CHAPTER 161: RAIN ON ME ( LUTHER’S POV )

Lucrezia kept her word and made me a free man. Today was supposed to be the first day of my freedom.

Of course, I would have to play as Lucrezia’s puppet for a few months, but it was just a matter of time before she would sabotage herself.

Not because she wasn’t smart enough to not, but because she became too arrogant and greedy.

Plus Emiliano is practically untouchable.

No random civilian would know who this guy is if they saw him walking down the street.

Actually, I think only a handful of people really knew what he looked like, despite his name being either a chant of bad luck or a promise of a good time underground.

So it didn’t really matter how much Lucrezia could destroy his reputation since he never really got on with the public display.

As for destroying his connections?

Lucrezia might have been the Queen of Pharamceuticals - bless her soul - but this guy was playing 3D chess while she was playing checkers if we talk about the drug industry.

He invented about five types of different drugs that not only overload the dopamine dosage to the point of body break, but they were so addictive that only death could make you stop consuming them.

Not to mention how good he was at marketing.

He would always pair them up with expensive alcohol and good quality gardens.

What differentiated Emiliano’s gardens from any other dirty slump that smelled of omegas’ bodies was the fact that Emiliano’s omegas would always act like they wanted to be there.

Not coerced, not threatened, no drugged out of their mind, but fully conscious and willing omegas that promise a good time without the worry of any disease.

Of course, it was less than the dream job, but he would make sure the omegas were not hurt without their knowledge and consent.

He would pay him extra, put their kids through college and assure a more than upper-class life for their families.

Faking human decency by buying their lives, Emiliano decoded his garden with only the best, getting any public figure you ever deemed decent hooked with addiction.

After all, those alpha were nothing but men with a superiority complex looking for a rush for their egos.

Emiliano could be the most evil devil that ever walked down Earth and they would not care. If the quality of their debauchery was top quality, the source didn’t really matter.

So Lucrezia could never really destroy him.

She couldn’t take his gardens away or his talent for making drugs. No reputation to destroy.

She did the only thing her little mind thought that would affect such a man—

Stealing me.

But Emiliano didn’t really care about me anymore. At least, I don’t think he does since I’ve left him in that forest to bleed from the leg I stabbed.

Because he could have found me.

I could hide anywhere on this Earth and Emiliano could find me if he wanted to.

So I am free.

Until Lucrezia deems me useless, I am a free man.

"Luther, stay inside now!"

Lych?

But I’ve never heard Lych yelling before!

What is happening?

Lych stepped in drenched in rain, breathing heavily and shivering.

What happened?

He was supposed to see if the car worked right for tomorrow’s trip.

Why is he acting like this because of a bit of rain?

"Lych, what happened? Are you ok?"

"The rain— f-ck, it’s burning so much! Is my skin melting off? It’s unbearable!"

Dropping on the floor, Lych started to convulse violently.Rain dripped from his clothes, leaving a trail across the wooden floor.

His pink hair was soaked, hanging low over his eyes. His body tensed. Fingers curled in toward his palms. His arms jerked once, then again, harder. His back shifted awkwardly against the floor, shoulders rising in uneven bursts.

A low sound escaped his throat, but it was cut short by a sharp motion in his neck.

His eyes blinked rapidly, unfocused. Then they froze open, wide and glassy.

His legs stretched out stiffly, then recoiled, his boots scraping across the wet floor.

For several seconds, he didn’t move—just lay there, breathing shallow and fast.

Then another tremor rolled through him. His spine twisted slightly. His hand struck the floor with a muted thud.

Gradually, the movements slowed. His chest rose and fell with uneven rhythm.

One hand twitched, then stopped. His pink hair stuck to the side of his face, water collecting along his jaw.

A damp sleeve shifted as he tried to move, but his limbs were heavy and uncoordinated. He stayed on his side, eyes open but unfocused, breaths shortening.

"Lych!"

What am I supposed to do?

Rain.

Ok.

I need to get him in the shower. Get rid of his clothes.

Is he still breathing?

His chest stopped rising.

I froze.

My hands shook as I reached for his neck, pressing trembling fingers against cold skin—no pulse.

My breath hitched.

I tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and forced air into his lungs.

Nothing.

Please, breathe.

Please.

Please.

Please.

Stay with me!

Lior!

Lior?

Lych!

F-ck!

I tilted his head back and opened his mouth, making sure nothing was blocking his airway. His lips were pale. I pressed two fingers to his neck.

Weak pulse.

I started chest compressions. Hard and fast. I counted under my breath. I didn’t stop to think.

After thirty compressions, I gave him a breath. His chest barely moved. I gave another.

His body twitched, not like before—just a flicker in the fingers. I went back to compressions.

My arms ached, but I kept going.

I checked again—still no proper response.

Then, a cough. Wet and weak, but real. His chest heaved slightly. His fingers twitched again, more controlled this time. I turned him onto his side, steadying his head.

His breathing was faint, uneven, but it was there. I stayed close, watching him. His blue eyes flickered, then settled half-open.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move again.

But he was alive.

I didn’t let go of his hand.

I don’t have time to run him a bath. His heart may give up any moment now.

The door burst open with a crack that echoed through the room. I flinched and turned sharply.

A man stepped inside—huge, broad-shouldered, soaking wet, his coat clinging to him like armor.

He didn’t hesitate.

His boots pounded across the floor toward us with heavy, certain steps.

I moved to block him, but he was already past me.

He knelt beside Lych without a word, one large hand brushing me aside.

I tried to push back, but his arm caught mine with controlled force.

Not a hit.

A warning.

I froze, heart hammering, unsure what he was about to do.

From inside his coat, he pulled a small case. He flipped it open quickly and pulled out a syringe filled with something green.

I reached for his wrist, but he was faster. The needle was already in.

He pushed the plunger.

The liquid disappeared into the unconscious Lych’s arm. It was over in less than five seconds.

I lunged at him, my fist pulled back, ready to swing.

Before I could connect, Lych gasped.

Loud. Sudden.

Deep, like the first breath after drowning.

His entire body tensed under the sound. His chest rose sharply, then again, steadier this time.

He was alive.

Awake.

I dropped my arm, backing off a step, eyes still on the stranger.

He didn’t look at me.

His attention was still on the man on the floor, watching him like a doctor watching for signs of stability.

When he seemed satisfied, the stranger stood.

He reached into his coat again.

I tensed, ready for something worse. But he simply extended his hand.

A phone. Black, ordinary, screen lighting from a call with an unknown number.

I stared at it for a moment.

My fingers hovered near it but didn’t move. He kept holding it out—steady, expectant, not forcing.

I looked from the phone to his face.

He showed no emotion. Not anger. Not relief.

Just calm focus.

"Hello?"

"Did you enjoy my rain, puppy?"

Emiliano.

The invisible rope around my neck tightened as his voice tugged on it.

"Playtime is over, puppy. Time to come home."

"You almost killed him..."

"Nope. I saved him. I have not only saved your little friend Lior when Killian shot him, but I saved this homeless flea as well.I am making an effort for you, puppy!"

His low voice echoed into my eardrums, making my poor heart forget how to beat properly.

So close to being free.

I was so so close.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just leave me alone? You made the rain to bring your stupid apocalypse. Why do you keep tormenting me?"

"I love you, Luther."

I couldn’t help but laugh.

It wasn’t natural. It came from somewhere too deep to point exactly.

Oh God, I am tired of him.

I am tired of feeling this weak for a monster.

"Give me the chance to be good for you, puppy. I can give you everything you ever want or need. Just come home..."