Tainted (Levi x Reader)

Chapter 15

TW: Assault

He stepped fully into the room, taking the chair across from yours. You caught a glimpse of a few more guards outside before the door was closed. The man eyed you with an unreadable expression. "Do you know who I am?"

"No." The hatred-filled word fell from your mouth. Under the dim light, you took in his features: rugged brown beard streaked with gray, beady brown eyes, thin lips, and a large nose. Similar to Commander Erwin in both height and build.

"I'm not surprised you don't recognize my face. Most who see it don't live much longer. But you'll know of my name. Does Boris of Blood ring any bells?"

Your eyes widened. It does, actually. Last I knew, he was the top gun for one of my father's biggest threats in the drug trade. Practically the whole reason for my existence as a mercenary was to be a barrier between my father and guys like him.

"You're not working for my father now, are you?" You shook off your initial shock.

He gave you a hard stare. "Times got tough. Mr. (L/n) pays well."

"But your people hate his guts!"

Boris heaved a sigh. "Look, I follow the money now, not the cause. But that's beside the point. You're here because Mr. (L/n) wants you back. He's grown tired of this game of cat and mouse. Your place is with the company." When you didn't reply, he went on. "Personally, it'll do you a lot better to come back without a fight. Stay long enough and who knows, you may rise in the ranks and gain privileges. It's not a bad life, kid."

"I'm not some kid," you spat. "I am a soldier of the Special Operations Squad of the Scouting Regiment. My place is outside the walls, fighting for humanity, which happens to include scumbags like you and my father."

He slammed a fist on the table. At that, a guard entered. "She's chosen the hard way. You know what that means," Boris snarled over his shoulder.

The guard nodded. He walked toward the fireplace and lit it, nestling a cast iron rod into the depths of the flames. Fear exploded in your stomach, but you refused to let it show.

You met Boris's triumphant eyes. Two more guards filed in and closed in on you. They lunged, eventually gaining the upper hand and restraining you despite your struggles.

"You see, this isn't my way of doing things. But Mr. (L/n) is very insistent on it. Says nothing makes people fall in line like a hot iron on their skin. Wouldn't you agree?"

Like a captured animal, you thrashed against the hold of the two men desperately, panicked eyes not leaving the fire with the handle of the iron sticking out of it.

Some time passed, marked only by your thundering heart. Boris grabbed a thick glove from a hook beside the fireplace and slid it on.

You were pinned to the ground. Your left arm was pried from your side and the third guard hurried over to help hold it down. Boris eventually pulled the glowing red iron out and approached. His eyes betrayed his apprehension. An act as cruel as this was something only your father could enjoy.

You made one last vain effort to struggle free, but tensed as Boris came nearer. He knelt and proceeded to press the metal to the skin of your left wrist, face wrinkling up in disgust.

Your blood curdling scream pierced the room. White hot pain began at your wrist and overtook you, setting off every nerve in your body and making you feel like you were going to explode. The image of your father's sickening grin flashed before your eyes.

You wished to pass out like you had the last time, but you didn't. You lay there with a constant current of agony running through you.

Boris finally pulled the iron away, strings of flesh sticking to its end. "Alright, clean it up." By then you felt weak and shaky from the immense pain you'd just undergone. You could only lay there with your cheek resting on the cool stone floor and your hair obscuring your face.