My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas
Chapter 78: The room where it happened ( Tom’s POV )

Chapter 78: The room where it happened ( Tom’s POV )

"What did you say?"

"They used a legal trick to arrange your arrest under an absurd amount of caution."

"Oh."

Luther switched his eyes to Emiliano.

His eyes gleamed—caught somewhere between hope and fear, bright with the fragile weight of both. But then they shifted, flicking away in a quiet collapse as the truth settled. The betrayal had landed. And in that single glance downward, he let the light drain from his gaze without a word.

Emiliano smiled reassuringly.

"I already paid for it."

Lu let out a long breath, shoulders sinking as the tension drained from his body. The exhale was quiet, almost shaky, like he’d been holding it in for far too long. For the first time, his face softened—relief settling into every line. The peace didn’t last long.

"We have another problem aside from Emiliano’s ten billion-dollar receipt."

Lu stared at him, stunned—like the world had just tilted slightly sideways and no one else had noticed. His mouth opened, then closed again, unable to decide if this moment needed words or if words would only cheapen it. His brow furrowed, eyes locked on the man with the glasses as if trying to confirm what he’d just heard.

Ex-blondie lounged there with that unbearable calm, one leg crossed over the other, long hair falling perfectly in place like it always did. He lifted his coffee cup with the same smug, unbothered elegance he applied to everything else. No urgency. No guilt. Just that slow, deliberate sip, like the entire room existed for his morning ritual.

He looked up—right into those stunned eyes across the room—and smiled. Not a smirk this time. No mockery. Just something warm. Soft. Infuriatingly gentle, like he’d just wrapped the poor idiot in a silk ribbon and handed him his own heart.

Then came the shrug. That damn shrug. Loose, lazy, perfectly timed—as if to say, So what? You’re surprised?

I rolled my eyes and looked away, because I couldn’t stand watching him work his magic. That look, that calm, that golden-eyed saint act. He always knew exactly when to act like a true husband. And Luther had the luck to need that act every time.

"Lu, this is serious!"

My voice cracked.

Was it pathetic to use the excuse of what just happened to distract Luther from Emiliano and to make him look at me?

Yes. Of course.

Did I do it anyway?

Yes. Of course I did.

No matter how low and dirty the atuu, I had to use it all since Emiliano’s claws were so deeply buried into my lover’s chest.

"Yes, of course, sorry.", said Luther, disoriented as Emiliano annoyingly scoffed."What happened now?"

"You have a bounty price on your head."

Damian’s voice echoed through the living room.

We all just kinda stood there in silence.

Emiliano stopped mid-sip.

It was subtle—no dramatic pause, no clatter of porcelain, just the slightest hesitation as the cup hovered inches from his lips. His fingers didn’t tighten, didn’t tremble. His face didn’t change. Still unreadable. Still maddeningly composed. But I saw it. I felt it.

The air shifted, heavy in the chest. His golden eyes, usually so distant and amused, darkened under the glass of his lenses. Not literally—but somehow they reddened, like a flare behind a mask. Heat behind a pane of ice. Rage didn’t twist his expression. That would’ve been easier. He just went still—controlled, unblinking stillness. And that was far more threatening for whoever put on the bounty.

Luther stood across from him, not moving either.

He looked like someone had yanked the floor out from under him mid-step. His mouth parted slightly, no words. Just breathing. The kind that barely got through. His shoulders stiffened, and his eyes—those strange, violet eyes—glossed over, glassy with something deeper than shock. He didn’t sob. He didn’t flinch. He just stared, tears caught in his throat like they couldn’t decide whether to fall or choke him.

He gulped them back. Not out of pride, but sheer disbelief.

I looked between them, and then to him—Damian.

The omega looked like he’d floated in from another reality—one where nothing was ever urgent, and consequences were someone else’s problem.

His blue eyes sparkled, not with mischief, but with indifference. Like he’d dropped a live grenade in the middle of the room and didn’t care enough to see where the pieces landed.

He strolled across the thick silence in his pink satin robe, the fabric catching light like rosewater. It swished lightly with each step, tied carelessly at the waist, slipping just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone. The tension in the room was thick enough to choke on—Luther still stunned, the man with glasses visibly seething—but Damian moved through it like it was a warm bath.

Then, without a word, he reached over and took the coffee straight from the man with glasses—fingers brushing his in the process, light and slow. He didn’t even look at him. Just lifted the cup and took a long, unbothered sip.

Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just said the very thing no one else dared to say aloud.

He exhaled softly after the sip, lips parting slightly as if critiquing the taste. Then he turned, robe swaying, and wandered off a few steps—utterly untouched by the wreckage he’d left behind.

Before Emiliano grabbed him and held him suspended in the air by his neck.

Damian dangled in the air, his feet barely kicking, eyes wide with panic. His face had gone pale and bluish, lips parted in silent gasps, curls clinging to his damp skin. He clawed weakly at Emiliano’s arm, fear flooding every inch of him as he hung there, weightless and breathless in Emiliano’s grip.

"How do you know that?", the taxidermy psycho asked calmly.

Although there was nothing calm about those red ruby eyes. Damian might as well have written his own sentence to death.

Luther intervened unsuccessfully trying to move, to pull, to snatch Emiliano’s hand from Damian’s throat as the blonde omega twitched breathlessly threatening to pass out any second now.

Crimson markings appeared around the yellow pressured spots of which Emiliano dug his fingers into.

Before I could do anything, Lu fixed Emiliano’s anger.

Another act of self-sacrifice, I knew it.

Yet seeing them kiss, I couldn’t help but have my heart broken.

It happened in a blink—soft, sudden, and completely at odds with the tension in the room.

While Emiliano held Damian effortlessly in the air, his arm locked and steady as the frail man kicked and gasped, he turned his head just slightly toward Luther. Their eyes met for half a second—something quiet passing between them—and then Lu leaned in.

A slow, tender tilt of his head.

A quick, deliberate press of lips.

Brief. Barely more than a breath. But full of something unspoken—grounding, possessive, almost gentle in its contrast to the chaos hanging inches away.

Then it was over. Emiliano pulled back without a word, red eyes returning to Damian with a glint that had nothing tender left in it.

He let go. Damian, passed out, hit the floor with a loud bang.

"I will kill him anyway later. You know that, right?", Emiliano said with an indescribable look.

"There is no need to go that far.", Luther pleaded. "If he wanted the bounty, he would have killed me without letting me know."

The alpha pressed his lips into a straight line. He was not convinced at all.

"I can’t risk you."

His tone was set in stone, cold and rigid.

"At least, give him back to Killian.", Luther whispered, grieving as the blonde man laid unconscious.

"Do you really think it’s best to admit to future killing a guy in front of a lawyer, love?"

Emiliano looked at me surprised.

"So you would risk Luther? For a guy you just met?"

"That’s not the point and you know it!"

As my voice echoed through the room, I could feel it bend under the defensiveness of my tone.

Emiliano smiled. He knew he won.

So he pulled Luther into a tight hug. As if to show me that every slip I make, the closer he will pull my lover in.

Luther broke free, but not out of resilience. He just wanted to grasp the situation he was in better.

"A bounty on my head-" he said, trying to process. "How much?"

"Enough for half the population to put a target on you."

"Don’t worry, pup. You are safe here. Who would dare to do something to my home?"

Just as the words left Emiliano’s mouth, the window glass broke loudly, shattering into pieces all over the living room.

A small ball rolled in the middle of the chaos.

Small, matte, and horribly still, sitting like it had every right to be there. The pin was gone. The silence wrapped around it like held breath, and the world seemed to tilt a fraction as every eye snapped toward it—too late, too slow. The air itself felt like it flinched.

A grenade.