Hange's words rang like a bell Mikasa couldn't unhear.
"There's a spy among us."
The weight of that sentence sat heavy in her chest long after the meeting ended. She walked through camp with stiff shoulders and a blade's tension under her skin, every glance at her comrades tinged with doubt. But it was Annie's name that kept circling her thoughts like a hawk eyeing a rabbit.
Annie, who had slipped away too often. Who never gave clear answers. Who touched her once like she meant it, then acted like it hadn't happened.
She knew.
Mikasa's fists clenched as she passed through the thinning trees surrounding the camp perimeter. She needed space. Space from Hange's quiet judgment, from Eren's cold watch, from the rising heat in her blood that came every time Annie met her eyes and said nothing.
It made her sick, how much she wanted her.
Even now—especially now—with suspicion pooling in her gut like poison, Mikasa still ached to grab her, bend her, pin her down and strip the truth from her mouth with her own teeth. She wanted Annie's lies, her resistance, her cold silence—all of it broken beneath her.
Was that why she'd ignored the signs for so long?
Because Mikasa didn't want to see the spy—she wanted the girl. Wanted the quiet tilt of her chin, the low hum of her breath, the tense strength of her thighs when she walked beside her. She wanted to consume Annie in every way a woman could consume another—bite by bite, gasp by gasp—until neither of them could remember who was betraying who.
Mikasa hated herself for it.
The last of the sun dipped beneath the hills when she found Annie crouched by the stream, alone. Her pale hair caught the last of the light like glass, and Mikasa's jaw clenched. Perfect. Always so damn composed.
She stepped closer, boots crunching over gravel. Annie flinched at the sound, just slightly.
"You're avoiding me," Mikasa said flatly.
A pause. Annie rose slowly, her spine tense. "I've been patrolling."
Lie. Mikasa knew it now, felt it in her bones. Every second Annie didn't meet her eyes made it clearer. But when Annie finally did turn, her face wasn't as blank as usual.
There was a flicker of nervousness.
"You've been lying," Mikasa said. She stepped forward. "There's a spy. Hange confirmed it."
Annie blinked. "Then catch them."
"You know I will."
Mikasa moved fast. She didn't trust herself to keep distance—not with the way her blood surged, not with the way Annie stood there like a flame she was begging to burn in. Her hand hit Annie's shoulder hard, shoving her back against the nearest tree. Bark scraped against Annie's spine as Mikasa crowded in.
Annie's breath caught audibly. She stiffened, muscles coiling like a cornered animal. Her eyes darted past Mikasa, like she was looking for an escape.
Still, she didn't struggle.
"Say something," Mikasa hissed.
Annie's gaze met hers—but it wasn't steady. Her pupils dilated. Her jaw clenched, but she didn't speak. Her breathing was fast now, chest rising against Mikasa's in short, shallow bursts. Her eyes glistened, caught in the blur of panic and something else. Guilt?
"You're going to make me drag it out of you," Mikasa muttered.
Annie shook her head, barely, just once. Not in denial—but in fear.
"You're playing with me," Mikasa whispered, forehead pressing to Annie's. "You think I won't take what I want."
Annie flinched at the closeness. Her lips parted, but the words were stuck. Her hand twitched at her side like she didn't know whether to reach out or push Mikasa away.
It was almost pitiful—almost.
Mikasa's lips brushed close, her breath shaking. She could taste the salt of sweat on Annie's skin, feel the twitch of her pulse under her fingers.
She wanted to kiss her. She wanted to ruin her. She wanted to make Annie beg for mercy, then make her admit everything with her moans instead of words.
But not yet.
Mikasa pulled back just enough to meet her eyes again. "You'll confess," she said, low and dangerous. "One way or another."
She let go and walked away, leaving Annie pinned to the tree like a hunted thing.
---
Later that night…
Annie sat by the stream, curled into herself, arms around her knees. Her whole body trembled—part cold, part panic. The bark scratches on her back still stung. She hadn't expected Mikasa to come at her like that. Not like that.
Her throat was dry. Her heart hadn't stopped racing. Not just because of the fear—but because something in her had wanted it. That truth scared her more than anything.
Her cover was slipping. Mikasa saw it now. And that look in her eyes—desire sharpened into violence—Annie didn't know if she wanted to run from it or fall straight into it.
But one thing was clear: Mikasa wouldn't stop until she had her.
And that terrified her more than being caught.Her fingers dug into the dirt beside her, nails caked with mud. Breath shallow. Her pulse wouldn't calm, not even now. Not even after Mikasa had turned her back and left.
"You'll confess."
That voice haunted her. Not just the words, but the way they'd trembled at the edge of something primal—something that could devour her whole.
Annie let out a shaky breath and dropped her head between her knees. The trembling started in her hands and spread to her thighs. Her body remembered Mikasa's grip, the heat of her breath, the iron in her voice. She'd been so close. Too close.
And it had almost broken her.
Because the truth was… Annie didn't want to do this anymore. Not the lies. Not the hiding. Not the mission. She hadn't wanted to do it for months. Every report she slipped, every moment she played the silent traitor, it hollowed her out more.
But she couldn't stop. She couldn't choose her freedom.
Because her father was still a hostage.
They had him. And the deal had always been the same: finish the job, and he lives. Fail, and they send him back piece by piece. That image alone kept her awake at night—his hands, his smile, the way he kissed her forehead when she was little. The only person who had ever chosen her without conditions.
And now he was her leash.
But Mikasa was undoing everything.
She was forcing Annie to feel again. To react. To want.
And it was making her weak.
She wrapped her arms around her legs and clenched her teeth. She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let one woman—one look, one touch—unravel everything she'd been surviving for.
But gods, it had already started.
That scent on Mikasa's neck. That slight quiver when she leaned in. Annie had felt it like a strike to the ribs: Mikasa wanted her, and it wasn't just suspicion. It was hunger.
And Annie hated how much she wanted her back.
She whispered to herself, desperate: "You can't give in. You can't. He'll die if you do."
But the words felt thin now. Fragile.
Because the more Mikasa touched her, the more Annie started to believe the real death had already begun—and it was happening inside her.