My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas Chapter 154: Guess who’s back ( Luther’s POV )

And nothing happened.

Not that I am disappointed or anything.

I’m just— not used to having a platonic relationship however pathetic that might sound.

"Wanna watch so TV?"

"Trash TV?"

"Sure, I think the Bachelor is on after the news ends. Up to it?"

"How about a movie?"

"You are the one who suggested trash TV."

"Are you pouting?"

"We could have made a bet on who he chooses. I would have asked for a kiss."

Lych pressed his lips into a tight pout, crossing his arms while turning his back to .

I dragged my finger on the back of his neck just enough to make his skin shiver.

It was fun to have a guy who despite feeling attraction towards you, treats you, you know, like a normal person.

With rights.

And opinions.

"Fine, but if I win, you do the dishes for the rest of the month."

"Ouch, expensive bet."

"Are you in or not?"

"Fine. Fine. Want popcorn?"

"Sure."

Lych’s footsteps echoed as he made his way to the kitchen.

I got used to them, despite not even knowing him for a full week. I guess the craving I had for a bit of normality made a stranger more comfortable than—

Well, everyone else.

Except for my ti in college with Tom, I can’t rember the last ti I was so relaxed around soone.

Fair to say I didn’t have that many options to choose from when it ca to my lifestyle: perfect heir and son or perfect lab rat for Emiliano to toy with.

I wonder how he is doing.

I can’t erase from my mind the picture of him crying. It felt so unnatural.

It was like being put face-to-face with a forming tornado next to your farm.

It is always a possibility, but seeing it with your own eyes —

It’s just too unbelievable.

His golden eyes lost all color, becoming such an erased nuance of yellow, it was almost as the whole eye beca white. The eyebrow twitched, creating a wrinkle that looked new on his face. Like the muscle didn’t know exactly how to contract.

His plump lips were pressed so tightly together as if he was scared a whimper would escape from his throat.

I should feel proud.

Happy even.

After all he put through, he deserves to suffer. To rot in hell for all I care.

Yet, my heart twitches every ti I think about those pathetic tears dripping on his face.

I doubt the twitch is a consequence of his cr-ppy surgical skills. However much I want to believe that’s true, Emiliano’s talent with the surgical field can’t be denied.

Smug brat.

I accepted that I grew attached to that psycho.

Despite leaving a bitter taste in my mouth to accept defeat in front of his Stockholm Syndro strategy, I have to admit that I am weak for him.

Acceptance is the first step towards healing, right? At least that’s what Google says.

What other reason than being brainwashed into loving that evil minion could have made wrap his hands around my throat and dare him to squeeze the life out of ?

The sa guy who transford Lior into —

The sa guy who lted the teeth of a poor man...

I must have been out of my mind.

Yet, he didn’t squeeze. At all.

He grew weak for too.

That fact doesn’t bring any comfort. It only deepens my bond trauma.

I can’t change him. So why do I want to?

"Caral or salty?"

Lych voice snapped out of my self-pitying party just in ti.

Right.

Emiliano is my past.

Enough ti will pass and these feelings will pass.

He said it himself — he doesn’t need anymore.

I should be grateful that I got out alive and see what I can do next with my life.

The options are rather limited since the whole country branded as my father’s killer and not only put all the authorities to sniff out my location, but also the bounty hunters too.

After all, I am hiding in a cabin with a guy I t less than a week ago.

The future doesn’t seem that bright for . But it never was, not truly.

It was restricted by my father, then by Emiliano and now by the law.

At least now I can finally inhale so of the liberty directly into my lungs.

No more shackles around my hands and feet.

Not until the police finally catch .

"Both!"

"Too late. Made only salty. If I lose the bet, I don’t wanna deal with sticky pans from the burned sugar."

"Why did you ask then?"

"I would have made the caral one if you really wanted it. I am a great wife like that!"

Lych fell into the pillows of the sofa, shuffling, fumbling just to get comfortable.

Life with Lych was not bad at all.

He was simple.

No hiding thoughts, no more mind gas, just a boring relationship with a bit of flirting and a normal mundane life.

No pressure or expectation.

To be honest, I have no idea why he would go to all the trouble to hide a fugitive like or why he treated like I was his boyfriend of five years.

It ca so naturally to him, I don’t really actively think about it.

"The news is still on. Wanna watch or wanna make out?"

"Is this your sneaky attempt to get the bet’s reward before you even win?"

"Got .You’re too smart to be that cute."

Lych rested his head in my lap while the background hum of the news played on the television.

He grabbed a piece of popcorn from the bowl beside us and flicked it into the air. The piece arced upward before falling directly into his mouth.

Without missing a beat, he raised his eyebrows in a quick, exaggerated motion.

The expression was playful and tid perfectly with his success, making laugh.

Cute idiot.

He smirked slightly at my reaction, clearly pleased with himself.

I shifted a little to adjust his weight as he stayed comfortably nestled against . He reached for another piece of popcorn, casually repeating the motion.

The news anchor’s voice droned on.

The room felt still aside from his small movents and my quiet laughter.

He tossed another kernel, missed this ti, and it bounced off his cheek. He chuckled, wiped it away, and tried again.

Yet this ti I was not paying him this ti.

How could I?

I just saw a dead man walking, talking, and crying on the TV screen.

"My God, is this really the doing of Lucrezia Akna?"

The interviewer’s voice trembled. I couldn’t say if in disgust or in pity at the crying man.

I gulped loudly.

Lych stopped playing, trying to cover my mouth to stop from hyperventilating.

Pointless.

No matter how much air I inhaled, I was suffocating.

I have no idea if I was crying out loud or if my heartbeat echoed as loud in the room as it did in my eardrums.

How is he alive?

I saw him dying with my own eyes. I grieved for him. What the f-ck was he doing on my TV?

"Yes. I barely escaped alive... Lucrezia Akna is planning to put a new chemical in your birth control! The one she gives as free healthcare for the ogas! Please..."

His voice broke as he choked up in his tears.

I didn’t realize I held my breath until he started to talk again, hoarse and slow:

"The new compound will kill you if you are an oga. She wants to leave alive only a few ogas and put them in the gardens for only the higher class to have access. No more natality for the lower class. Listen!"

He grabbed the microphone, bringing it closer to his chapped, bloody lips:

"She wants the lower class to die out! She will kill you!"

"Do you have any proof?"

"I do! I stole a few papers of the new research! They are marked with the Akna Pharmaceuticals seal!"

The TV showed a few pieces of paper with different experintal research.

"Oga subject number 53: the chemical alteration destroyed the liver, provoking a mass failure of organs and a brain aneurysm after three injections."

"Oga subject number 16: the pill lted the subject’s tongue, causing a bloody and unpleasant death. Reduce the amount of chlorine and oxidation."

As the other subjects were shown on the right part of the TV, the man undressed his blouse on the left side, revealing a massive scar with necrosed tissue skin deepened on his spine.

The gruesoness of both sides made my stomach turn.

"F-ck."

All I could do was curse under my breath.

All of this was fake. All of this was Emiliano’s plan.

And he was helping him!

Why was he helping him?

"Are you ok, Jason— I an Luther?"

Lych was holding tight as if he were afraid I might break. I might.

"Do you know the guy? Were you two friends?"

"Yeah..."

My friend was covering for the guy he killed him—

The guy who almost killed him.

Lior was covering for Emiliano and I couldn’t do anything else but watch.