lock, twice.
“Alright,” Eren said, shrugging into his jacket. “Car’s out back. Let’s move.”
They filed into the dim hallway, the door clicking shut with finality behind them. The old building smelled of lemon cleaner and damp carpet. Their footsteps were unnaturally loud on the stairs.
The cold outside was a physical slap, sharp and clarifying. Eren’s Challenger sat at the curb, a hulking, black shape dripping melted snow. It looked impatient.
Aria stopped beside the passenger door, a sudden, mischievous glint cutting through her earlier gloom. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet.
“Okay, so, practical question,” she announced, her breath making little clouds in the air. “If we’re taking Eren’s car can I at the very least pick the music?”
“No.”
The word came in a flat, unified chorus from all three men. It was instinctual, absolute. Levi was already reaching for the back door handle. Armin was calculating traffic patterns on his phone. Eren just shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Aria’s shoulders slumped. She pouted, her lower lip jutting out. But then she straightened. She looked at Levi, then at Eren, then finally at Armin. Her eyes widened, just so. Her bottom lip trembled, a perfectly calibrated quiver. Her whole face softened into an expression of wounded, pure, desperate hope. It was a masterclass in silent pleading.
It was The Face.
Levi froze, his hand on the car door. He refused to look at her. He stared straight ahead at the seam of the window.
Eren groaned, slapping his forehead. “Oh, come on. Not fair.”
Armin slowly lowered his phone. He pushed his glasses up his nose, a stalling tactic. He opened his mouth, closed it. The strategist had no counter for this.
Aria held the expression. The trembling lip. The dewy, soulful eyes. She hugged her pink tumbler to her chest.
Levi let out a long, slow, suffering breath that fogged in the cold air. He yanked the car door open. “Fine,” he gritted out. “No pop. Nothing with synthesizers. Or screaming.”
Aria’s face snapped back to its normal, triumphant glow instantly. “Yes! Okay, terms accepted.” She dove into the back seat before anyone could reconsider.
Eren got behind the wheel, muttering about the sanctity of a driver’s playlist. Armin slid into the passenger seat, already bracing himself. Levi took the other side of the back, as far from Aria as the space allowed, as if physical distance could negate his capitulation.
The engine roared to life, a deep, vibrating growl that shook the frost from the mirrors. Eren pulled out into the slushy street.
Aria connected her phone to the Bluetooth with practiced speed. A few taps, and the sound system, premium and loud, flooded the cabin with the gentle, acoustic opening of a Taylor Swift song. It was a sad one, all piano and wistful vocals.
Levi winced as if struck. Eren’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Armin stared out the window, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
Aria sang along softly, earnestly, to the heartbreaking chorus. She took a sip from her tumbler. She was, for this moment, perfectly happy.
The black car sped north, carrying its cargo of soldiers, strategists, and one petite pop aficionado toward Syracuse. The soft music was a bizarre counterpoint to the grim purpose in their hearts, a thread of normalcy stitched tight over a wound that had never truly closed. The city faded behind them, replaced by the bleak, white-and-grey expanse of the interstate. They drove in silence, save for the singer’s lament.
The gentle piano finally faded into silence, followed by the soft click of the playlist ending. The only sounds were the deep rumble of the Challenger’s engine and the rhythmic swipe of the windshield wipers pushing aside a light, freezing drizzle.
In the back seat, Aria’s head lolled against the window. Her pink tumbler, clutched loosely in her lap, threatened to tip over. Her breathing had deepened, slowed. Her mouth had fallen slightly open.
She was completely asleep.
Eren glanced in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. The highway was a monotonous grey smear outside. “How is she asleep right now? This car is loud as fuck.”
Levi didn’t turn his head. He was watching the blur of skeletal trees whip past, his posture rigid even in repose. “Maybe because she got tired out last night after three dicks.”
His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. A simple clinical assessment.
From the passenger seat, Armin smirked. He adjusted his glasses, hiding the expression, but the corner of his mouth remained upturned.
Eren’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. A flush crept up his neck, but he didn’t deny it. The memory was a live wire in the quiet car. He cleared his throat. “So, Syracuse. What’s the play?”
Armin’s smirk vanished, replaced by focused intensity. He tapped his phone, bringing up a map. “The address I traced for Liora Mendez is an apartment in a neighborhood called Salt Springs. It’s… not great. Landlord records show she’s two months behind on rent.”
“So she’s desperate or gone,” Levi said, his eyes still on the passing landscape.
“Potentially both. If she’s desperate, she might talk. If she’s gone, the landlord might know where. Or her neighbors.” Armin zoomed in on the street view. The image showed a sagging triple-decker with peeling paint and a chain-link fence. “We’ll need a approach. Friendly. Non-threatening.”
“Not my specialty,” Levi stated.
“Mine either,” Eren grunted.
“Which is why I’ll go to the door,” Armin said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Alone. A young guy with glasses asking about a former classmate is less threatening than…” He gestured vaguely at Levi and Eren.
“Than what?” Eren challenged.
“Than two guys who look like they’re about to repo someone’s knees.”
Levi’s lips thinned, which was as close to conceding a point as he ever got.
They exited the highway. The city swallowed them, a grid of weathered brick and salted slush. The ambiance shifted from the open threat of speed to a claustrophobic, watchful stillness. Graffiti bled across boarded-up windows. People huddled at bus stops, their faces pale and drawn against the cold.
Eren navigated the streets with a tense, aggressive precision. The Challenger felt obscene here, too loud, too clean. It drew looks—curious, resentful, blank.
“Here,” Armin said quietly, pointing to a building that looked even more dilapidated than its online photo. The front steps were crumbling. A rusted shopping cart lay on its side in the tiny, frozen front yard.
Eren pulled over a half-block down, killing the engine. The sudden silence was profound. Aria slept on, undisturbed.
“You know the drill,” Levi said, his voice low. He finally turned from the window, his gaze finding Armin’s in the mirror. “Five minutes at the door. If it feels wrong, you walk.No heroics. We are not the Military Police. We are asking about a lost friend. That’s all.”
Armin nodded, unwrapping a generic-looking scarf from his neck. He took off his more distinctive glasses, swapping them for a plain pair from his bag. The transformation was subtle but effective; he looked softer, younger, like a stressed-out student. “Five minutes.”
He slipped out of the car, the cold rushing in for a moment before the door sealed shut. He hunched his shoulders against the wind and walked with purposeful, slightly awkward steps toward the building.
Inside the car, the air grew taut.
Levi watched Armin ring a buzzer, wait, ring another. His entire body was a coiled spring. Eren drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his eyes scanning the street, the windows, the shadows between buildings.
Nothing moved but a shred of plastic bag caught on the fence, flapping in the bitter wind.
In the back, Aria made a small, sleepy sound. She shifted, smacking her lips together, her head rolling to rest on Levi’s shoulder. He went utterly still, not breathing, as if a sudden movement might shatter her. He didn’t push her away.
The front door of the triple-decker opened. A figure, shadowed in the doorway, spoke to Armin. Armin’s body language was all polite confusion, a shrugged apology. He gestured down the street, then back at his phone.
“What’s happening?” Eren muttered.
“He’s talking to someone,” Levi said, his voice barely a breath.“Not her. Too tall.”
After a minute, Armin nodded, gave a small wave, and turned. He walked back to the car with the same measured pace, not hurrying. He slid into the passenger seat, bringing a gust of cold air.
“Well?” Eren demanded.
“Apartment 2B,” Armin said, fastening his seatbelt. His face was a careful mask. “The old man at the door was the super. He said she hasn’t been seen in over a week. Mail piling up. He’s about to start eviction proceedings.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed. “Did he say where she went?”
“He didn’t know. Didn’t care. But he said…” Armin paused, pulling his good glasses from his pocket and putting them back on. The scholar returned. “He said a ‘fancy car’ has been idling down the block at night for the past month.A dark sedan. He thought it was a drug thing. Didn’t get a plate.”
A thick, cold silence settled over them, heavier than the one before.
Aria stirred again, blinking awake. She straightened up, wiping a tiny bit of drool from her chin. She looked around, disoriented, taking in the grim street, the tense set of Levi’s jaw, Armin’s focused expression.“Are we there? Did you talk to her?”
“She’s gone,” Eren said, his voice tight. His hands flexed on the wheel. “Someone else has been watching her place.”
Aria’s sleep-soft face hardened in an instant. The last vestiges of peace vanished. “Vance.”
“Or someone he hired,” Levi confirmed. His hand moved, almost unconsciously, to rest on her knee. A grounding touch. “He’s cleaning house. Scaring off witnesses.”
“So what do we do?” Aria asked, looking from face to face.
Armin was already typing on his phone again, his mind racing ahead.“We find the car. Traffic cameras, if we can access them. Parking enforcement tickets. A dark sedan idling in a neighborhood like this might get noticed.” He looked up, his blue eyes icy. “And we find where Liora Mendez went. Before he does.”
Levi gave a single, sharp nod. “Drive, Eren. Find a lot. Somewhere we can sit and not be seen.”
Eren started the engine, the growl feeling dangerously loud now. As he pulled away from the curb, Levi’s gaze locked on the rearview mirror, watching the dilapidated building shrink behind them. His fingers tightened on Aria’s knee.
Their fragile lead had just evaporated. The hunt had become a race.
And they were no longer the only hunters.