Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 122

Aurora’s P.O.V

I couldn’t feel my legs as Caleb held onto me, his arm steadying me as I stumbled forward, each step dragging me closer to the reality I didn’t want to face. He’d tried to talk me out of this, his voice firm but edged with the kind of worry that made my chest ache.

"Aurora, you don’t have to do this," he’d said, his hand squeezing mine just enough to anchor me. But I couldn’t listen. I’d insisted. I had to see him. The thought of not looking at him one last time, was unbearable. So here I was, my insides hollow, my breath catching with every sterile, metallic-scented step toward the morgue. Caleb was silent beside me, and though I could feel the tension in his every movement, he didn’t argue further.

The healer greeted us with a somber nod, her eyes flicking between me and Caleb, her lips pressed into a thin line. I couldn’t meet her gaze for long; it felt too much like acknowledging the truth I still wasn’t ready to accept. She led the way, her steps careful, deliberate, as if she knew every movement carried weight.

When we reached the tray, my body went rigid. The sight of the white sheet covering what was once my father made my heart race, but in a dull, detached way. I wasn’t ready, and yet I couldn’t wait. My voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

"Can you… take it off?"

The healer hesitated, her eyes scanning me, likely trying to gauge whether I could handle it. "It might be upsetting," she warned softly, her voice gentle.

Caleb’s hand tightened on my arm. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel his silent plea for me to reconsider. I shrugged him off, stepping forward as the healer’s hands moved to the sheet. I didn’t care how upsetting it would be—I needed to see him.

My breath hitched as the cloth was pulled away, and there he was. Pale. Still. The lines of his face so familiar, yet so foreign in their stillness. My knees threatened to give out, but I forced myself to stand. Forced myself to keep looking, even as something inside me cracked wide open.

He looked almost unrecognizable, his body shriveled up, his skin pale and sunken, like a forgotten corpse long past its expiration date. For a moment, I froze, staring at the figure on the cold, metal table.

Was this really him? The man who had caused so much pain and destruction? The man I had cursed in my nightmares? My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I turned to the healer.

“What... What happened to him?” My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded, how small.

The healer, a woman with kind but weary eyes, stepped forward cautiously, as if I might shatter at the slightest provocation.

“Severe dehydration and malnutrition,” she said softly. “He starved to death.”

I blinked, my mind struggling to process her words. Starved? He starved? My stomach churned, a nauseating mix of anger and disbelief bubbling up. Before I could respond, she added.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Her words were the final straw. The dam inside me broke, and I spun toward her, my voice rising.

“Sorry for my loss? Sorry? You shouldn’t be sorry, not for me, and definitely not for him!” I jabbed a finger in the direction of the corpse, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall.

“The only person who should be sorry is that bastard lying dead on the table!”

The healer flinched but didn’t say anything, her lips pressed into a thin line. I didn’t care. The floodgates were open now, and I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I turned back to him—or what was left of him—and let the fury consume me.

“Why didn’t you suffer more, huh?” I screamed at the lifeless body, my voice cracking with raw emotions.

“Why didn’t you feel every single ounce of pain that you deserved? You think dying of starvation was enough? You think that makes up for all the hell you put everyone through? You have any idea how difficult it was for me to raise Riley all by myself?” My chest heaved, my breaths rugged and uneven as the words spilled out. “Starved? You have any idea how many nights I starved myself to get food on the table? Do you have any idea how it felt to work hours on end and go to bed on an empty stomach? You were supposed to be the fucking adult!”

I stepped closer, my nails digging into the edge of the table as I glared at him. “What, were you high? Drunk? Did you drown out the pain with drugs and booze like the coward you always were? Did it make it easier for you, huh?” My voice echoed in the small room, harsh and unrelenting. “You deserved worse! You deserve to suffer!”

My throat burned, and my vision blurred completely now, hot tears streaming down my face. I didn’t wipe them away. I couldn’t. All the anger, the hatred, the years of pent-up rage—it all came pouring out, and there was no stopping it.

Caleb, along with the healer stood to the side, their expression unreadable, but they said nothing. The corpse, of course, didn’t respond. It just lay there, silent and empty, as if mocking me with its stillness.

I backed away, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. “You don’t get to just die like this,” I whispered, more to myself than to anyone else. “You don’t get to leave without paying for everything you’ve done.”

And yet, he had.

The lights overhead flickered suddenly, the dim glow casting eerie shadows along the sterile walls of the morgue. My heart pounded in my chest as I stood there, staring at the lifeless corpse on the cold metal table. My fists clenched at my sides, the rage inside me bubbling over like a dam broken free. The sight of him—still, unfeeling, and free—was too much to bear.

“You don’t get to just lie there and escape it all!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I reached for the tray of surgical tools on the nearby table. My hand swept across it in a blind fury, sending scalpels and forceps clattering to the floor.

“You don’t get to leave without facing what you did! Without apologizing to me! To Riley!” My voice rose with every word, trembling with the weight of my anger and grief. “How dare you take the easy way out? After everything you put us through...”

I didn’t even realize my legs had begun to give out beneath me until strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back. Caleb.

“Aurora, stop!” he hissed, his tone firm but laced with concern. He dragged me away from the table as I struggled against his hold, my nails digging into his forearms in a futile attempt to free myself.

“No!” I screamed, twisting in his grasp. Tears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, blurring my vision.

“He didn’t deserve to die like this! He deserved to suffer! To pay for what he did! Do you hear me?” My voice broke again, the words spilling out in desperate, anguished sobs. Caleb didn’t let go, even as my body shook with the force of my rage.

The healer quietly shut the morgue door, leaving the two of us in the dimly lit hallway. Caleb turned me to face him, his hands gripping my shoulders firmly.

“Aurora, listen to me,” he said, his voice gentler now, but his eyes hard with determination. “This isn’t the way. You’re hurting yourself more than anything. Please, stop.”

But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. The weight of it all—the betrayal, the pain, the injustice—pressed down on me, suffocating and inescapable.

“He deserved worse!” I sobbed, my knees buckling as my energy waned. Caleb caught me, lowering us both to the ground as I clung to him, my cries echoing through the empty corridor.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand running soothingly over my back as I buried my face in his chest. “I know, Aurora. But you can’t let this destroy you. He doesn’t get that power over you anymore.”

I wanted to respond, to argue, to scream, but the fight in me was fading. The edges of my vision darkened as exhaustion took hold. My sobs quieted, replaced by shaky breaths, and I could feel my consciousness slipping away.

“He should’ve paid...” I murmured weakly, my words barely audible as I finally surrendered to the darkness.

Caleb held me tighter, his voice the last thing I heard before everything went black.

“He’ll never hurt you again, Aurora. I swear it.”