The wind was sharper this far west.

As the carriage creaked to a stop just outside the Survey Corps compound, Beatrice stepped down quietly, her cloak flaring in the breeze. She looked up at the tall gates with a steady, unreadable gaze. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the strap of her gear case. Her new insignia gleamed on her shoulder.

She had finally arrived. And she wasn't alone.

Behind her, two men in military police uniforms climbed down from their transport with the distinct air of bureaucratic entitlement. Their cloaks were pristine. Their boots barely scuffed.

"Miss Dalca," one began smoothly, "you've been expected at the capital. The Commander-In-Chief—your father—wants to ensure your safety. It's not too late to reconsider. A permanent role in the central office has been prepared."

The second man added, "We've brought the paperwork. All that's needed is a signature. You'll never have to face a titan. Isn't that preferable?"

Beatrice didn't even look at them. Her gaze remained on the gates.

"I'm not here to sit behind a desk."

One of the men stepped forward, voice lowering. "You were nearly killed. Twice. Your talents are wasted here."

"I've made my choice."

The first man's tone sharpened. "Miss Dalca—"

"She said no."

The voice dropped like an axe.

Everyone froze.

Levi Ackerman was walking straight toward them from the barracks, boots echoing against the gravel. His jacket was undone, his cravat already in place, and his eyes—storm grey and absolutely lethal—were fixed not on the military men…

But on her. Beatrice blinked.

He didn't say anything else. Just stopped directly in front of her. A breath too close. His jaw set. His brow furrowed so deeply she half-expected it to fold in on itself. And then, without a word, his hands were on her. Not rough. Not gentle.

Thorough.

He checked her gear straps first. Adjusted one that was crooked. Brushed a smudge from her sleeve. Turned her chin gently to examine a small scratch on her cheek.

Her heartbeat stuttered.

Levi's frown deepened. "You let someone cut you?"

"It's a scratch."

"I didn't ask for a weather report."

The military officers took an uneasy step back, clearly unsure whether to speak or run.

"She's under our purview—"

Levi's eyes flicked to them. Cold. Cutting. Uninterested.

"She's under mine, now."

The men paled.

Beatrice tried not to laugh. "You don't own me."

"I didn't say I did," Levi muttered, straightening her collar with one last adjustment. His hand lingered near colar —just long enough to make her breath catch.

Then—

"BEA!"

A blur of red and limbs barreled from the hallway. Isabel slammed into Beatrice at full force, nearly lifting her off the ground.

"YOU'RE FINALLY HERE I'VE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE AND OH MY GOD WHO LET YOU TALK TO THE MILITARY POLICE ALONE—"

"Isabel—"

"YOU COULD'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED!"

"Again?"

"That's beside the point!"

Levi sighed and stepped aside as Isabel clutched Beatrice like a starved koala.

"Levi-bro, she's mine now. You had her all moody and tragic. It's my turn." Isabel grinned and grabbed Beatrice's wrist. "C'mon, I'm showing you the new base! You haven't even seen the new showers—they're HOT now."

Beatrice looked helplessly over her shoulder as Isabel dragged her away. Levi watched her go. Watched her disappear into the compound, sunlight catching on her white hair, her laughter carried on the wind. The military police cleared their throats awkwardly.

Levi turned to them slowly.

"I think you've overstayed your welcome."