My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 55: Tomato target and hungry influencers ( Luther’s POV )

Chapter 55: Tomato target and hungry influencers ( Luther’s POV )

"You’re so full of sh-t!"

Got me out to dinner and ended up sacrificed as a weak twink on an Instagram live?

I had enough of tonight’s slander. All of you running your mouths like the world should obey.

You want bread and a spectacle? Great, I am about to tear your flesh down layer by layer-

Colosseum style.

I can hear glass shattering on the floor. A woman is panicking about the mess as a waiter comes to clean. Neither are looking at each other.

They are looking at us.

"Puppy?"

Emiliano tries to gain control over the situation. His figure looms over me despite the 2-inch difference between our heights. All of him screams "danger".

All of it, except his hands. His surgeon’s steady hands were trembling out of control.

Don’t you know, dear husband? Never let the person you kidnapped out of your basement. Let alone bring him to a very public restaurant.

Guess I will be the one teaching you that lesson, dear.

"None of you loves me. You are the cause of my suffering, Killian just tries to get in my pants with his hands stained with blood and my father? Oh, my father-"

"Luther."

My father-

Correction.The Prime Minister stood up and filled the room with his threat wrapped around my name.

Somebody cursed under their breath. Another one gulped rather loudly, almost to the point of choking. I can hear some car doors banging out loudly and rapidly.

The press, the news channels probably arrived.

Well, the more the merrier, right, daddy? All publicity is good publicity.

"What, daddy? Are you gonna lock me up in the basement for three days of -corporal penalty- to teach me a lesson? Or you do that only when I dare to let my omega pheromones out?"

A buzz of gasps and raging Instagram live comments crammed not only the room, but my father’s ears.

There was just one person enjoying the chaos nonchalantly, forgetting he could be next-

Emiliano.

He was chuckling like a little girl, almost twirling his hair around his finger like he was watching the best drama of the year. As much as it annoyed me that he wasn’t scared of what I could say, I was also strangely empowered by it.

I mean- he looked like he was ready to jump in if someone interrupted my monologue.

And it’s not the worst thing to have the most deranged psychopath of them all in your corner.

Right?

"Ladies, gentlemen and nonbinary viewers."

I cleared my throat.

Not because I had any kind of lump in my throat. Actually, it was the first time in my life I could breathe and speak my mind.

Just like my muzzle would have been taken down.

I wanted to slow down the moment so the press could enter the room before I could probably destroy my father’s career.

Watch out for your next presidential candidate. His rugs are dirty. There is so much dirt under there, it resembles Mount Everest covered with a napkin.

"Cassian Wilkers, your dear Prime-Minister, used to beat his son to a pulp for days, ignore him to the point of not meeting basic needs and covered my secondary gender until it was useful to be handled in his campaign."

My father’s face turned from red rage to purple insanity. You would think he forgot to breathe if his nostrils wouldn’t flair up so threateningly.

The faint hum of disapproval turned into almost a yelled protest of the restaurant guests. These were not just every day civilians either-

Rather celebrities, influencers and nepo babies would rally against my father.

Why?

Not out of compassion or genuine care, of course. Social pressure.

That was the only reason.

They are live streaming to thousands and thousands of regular people-

People who face discrimination and hate worse than what I experienced every day.

If they don’t react like this-

If they are not "fighting against the oppressor", they lose the cloud, the fans, the popularity.

The money.

The power.

Their lives.

So, when everyone at the restaurant started to throw food and water on my father while cursing him out-

It was not out of morality or basic human decency.

It was a survival game.

And the top of the food chain just became edible.

My father just stood there, glaring at me, while smashed cooked tomatoes slithered from his forehead down his shirt. That look used to tire my nights out with nightmares and night frights.

But now-

Now all I see is an old powerless man staring surrounded by the ruins of his empire.

I should take a chance of this opportunity and speak my mind about Emiliano and Killian as well. The public protection should last about one week of trending.

One week until they forget about me and nobody cares anymore.

Enough time for me to leave the country and start fresh.

As if he read my mind, Emiliano moved his attention to me.

While enjoying my father being crucified by the media, Emiliano sat down sipping on his glass of wine, twirling the red liquid around and around and smiling.

But as I thought about getting my freedom, the air changed. Became heavier.

And just me and him were aware of it.

He slowly got up and walked to me, positioning himself on my right side. Letting the weight of his head fall gracefully on my shoulder as he shattered my hope.

He traced his thumb on my jawline and whispered in my ear:

"Puppy, you know what my pheromones could do, right?"

I turned my head to look him in the eyes. Nothing but boiling honey, his gaze dripped on me. Suffocating, yet comforting.

He continued to whisper in such a raspy tone, I could feel every follicle of my arm hair standing up like it’s a drill alarm:

"If this whole building of people were to die, who do you think they would blame? A random man never seen before or-"

Oh.

"The sensitive toxic omega who just fought with his father?"