Chapter 16: Rule Breakers

Levi had just decided that the universe hated him personally when the door opened again.

He was still half-sunk into the pillows, body heavy as wet sand. He had been in the middle of a very reasonable internal debate about whether dying in the cell might have been cleaner when the latch clicked.

His first thought was Flora

’What did that witch want again?’ He groaned, not even bothering to look up.

His second thought was please be a servant with water and not another person who wants to own, threaten, or chemically erase me.

It was neither.

Aaron stepped inside and closed the door with his foot, and only after hearing the door shut did Levi finally look to see his visitor.

His entire body locked the instant they locked eyes. The second prince did not look like the version who had slammed him into bathroom walls or nearly started a war on the terrace. He looked... quieter.

Levi’s brain, helpfully soaked in drugs, supplied: ’ ’He’s probably here to finish what the suppressants started. Or to yell. Or to do both at the same time because he’s an overachiever.’

Aaron walked closer, and Levi pressed himself further into the pillows as if the furniture might develop protective instincts and swallow him. It did not.

The young alpha stopped beside the bed and looked down at him. For a long moment he said nothing. Then:

"How are you feeling?"

Levi stared.

The question was so unexpectedly normal that his drug-slowed mind short-circuited. He had prepared for growling, for accusations, for another round of "you belong to us whether you like it or not." He had not prepared for a basic wellness check from the same Alpha who had once looked ready to commit murder over a claiming bite.

"I..." Levi’s voice came out rough. He swallowed and tried again. "Isn’t this against the rules? The Alpha said no contact. I remember an entire dramatic speech about bonds withering and dying. Ring any bells?"

Aaron’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile. "I don’t care about the rules."

Of course he didn’t. Aaron’s personal relationship with rules seemed to be the same as his relationship with doors: if it was in his way, he went through it.

He sat down on the edge of the bed like he had every right to be there. Levi’s thigh registered the heat of him even through the blankets, and his body suddenly felt the urge to betray him, a betrayal that suppressants immediately tried to smother. Levi wanted to scream at his own biology.

"Comfortable?" Aaron asked, glancing around the room with mild distaste. "They at least upgraded you from the servant closet."

"I’m living the dream," Levi muttered. "Drugged, threatened by a future Luna, and now visited by the brother most likely to start a fistfight in a library. Truly, the Goddess has blessed me."

Aaron’s eyebrows rose. "Sarcasm. The suppressants haven’t killed your personality. Good to know."

"Give them time. I think they’re still loading."

A short huff of amusement left Aaron. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and studied Levi with an intensity that made the omega want to pull the blanket over his head.

"You look like hell," Aaron said bluntly.

"Thank you, I hope it’s not too much for you—"

"Levi."

The use of his name without a snarl attached to it was somehow more unsettling. Levi’s fingers tightened on the edge of the sheet.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked before he could stop himself. The question came out smaller than he wanted. "Is that why you’re here? Did the Alpha change his mind again? Am I going back to the cell?"

"Hey." Aaron’s voice cut through the spiral. He didn’t raise it. He just made it firmer. "No. You didn’t do anything wrong."

Levi’s mouth snapped shut. He watched Aaron warily.

The second prince’s expression had shifted. The usual temper was still there under the surface, but something else sat on top of it—frustration, yes, but also a rough kind of concern that looked like it made Aaron personally uncomfortable.

"I came to check on you," Aaron said. "That’s all. You looked half-dead in the hall. So I’m here."

Levi let out a breath that was almost a laugh and tasted bitter. "You shouldn’t be. Any of you. Every time one of you walks into a room I end up marked, threatened, locked up, or force-fed something that makes me feel like my veins are full of cement. I am fine. Or as fine as a person can be when half the house wants him dead, the other half wants to claim him, and a northern Luna just politely explained how she’ll make my life miserable if I so much as look at her fiancé."

Aaron’s eyes narrowed slightly at the last part, but he didn’t pounce on it. Yet.

"I’m serious," Levi continued, the words tumbling out faster now that the dam had cracked. He didn’t know where he found this new sense of bravery, he just knew he had to use it while he still could. "Don’t come back. Don’t check on me. I don’t want more trouble. I’ve had enough trouble to last three lifetimes and I’m only one very tired omega. The suppressants are doing their job. The bonds are fading. Everyone can go back to their politically appropriate lives and I can go back to being furniture that occasionally breathes. It’s simpler."

Aaron was quiet for a moment. Then he chuckled, genuinely amused.

"After everything, you should be the last person asking someone not to care for them—"

"I’m trying to survive," Levi shot back. "There’s a difference."

Aaron’s gaze drifted to the side of Levi’s throat, where Dexter’s mark still sat under the high collar of the sleep shirt. Something complicated moved through his expression. Then he asked, almost casually:

"Tell me about Elvis."

Levi’s entire body went still.

The name dropped into the space between them like a stone. Levi stared at a point somewhere past Aaron’s shoulder and said nothing.

He should have known, Aaron had most likely come here to learn more about the competition rather than care for him. At least he hadn’t genuinely believed the Alpha when he told that obvious lie.

Aaron waited, but Levi kept saying nothing.

The silence continued, and Levi could practically feel the second prince’s patience thinning in real time. The air grew heavier, and Aaron’s scent sharpened, not into full rage, but into the warning stage that came right before it.

"Levi."

"I don’t want to talk about him."

"I didn’t ask what you wanted." Aaron’s voice had lost the earlier rough gentleness. The usual edge was creeping back in. "He called himself your lover. He stood on that terrace and talked about taking you away and getting rid of a claim. My brother’s claim. You’re going to explain that."

Levi’s jaw tightened. The suppressants made everything feel slightly unreal, but the old, familiar knot of dread that came with Elvis’s name was crystal clear. He should have been afraid, he knew Aaron had a habit of losing his temper, yet for some reason he still kept his mouth shut.

Aaron’s temper flared, hot, brief, and visible in the sudden tension of his shoulders. He looked away, exhaled hard through his nose, and visibly forced it back down. When he spoke again the growl was still there, but it was leashed.

"Fine. Don’t talk. But hear me." He leaned in, close enough that Levi could see the flecks of darker color in his eyes. "Whatever story that Eastridge Alpha is selling, whatever ’rescue’ he’s promising, you don’t get to run off into the sunset with him. You’re not being saved from us. Especially not from me."