The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL] Chapter 89 - Tattle

The thing was looking right at him.

Its beady black eyes, devoid of warmth, narrowed slightly. There was no emotion—just a cold, predatory stillness.

Bian's breath faltered.

His entire body locked up for a second, his mind blanking out from sheer terror. His lungs refused to pull in air, and his legs felt like they had been frozen in place.

Then—his instincts scread at him.

Run.

He stumbled backward, his foot slipping slightly against the uneven ground, but he caught himself just in ti. Without a second thought, he turned and ran.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, deafening in his ears. His breaths were ragged, harsh gasps that barely filled his lungs.

But it wasn't enough.

A soft rustling sound—barely a whisper—cut through the silence.

Bian barely had a chance to react before sothing cold and wet lashed out behind him.

A slimy tentacle coiled around his ankle.

"No!" he scread, thrashing wildly. His nails dug into the dirt as he clawed at the ground, desperately trying to pull himself forward. "Let go! Please—let go!"

But the creature didn't listen.

The grip around his leg tightened—and then more tentacles wrapped around his body, binding his arms to his sides, constricting around his torso like a living rope.

The world tilted violently as he was yanked up into the air.

"No—!" His voice cracked, his body twisting and jerking in blind panic. "Please—!"

The tentacles squeezed harder.

His breath hitched, the pressure unbearable. His ribs strained, his skin burned under the cold, slimy touch, and his chest felt like it was about to cave in.

"Please!" he sobbed, tears mixing with the gri on his face. "Sobody—help !"

There was no one to hear him.

The alien creature remained eerily silent, its grip unwavering.

Then—

A sickening crunch was heard

Bian's eyes went wide. His entire body seized up as a blinding, unbearable pain shot through his arm.

He peered down and his stomach lurched at the sight.

His right arm.....was twisted at an unnatural angle. The skin was already turning a sickly shade of purple, swelling rapidly.

It was broken.

Completely limp.

His mind blanked out for a second before the pain crashed down all at once, and a gut-wrenching wail tore from his throat.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh!!"

It hurt.

It hurt—

"Let go—please—" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a choked whimper now. "It hurts—it hurts so much—"

The creature remained indifferent.

It only tightened its grip, dragging him closer.

Bian's body trembled violently, his chest rising and falling in ragged, shallow breaths.

This was it.

He was going to die.

The realization sent another wave of fear crashing into him, his limbs going numb.

No...

No, I don't want to die like this...

But what could he do?

His vision blurred—whether from pain, exhaustion, or the tears endlessly pouring down his face, he didn't know anymore.

And then—

The creature finally moved.

And Bian realized, with growing horror—

It was bringing him closer to its mouth.

The alien's jagged mouth was inches away from Bian's face. The foul stench of decayed matter clung to its breath, making his stomach twist violently in disgust.

He could see its rows of serrated teeth glistening with saliva, strands of thick mucus stretching between them. The sheer size of its maw was enough to swallow him whole.

Panic surged through him.

"Wait—!" he shrieked, voice cracking. "Don't eat —please, don't!"

The creature didn't stop.

The tentacles flexed, preparing to shove him into its waiting mouth.

"I KNOW WHERE THE FARIAN KIND IS!!!"

The words tore out of him in a frantic scream, fueled by sheer desperation.

The motion of the tentacles froze.

Bian dangled in midair, panting heavily, his ribs aching from the relentless pressure of the creature's grip. His body trembled violently, his broken hand throbbing with unbearable pain, but he forced himself to focus.

Slowly, the tentacle holding him retracted, pulling him back from the creature's gaping mouth.

The alien's beady black eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him.

A wet, clicking noise echoed from deep within its throat—a sound he couldn't understand, but it sent a shiver of dread down his spine.

Bian swallowed thickly, his heart pounding against his ribs.

"I... I know where the Farian prince is..." he gasped out, forcing himself to sound confident despite the terror clawing at his throat. "I can tell you—but you have to spare ! Only I know!"

The creature remained motionless, its grip firm yet no longer crushing. It was listening.

Bian seized the chance.

"If you kill now, you'll never find him," he pressed, licking his dry, cracked lips. "But if you let go—I'll tell you exactly where he is."

The alien remained eerily silent, its tentacles tightening ever so slightly around his torso.

Bian's pulse spiked.

What if it didn't believe him? What if it decided to kill him anyway?

He couldn't let that happen.

"He's hiding," Bian blurted, his voice raw. "He doesn't want to be found. Even his own people don't know where he is—but I do." He sucked in a sharp breath, his chest heaving. "I swear—I'm not lying. Let go, and I'll tell you everything."

The alien's beady eyes glinted with sothing—interest? Suspicion?

A tense silence stretched between them.

Bian could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Seconds passed.

Then—

The alien's tentacles loosened slightly.

Bian's heart lurched.

It's working.

But he wasn't safe yet.

"Take to him."

The voice was deep, guttural, yet eerily smooth.

Bian stiffened, his blood running cold. "yes but you have to promise one thing. You must kill him." A sinister smile broke out.