Sold To The Alphas I Hate novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77: Please Don’t Die

Eira’s POV

The distant hum of helicopters reached my ears first, followed quickly by the sharp, relentless crack of gunfire. The sound swelled, filling the air with chaos, yet I remained seated, unmoving.

Roman had warned me earlier that their enemies might attack. It seemed he had been right.

But I felt nothing—no fear, no panic. Those emotions had abandoned me long ago, leaving me hollow. The last time they had returned was that night... the night they tortured me with tarantulas.

Roman strode into the drawing room, his tone clipped and commanding. "Eira, get to the safe room."

I looked down at Vixen, warm and curled in my lap. Even if I didn’t care for myself, I cared for her. She was pregnant, and there was no way I would allow her—or her unborn kittens—to be harmed.

I rose, holding her gently, and made my way to the hidden safe room, following the instructions Roman had given me before. He didn’t wait to see if I complied—by the time I reached the concealed door, he was already gone.

Inside, the room was plain but well-prepared, stocked for survival: a folded mattress with a thin blanket in one corner, shelves lined with bottled water and packaged snacks, and even a small toilet tucked against the far wall.

I placed Vixen on the mattress and found two empty bowls. One I filled with dry snacks, the other with fresh water. Satisfied she would be comfortable, I stepped back toward the door. This place was the safest for her, no matter what happened beyond these walls.

I didn’t lock the door. Instead, I left it slightly ajar—narrow enough that she couldn’t slip out, but open enough that, if something happened, someone could find her. She couldn’t remain here forever or she would die.

Outside, the sound of shattering glass pierced the air as bullets tore through the windows. Sharp cracks and dull thuds echoed against the walls, leaving dents in the plaster. Explosions shook the ground, each one rumbling through the floorboards.

It was like standing in the heart of a warzone.

And yet... I wasn’t afraid.

Because for years, I had been seeking one thing above all else—death. Perhaps this was it. My chance. If nothing interfered, if nothing came between me and the end, maybe I could finally have it.

But in these past years, I had also learned something else. The more I sought death, the more it seemed to run from me.

Bastard.

My feet were still hurt, and despite trying to ignore that pain—thinking it wouldn’t do any shit to me—I was still unable to make it out fast. Utterly weak, despite my will being stronger.

I just hoped at least a bullet entering through the window would hit me straight, but damn, not only did few enter here and there, none of them were in my direction. What kind of shit fate did I have? What kind of enmity did death have with me to not give in to my wishes?

Death must be a man—and just like every other man, that bastard wants me to suffer. But I was stubborn as well.

Somehow, I managed to reach the exit of the home and saw the chaos outside—bullet fires from all sides, huge helicopters lingering in the air, blasts, and many figures moving like shadows, some falling to the ground.

I made my way outside from another direction, making sure Roman and the others wouldn’t spot me, so I would be found by their enemies and they would shoot me without even a moment’s delay.

Slowly, steadily, determined, I continued to make my way toward where I could see bullets being fired toward the home. Soon, two men—who seemed like soldiers—appeared before me, their guns pointed toward me.

I looked at them with a steady gaze as I was not scared. That’s it. Shoot me now. My soul will always be thankful to you.

But the bastards started to lower their guns. What the hell? Why are they not shooting me instead? Want to fuck me before doing that?

For God’s sake, at least just once in your life, think from your non-existent brains, and not from your cocks.

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