My Father Sold Me to a bunch of Crazy Alphas

"Are you ok?"

"You just said the only man who truly loved me is dead. Not to mention my flower—"

"Are you in pain?"

"No, but if stupidity were to be painful, you’d be screaming in agony."

His voice was just as cut-throat as it always was, but his eyes were unfocused. Teary. Lost.

He pushed me aside to get a glass of water.

The tap leaking droplets was the only thing that broke the silence that pressed the air.

I couldn’t breathe.

I was aware that my lungs were filling themselves with enough air and yet, my vision got blurry. My knees weaken as I listen to Luther slowly choking between sips, trying not to crash down into what I can only imagine was agony.

But it’s good.

His suffering is good.

It leaves me just enough space to squeeze in as a carnal comfort. As a replacement.