Petra could not speak, or move. As Karl strode into a slant of moonlight, she had a brief, ridiculous moment where she wondered what in hell he'd done with Captain Levi. She blinked, trying to reorient her thoughts. The captain had never asked for her. That servant was going to pay for this.

If she got out of here. No. Petra frowned. When.

"This isn't funny," she snapped.

"It wasn't intended to be. However." The handsome bastard grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "The look on your face." Karl tsked, and began to remove his coat. "Honestly, he must have you under his desk every chance he gets. It's obvious how badly you want it."

"He doesn't—"

"Then you're embarrassing yourself daily, it seems. Men don't like horny little redheads running around with their skirts pulled up. No dignity in that." He loosened his tie as he studied her, a vulpine light in his eyes. "No challenge. Taking a woman who doesn't want it, though. That's skill that requires a hunter's determination."

"If you think you're such a great hunter, why not strap on some gear and come fight titans beyond the wall?" Petra bared her teeth, rage dashing all the fear inside of her to pieces. "Men like you make me sick. You're just…a pig."

"There's the fire." Karl sounded intensely interested as he tossed his coat and tie to the floor. The captain would have his head for that; mess couldn't be tolerated. Petra nearly burst out laughing with the thought. "Now. Take off your clothes and get into bed."

"No," she growled, her head down and hands fisted at her sides. No one, no one would ever make her do this. Petra would die first.

"Good. Even better. I want you to fight."

"Why are you doing this? It can't just be the hunt," she spat.

"Clever girl. I'm interested in your captain. I want to see what his pressure points are." Karl advanced a step, then two. Petra bent her knees, ready. She isolated the groin, the instep, the solar plexus, all the points on him she could smash. She could put him in a joint lock. She could sweep his legs out from under him. This bastard had made the mistake so many had made Petra's entire life—he believed that someone as small and delicate as she could never be a threat. That was going to be his fatal error.

"Pressure points?" Keep him talking. Surprise him.

"This isn't your concern, Miss Ral. Why I want him. What I stand to gain. But I want his fury, you see. And based on my impression this evening, it's clear that he's a man who takes the welfare of his subordinates quite seriously. I'm sure an adorable girl like you is something of a puppy to him. When he finds out you've been violated." Karl clicked his tongue, and let the rest of that statement hang invisible in the air.

"If you want his fury, you only have to call him a midget. I've seen him break a man's nose in a bar for that." Petra's eyes had adjusted to the dim, and she began to map out a path to get around this bastard. Her left foot slid behind her right; she was ready.

"True. But I admit, I need more than irritation. I need something volcanic. Combustible. And besides." He paused a few feet from her. "I want you to weep while I'm inside you."

He wanted something volcanic?

"Then come on and try, you fucking bastard! You limp-dicked speck of dried cum! You cunt!" Petra spoke with Levi's voice now, and his words; she half-imagined the captain was whispering into her ear, feeding the threats she'd heard him use a thousand times. He was the wings at her back right now. The thought of him gave her strength, powered her to an obscene degree. This rich prick didn't know what he'd done. "Try and touch me! I'll drag you to hell even if I have to stay there myself!" she barked.

Karl appeared blank. "I don't like foul-mouthed women."

"I don't give a fuck what you like." Snarling, Petra lunged and landed a blow on the man's jaw. It was rock hard, and she winced as the flesh split on her fingers. But Karl staggered back with a soft noise of shock, and that was all Petra needed. She dodged around him, sprinting for the door even with her stupid heels. It didn't matter. Once in the hall, she'd scream murder and run until she found someone to help her. Almost out of the room. Yes.

Yes.

The captain had taught her well.

Oof.

Karl's hand came out of nowhere, and his fist collided with her soft belly. Petra felt her eyes bulge as she collapsed to her knees; her nails scrabbled at the floor as she tried to breathe and could not. Her stomach was on fire. Tears sped down her cheeks. Petra made whistling, whimpering noises as Karl hauled her to her feet, spun her around, and threw her against the desk. She flailed, her hands looking for purchase on something. She knocked over a jar of pens, which crashed and rolled across the floor. Eyes wide, she stared at a sheaf of papers, a small marble bust of some important-looking man, a letter opener carved from bone. Behind her, Karl huffed.

"That'll leave a mark, you little bitch." He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her forehead to the desktop. Petra managed to breathe just a little as he whispered into her ear. His breath was hot, and reeked of wine. "I was going to fuck you in bed, but you lost that privilege."

Her mind spun, broken. Think. She needed to think. Her sobs muffled, Petra reached out for someone to help her, but the darkness gave nothing back. Tears softened her vision as she glanced up at the window, the moon highlighting the drifting snowflakes. How could life be so peaceful while this was happening to her? Karl shoved her legs apart; she nearly collapsed. Grunting, she felt his fingers at the buttons to her dress's back. Petra squeezed her eyes shut. He could've simply thrown up her skirts, but he wanted to strip her naked. He wanted to prolong this suffering. To let her know how little control she had over her body.

Indeed, as button after button snapped open, she heard Karl give a soft, almost lustful sigh.

"You have such delicate skin," he hissed, his fingers stroking down the ridge of Petra's spine. She winced, felt vomit burn the back of her throat. As he pushed her hair up and went to run his mouth along the nape of her neck, Petra's hand closed over the marble bust.

She turned at the perfect moment. Her eyes met Karl's green ones, and she got to see his expression shift from puzzlement to pain as she slammed the base of the bust against the side of his head. With a curse, the man tumbled to the floor. Petra leapt over his legs, left him rolling about in agony. Tears flew from her eyes as she sprinted for the door. It felt as if she were attempting to run underwater; had she always been this slow?

I'm all right. I'm going to find the guys.

Soon, her squad would be at her back, and they would finish this. Petra was strong on her own, stubborn as hell, but with her three friends beside her and the captain leading the way? When it was the five of them, they could do anything.

She cried with joy as she yanked the door open—

And nearly ran into two men.

"Oh, good. Great. Help me!" Petra cried, looking up at their faces. "He, he tried to…hurt me." She couldn't force the correct word for what Karl had wanted past her lips. "Please. Call the—"

She'd been about to say 'military police' when she noticed the red wine stain on one man's jacket. Blinking, Petra looked up into Gregor's face.

Gregor regarded her with a creased brow and a downturned mouth. His eyes were hooded. He, and his friend, did not move.

"G-Gregor? I need to get out." Petra's throat was dry.

"Hey, Petra." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Would you move, please?" Her politeness was incomprehensible, but she needed it. She needed to believe that they were still playing by the rules.

"Why don't you go back inside, huh?" He looked to the floor to avoid her gaze. "Just…just go back inside."

Petra's chin wobbled. "I don't want to."

"Go back inside," the other MP said. Unlike Gregor, he showed no grief.

"Get out of my way."

And then, behind her, there came Karl's shout: "Bring the bitch over here."

Gregor met Petra's eyes. She looked between him and the other MP. Baring her teeth, she lunged to smash through their barricade.

She didn't make it.

Petra, I'm sorry.

It's fine, Ral. Go dance with anyone you like.

I overreacted.

No; I had second thoughts.

I'm sorry, Petra.

The apologies and excuses hummed in his brain. As Levi stepped back into the ballroom, he sought out his squad. He halted when he recognized the strains of the music. Lilting, one-two-three, one-two-three, the kind of fancy music that Erwin would be able to identify as an allegratto or pianisette or something like that. Levi recognized it as the beginning of the Marian waltz.

Petra's favorite dance.

He sighed, looking out on the floor and trying to catch a glimpse of her amid the swirling couples. Maybe she was dancing with Gunther again this year. Probably Oruo'd roped her into being his partner. The poor bastard would likely bite his own tongue with the excitement of dancing with the girl he obviously adored. Childhood friends, weren't they? Sometimes, Levi hated their closeness, displayed most often in fond bickering.

Must be nice to have someone like that. Someone who knew you from the past, from when you were first becoming yourself.

He missed Furlan fiercely, the emotion a sharp stab in the gut. It eased up quickly, but he felt the pressure of it still as he tried to find Petra.

"Captain!" Oruo hastened to his side, skidded to a halt. The guy was visibly sweating. Guess Petra'd gone with Gunther again. Wise choice. Oruo licked his lips as he stared at the captain, then behind him, then off to the side. Levi frowned.

"What? Hell, Oruo, did you shit yourself?"

"Where's Petra?"

Levi felt himself act before he could think. He did not make a habit of physically disciplining his subordinates. He was fond, too fond of them. But he grabbed Oruo by the lapels and dragged him down until they were nose to nose.

"Isn't that the question I should be asking you after I gave you my express fucking orders?" Levi heard his own voice at a distance. It was like the world around him was turning black. Oruo gulped.

"S-Sir! Y-You asked for her to come and meet you. You t-told us you wanted to see her alone! She said she'd be back in time for the Marian! The servant said you wanted to see her alone!" he repeated, color flushing his cheeks. Sweat stood out starkly on the guy's forehead now. "Please. Please tell me you—"

"I never asked for her." Levi let go of Oruo. The guy's chin began to quiver.

"I let her go off alone," he croaked.

Levi knew the man's fondness for Petra. Knew that, their banter aside, Oruo'd slice off his own hand before he'd see her harmed in the slightest. But there was no mercy in Levi's heart now. She'd been led off in the most fucking obvious way, a lamb to the slaughterhouse, his responsibility. If she were hurt…if she were bleeding…if that psycho, that animal had done anything to her that couldn't be undone—

I'll kill him. Levi hadn't heard those words in his head in so long. Not since he came out of the underground. Levi hadn't killed a human being in over six years, and it wasn't something he particularly missed. He hated unnecessary death.

But if it were necessary, he could downright enjoy it. That was the side of him that he saw in the mirror now and again, the one he didn't want to look at.

But he would welcome it now.

But first, Oruo. Levi glared up into the man's quivering face.

"If she's dead, you'll have helped murder her, Bozad."

Oruo seemed to deflate. His shoulders slumped, his back curved. In a few quick words, Levi had broken the man. He couldn't…

He couldn't be that cruel.

"But most of her blood's on my head. I'll take the responsibility," he growled. Turning away, he stumbled into Gunther and Eld. Eld frowned.

"Sir? Where's—"

"The servant lied. I never asked for her. They've got her now."

"They?" Gunther frowned, alarm spreading on his face. "We still don't know who they are."

"You don't need to know," Levi snarled, shoving past the two. His only real mistake had been trusting in anyone other than himself. Oruo gave a quick, stifled sob. Soon. Once this was settled, he'd apologize to the guy. Even though what Levi'd said was true. How fucking idiotic did these topside raised kids have to be?

Petra'd gone off alone, a willing victim.

It was because she and Oruo and the others had been raised to fear titans, not men.

Levi hated both and feared neither.

Petra. Be all right. Be all right. He willed this as he pressed back into the hall.

"Captain!" Eld shoved in front of him, Gunther and Oruo behind. Levi could hear Oruo's sniffles. "Tell us what to do."

"You've all done enough." Levi glowered at his second in command. "I ordered you to keep her safe."

"We thought we were obeying your orders when we let her go. It's not Oruo's fault."

"No. No, it's mine for relying on you all in any way outside of the walls. You don't know shit about this world." He tried to get around, but Eld landed in his way again. Levi squared his jaw. "Don't make me go through you, Eld. I go easy on you all in training, but—"

"Petra is one of us." Eld's eyes blazed with feeling. "This place is enormous. Who knows where they have her? You can't do this alone."

"I don't need you," he snarled, feeling as he said it that it was dumb as fuck.

"Sir. She needs us." Eld glared. "We're doing this with or without your approval."

Levi had never felt smaller than he did right now, surrounded by these men, knowing that of all of them he had fucked up hardest. This world. He'd insulted them, but he didn't understand it either. These rich fucks playing their little games of power, maneuvering innocent people like pawns in their pretend battles. Using Petra like she was only a body, a means to an end.

Like his mother. Using. Always using others.

Levi did not understand people like this. Erwin could, but Levi only understood monsters. He only related to them. Erwin knew the world, and Levi did not.

If there'd been any time, Levi would've gone looking for his Commander. But right now, every second was precious. And I'm wasting them with this petty bullshit.

"Eld. You and Gunther take the lower level. Oruo, come with me upstairs. We have to move quickly. When'd you last see her?"

"F-Fifteen minutes ago," Oruo squeaked. Sounded like he wiped his nose on his arm. Levi nodded.

"Find her. Do whatever it takes."

They all set off then, Oruo tagging after Levi and making certain not to walk beside the man. He was like a whipped dog. But Levi barely focused on his lingering guilt while they took the stairs two at a time and hit the second floor, as they began moving in unison, opening doors and checking again and again.

As he moved, Levi went to that mechanical, cold place he always entered during missions outside the wall. His objective was to find Petra. He would do that.

And if she had been hurt…

Levi knew that it would be a long, brutal night for all of them.