EVEN DEVILS LISTENS

She stared at her plate, lips pressed tight.

The silence was loud now that Skye was gone.

Her appetite had vanished, like someone turned off a switch inside her.

Across the table, Levi was still seated. Still watching.

She didn't need to look up to feel it.

"You lost your appetite?" His tone was casual. Too casual.

Alexa nodded slightly. "I'll eat later."

He didn't respond right away.

She braced herself for another command. Another cold push.

But instead—his chair scraped back.

He stood.

Alexa looked up, surprised.

Levi wasn't looking at her anymore. He was already turning away.

But just before he stepped out, he paused by the door.

His voice was even. Controlled.

"Skye talks too much."

Then quieter—almost like to himself.

"And you shake too easily."

Alexa froze.

He didn't wait for a reply.

The door shut behind him.

She didn't know what that meant. If it was an insult. A warning.

Or something else entirely.

Whatever it was, it stayed with her longer than his footsteps did.

*****

The door clicked shut behind him.

He walked down the hall, slow, steady.

Didn't look back.

Didn't need to.

She was still sitting there, shoulders stiff, pretending not to care. Pretending she wasn't rattled.

He exhaled once through his nose. Barely a sound.

Then, under his breath—low, dry:

"Too soft for this house."

His jaw tightened.

He kept walking.

But a second thought pushed its way through, quiet and unwanted.

Still here, though.

He didn't say it out loud that time.

Didn't need to.

Just clenched his fist once in his pocket and kept moving toward the study.

Skye was waiting.

And Levi was suddenly in the mood to hurt something.

Skye lingered by the door, waiting for the shift.

Levi gave it.

"Sit," he said flatly.

Skye slid into the chair across from him, shoulders still tight.

"We're behind on the second shipment from the eastern docks," Skye said. "Customs is holding it. Bribes didn't land."

Levi leaned back, fingers steepled. "And whose mistake is that?"

Skye hesitated. "Marek handled it."

Levi's jaw flexed. "Then Marek answers for it."

Skye nodded once. "He's gone. Handled it yesterday."

A pause.

"And the buyers?"

"Still waiting. Getting nervous."

Levi didn't blink. "They wait. Or they pay double next time."

Skye looked like he wanted to argue but didn't. "Alright."

The silence between them stretched again, colder this time. No Alexa. Just business. Just blood.

Levi finally said, "Tell Vance to shift the next drop to the southern route. No risks. We've made too much noise already."

Skye stood, nodding. "Got it."

He turned to leave.

But before he reached the door, Levi added, voice low:

"And Skye."

Skye looked back.

"If you ever prioritize curiosity over work again…"

Levi's eyes narrowed. "I won't hit you next time. I'll erase you."

Skye didn't smile.

Didn't nod.

Just left.

Levi sat there for a long time after. Still. Quiet.

His reflection in the dark glass of the window stared back at him.

Blank. Cold.

Until that name came to mind again—soft, stubborn.

**Xandria.

******

The house was too quiet.

No voices. No footsteps. Just the faint sound of something… scratching?

Levi followed it, step by step, toward the sitting room.

And then he saw her.

Alexa.

Sitting on the rug with her legs crossed, head down, hunched over a sketchpad. She was so focused, she didn't even flinch when he stopped in the doorway.

Levi didn't speak.

Didn't announce himself.

He just watched.

Her hair was a mess. There was pencil smudged on her cheek. And she was biting her lip, tongue peeking slightly as she worked the page like the world outside didn't exist.

His eyes dropped to the sketchpad.

Curiosity tugged at him, rare and unwelcome.

He took a quiet step forward—and then froze.

What…?

It was him.

She was drawing him.

Or… something like him.

Sharp fangs. Wild hair. A long coat, eyes dark like midnight. A gun aimed at his chest.

In the next panel, a speech bubble hung beside his drawn mouth:

"Alexa, please don't shoot me. I've changed."

And below that, cartoon Alexa replied with deadpan calm:

"I'm going to shoot you. Okay then."

Levi blinked.

He wasn't sure if he should be amused or insulted.

A soft sound escaped his chest—something like a scoff, but quieter.

Alexa jumped.

She spun around like a guilty kid caught with a stolen cookie, clutching the sketchpad to her chest.

"You scared me!"

"I scare everyone," Levi said coolly, stepping closer. "Didn't know I was starring in death scenes now."

Her cheeks flushed. "It's just a joke. A comic."

"Of me dying?"

"Technically, of me shooting you," she corrected.

His brow lifted.

"Hand it over."

"No."

"Alexa."

She hugged the sketchpad tighter.

"You're going to mock it."

"I'm already mocking it."

Her lips parted like she might protest, then gave up.

With a dramatic sigh, she flipped it open and held it out. "Fine. But no laughing."

Levi crouched in front of her, taking the book.

His eyes scanned the drawings in silence.

Then, calmly: "My fangs are too short."

Alexa blinked. "What?"

"If you're going to draw me as a vampire, at least get the anatomy right."

She stared at him. "You're seriously critiquing your fangs right now?"

He glanced at her. "Also, this coat. It's not even close."

"Oh my God."

"I'd never beg like this," he added, pointing to the line "I've changed."

Alexa snorted. "Yeah, that's fair. You'd just stare until I got uncomfortable."

He looked back down at the sketch.

"…You really think about killing me, huh?"

She hesitated. "Sometimes. But in a funny way."

Levi tilted his head slightly, something unreadable in his eyes.

"Is that what keeps you sane in this house?"

She gave a tired smile. "That and the garden."

He closed the book gently and stood.

"Finish it," he said, turning to leave.

"What?"

"I want to see how I die."

"You're so weird."

He was already walking away, voice drifting back with that dark calm of his:

"Better weird than dead."

*****

The heavy doors creaked open, and Levi didn't even glance up from his seat near the window.

Until footsteps rushed in—quick, eager, not cautious like usual.

"Levi!" Alexa's voice rang out, breathless. "I found a rabbit!"

He turned his head slowly. "...A what?"

"A rabbit! In the garden—white, fluffy, twitchy nose—you should've seen it!"

She held something behind her back, beaming.

Levi's brows drew together, unreadable. "Tell me you didn't bring it in here."

She grinned wider, then pulled it out.

A small white rabbit blinked up at the devil holding him prisoner.

Levi blinked back, deadpan. "That's a rat with a fur coat."

"It's adorable!" she argued, walking closer, holding it like a baby. "Can I keep it?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

She frowned, stepped closer anyway. "It was alone. It looked… lost. Kinda like me."

That made him pause. Just a beat.

Then she added quickly, "You're not naming it Skye."

His mouth twitched. Barely. "I wasn't."

"You were."

"I still might."

She plopped down beside him, cradling the rabbit like it was royalty. "Name it something better. Something you'd never admit suits you."

He stared at her.

She stared back.

Silence stretched, filled only by the rabbit's snuffling.

"...Mercy," he said quietly.

Alexa blinked. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me."

Her eyes softened. She looked down at the rabbit, then up at him again. "You're not as heartless as you act."

He looked away. "Don't let it chew my books."

She smiled. "Yes, Your Darkness."

And for a moment, just a moment, the devil said nothing.

But he didn't ask her to take the rabbit away either.

*****

The rabbit was asleep now. Curled up in a makeshift nest of her old sweater at the corner of the room, it looked so peaceful it made her chest ache.

She sat on the bed cross-legged, sketchbook open, pencil tapping against her lip.

Mercy.

She didn't expect that name from him.

Didn't expect him to let her keep it either.

He didn't smile, didn't soften, didn't even look like he cared—but he didn't stop her.

That was something.

Maybe even everything.

She scribbled a rough doodle of the rabbit first—long ears, oversized eyes—then started sketching another figure beside it. Taller. Dark shadows for hair. A long coat. Sharp eyes. Barely-there smirk.

It was him.

Levi, standing behind her like he always seemed to—watching, haunting, never fully gone.

She frowned at the paper. "You're not supposed to be here right now," she muttered.

The rabbit stirred but didn't wake.

Alexa exhaled and leaned back on her hands, staring at the ceiling. The lights above cast golden shadows across the room. Her body felt tired, but her thoughts wouldn't sleep. Not tonight.

What kind of devil names a rabbit Mercy?

A confusing one. A dangerous one. One who fed her ginger soup, then threatened to crush a man's windpipe the next morning.

She liked calling him a monster. It made everything easier.

But monsters didn't look at her the way he sometimes did—like they were trying not to feel something. Like they were losing that fight.

And she…?

She hated that part of her liked the fight.

With a sigh, Alexa turned on her side, facing the rabbit.

"You know," she whispered, eyes half-shut, "I think he's lonelier than he lets on."

The rabbit didn't respond. Of course.

But as sleep began pulling her down, a small smile crept onto her lips.

"I'll keep you safe, Mercy. I promise."

And just before her eyes fully closed, she thought she heard something outside the door.

Footsteps.

But they didn't come in.

They lingered.

Then walked away.