Luther.
Luther will die if I don't get up now.
The scent is so strong, it makes my lungs burn.
It feels like I am cremated alive.
I can't see straight- just blurry shadows.
I think I am laying face down in my own spit. Or is it blood? Vomit? I can't tell.
All I can move are my fingertips.
I tried to drag my body towards the room. To reach Luther. But I'm too heavy.
It's like expecting a Barbie doll pulling a train.
But- just like Barbie- I need to try everything.
So I dug my nails into the floor and pulled myself with all my might.
My nails are about to pop clean off my skin. The pain is unbearable.
The rumble of steps.
Luther coming back?
No.
Same height, but I recognise that damn doctor gown.
Emiliano.
"Poor little alpha. Can't breathe?"
I want to tell him off, but my mouth is frozen shut. My gaze says enough though.
If only looks could kill.
He chuckled.
Fake, deep voice. Filled the room. Made it even more sinister.
Let's review what I know:
My aunt's bodyguards are dead at the entrance. They ripped their own throats out, trying to breathe.
Luther filled the room with his toxic pheromones. If I don't get out in the next three minutes, I'll end up like them.
3. Luther can't stop his pheromones. If he keeps it up like this, he'll enter into pheromone shock.
Emiliano is here so either aunt sold Luther out sooner than she said OR he's been with us since we escaped.
He's just staying in the room clocked up with gas poison, chilling and looking around like he's at a f—king gallery.
How?
Isn't he an alpha too?
When he attacked me with his pheromones the first time, I'm pretty sure they were of a dominant alpha.
So how come he can not only resist, but entirely disregard Luther's scent?
I can feel him towering over me.
He grabs me by my face.
"See where you belong? In your own pool of spit and vomit."
He presses his shoe on my spine while keeping my face up. A bit more force and he will snap me in two.
And I can't do anything about it.
"But you're fun."
He released my face, making my head hit the marble wet floor.
Hard.
"So here's a miracle for you."
Needle in my neck.
Correction. In my throat.
My body starts to tremble violently. I can't control my limbs. Can't breathe.
Air fills my lungs, but it feels like I am inhaling pure and unfiltered fire.
Tar.
I feel it coming out of my nose. My ears.
I think my eardrum was perforated.
I can barely hear. Just my heartbeat. In my stomach. A vein is twitching aggressively on my temple.
I am dying.
"You're fine. I gave you a remedy."
He crunches in front of me.
No matter how blurry my vision is, all I can see is that superior smug.
I swear on Luther that one day, I'm gonna punch it clean off his mug.
"Didn't make it painless though. Gotta show me you wanna keep playing after all. Poor little alpha."
I gather my strength. I need to tell him about Luther.
He needs to save him.
Revenge can wait. Luther can't.
"Luther. Die"
That's all I could mumble.
And it was received.
A slight frown. A look towards the door. A satisfied smile.
"Oh, Luther is dying? Well, I'd better hurry then. After all, I am too young to be a widowed man."
Before leaving, he tapped my cheek with his shoe.
Near my mouth.
As if he were waiting for me to kiss his feet before any further act.
Is he insane?
Luther is dying out there and he wants to play Messiah with me?
F—k.
Fine.
Psycho.
Just save him already.
I pushed my lips together and pressed them with all the power I had left on his shoe.
A wet, sloppy kiss, drizzling with regurgitated food and saliva.
Happy?
Is this enough for you?
A loud guttural laugh.
Like a fat cat that had just been fed, he started to rub his belly.
Very funny.
The heir of the biggest pharmaceutical company.
A symbol of power and high class-
Reduced to nothing but kissing feet between blood, snort, vomit and saliva.
Wanna take a picture?
It would last longer.
A scream breaks the atmosphere. A woman.
"He's going to jump! Someone stop him!"
Emiliano gets up. Not fast, but clearly disturbed.
Luther.
Luther is going to jump to his death?
All because of me.
No.
Because of them.
In the door frame, my dear aunt was watching the scene.
Her frame stayed composed, but I could tell from the way she was clutching her Chanel purse -
The way her Cartier earrings were clicking from her tremble-
She saw everything.
And she was pissed.
"We had a deal", she said.
Her voice was shaking as well.
I've never heard her talk that emotionally before in my life.
"I found Luther on my own."
Emiliano fluttered his hand in the air slightly as a dismissal gesture.
As if Lucrezia were a mere mosquito buzzing him annoyingly.
"No. My nephew got him here. I was about to call you. Are you going back to your word?"
"Your pathetic insignificant heir stole him from my property. I am here to reclaim my property."
"What?"
Lucrezia's frame was no longer still.
While I couldn't see her expression given the drug effect, I could hear her heels clicking in her shivering.
"So you lost.", Emiliano continued." I hope you'll pay the price as we discussed."
"No."
"Very well. I'll act accordingly. Your company will go bankrupt before the end of the week."
"Hah. Don't be ridiculous. You don't have that power."
"Don't I?"
Emiliano came closer to her. Whispered something into her ear.
Giggled.
Then shoved his shoulder into hers as he exited the room.
Hopefully in search of Luther.
And I-
I had to witness a blasphemy.
My aunt-a woman who had a spine of steel
A titan too big to trip over.
A pilon
Reclaiming her balance by leaning into the door frame. Hand gripping tightly her overly botox-plump mouth. An eerie hum.
Almost like a whimper.
It was more likely to witness God coming to Earth to tap dance at a chill competition.
Then to see Lucrezia crumble like that.
What could he possibly say to her?
To resort to the symbol of the cold class and undestroyable aristocracy to fumbles and whimpers?
For the first time in my life since mom died, I am scared.
I wasn't scared when I deep-dived into a pool of sewage and cadavers earlier.
Or when I started to suffocate.
When I had Emiliano's needle in my throat.
But now-
This is the most frightening thing I have ever witnessed.
The wrath of God. Wrath of Emiliano.
My aunt - the unshakable royal symbol- was trembling uncontrollably.
She didn't gaze upon me.
She just mumbled to herself something as terrifying as it was cryptic-
"I lost Clara."