ONE ʙʏ ONE

ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

Eren stayed the night at Levi's house, but Levi had a small meeting to attend downstairs. It was nearly three-thirty AM, pitch black outside, when a knock sounded at the door.

Levi had a few things to take care of to sleep soundly. What Eren's father did to his property was horrible, but his mind told him to take out the threat's root. That threat was the sick bastard that dared lay a finger on Eren.

Levi left his broiling coffee on the kitchen island to answer. His mug stern, he creaked the door open.

A large, bulky man dressed in an overcoat stood there – his mangey hair was dark blond, and his breath reeked of low-class booze from a chain store. The man grinned with his rotten teeth, highlighting the scar across his right cheek.

"You called?"

Levi wasn't intimidated and only stepped aside to let the man in. He sneered at him, thinking back over what the creep had in his mind. The stud was one of the gambling drunks at Girsha's table. More specifically, the rapist Eren's father offered his son to. Though his veins were boiling like the coffee in his cup, he held his monotoned stature walking into the kitchen.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Chester," Levi explained,"–something I should make clear."

The man who sat at the kitchen island was named Chester Vito. He was practically born and raised in the criminal world and work closely alongside Levi's uncle, Kenny. It was true that he committed crimes of forcing himself onto both men and women, but he never struck so low as to take an eye for a minor.

Levi had argued with his uncle to kill him, but Kenny preferred to "state his dominance" over the situation. Though Chester was a complete creep, he provided fame for the Fox Hole, bringing more income for the owner. The raven wasn't pleased, but he was willing to take what he could get.

"Is that so?" The grey-eyed devil smirked.

Levi picked up his coffee that steamed into the air. With a direct, emotionless threat, he warned, "Don't touch my property again, asshole."

"What are you talking about?"

The teen set his drink down, not bothering to take a sip. The glass rattled on the marble a little too loudly.

"Grisha's son," Levi clarified. "That boy who you called doll yesterday morning. I assumed you probably didn't know, but he's very...important to me."

"I see," Chester muttered.

Levi continued, "I, honestly, don't care who you go after– teens, men, women, or even the next person that just so happens to bump into you on the street. Just don't let your grimy mitts fall on his skin ever again, and we'll have no problems."

The criminal sat back, looking unimpressed with Levi's warning.

"And who are you to be telling me, boy," Vito retorted harshly, "what I can and can't do with my toys?"