Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 131

Caleb’s P.O.V

It was there again, that strange, unshakable connection between Aurora and Caroline. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t notice it this time. The way they seemed to feel each other’s pain, the silent exchange of thoughts that didn’t require words—it was eerie. It wasn’t just a coincidence; it couldn’t be. But how the hell was I supposed to bring this up to her? After everything Aurora had already been through, dropping another unexplainable bomb on her felt...wrong.

Still, it gnawed at me. Should I tell her? Should I explain what I've noticed? Should I tell her what our friends and I had discovered not long ago about the Lunar Sisters?

I sat on the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my hair, debating with myself. What good would it do to burden her with more questions when neither of us had answers? I sighed, looking over at her as she lay there, her face peaceful for once, her chest rising and falling steadily. It hit me then—what she needed wasn’t more mysteries to solve, but a break. Something normal. Something human.

“Hey,” I said softly, leaning down toward her. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, meeting mine with a soft smile.

“How about we go get some breakfast? Just you and me?”

Her smile widened, and she stretched lazily before sitting up. “God, I’m starving,” she said, her voice still a big groggy.

“Perfect. Let’s sneak out before Damien or Caroline wakes up,” I suggested, standing and offering her my hand.

She laughed lightly and took it, letting me help her out of bed. “You’re terrible, you know that?” she teased. “Caroline will kill us if we come back with crumbs and no food for them.”

“Well,” I said with a smirk, pulling her toward the door, “then we better make it worth it.”

Aurora chuckled softly, and together we left the room, our steps deliberately quiet. The silence of the house wrapped around us, but for the first time in days, it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like...a reprieve and maybe, just maybe, I could hold off on that conversation a little longer.

Together, Aurora and I head up to the dining area, the hum of voices and the rhythmic clinking of utensils filling the air as some of the night patrol guards return for their meal while the day guards prepare to take their place. I glance at Aurora, a faint smile tugging at my lips as I grab both our plates, nodding toward a quieter corner of the room. She raises an eyebrow but follows as I lead her to a separate room.

The door creaks softly as I push it open, revealing a terrace bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun. The expanse of the sea stretches before us, shimmering in the sunlight, its waves rolling lazily toward the horizon. Aurora halts in her tracks, her eyes widening as she takes it all in.

“Why haven’t I seen this place before?” she asks, her voice tinged with awe as she steps closer to the edge, her plate momentarily forgotten in her hands.

“This spot’s usually reserved for special dates or occasions,” I reply, leaning against the railing, watching her face light up as the breeze tousles her hair.

“Besides, during the day, it’s usually way too hot to sit out here. The sun can be brutal, and it’s easier to enjoy the view without sweating buckets.”

Aurora shakes her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. “It’s beautiful right now, though. Almost magical.” She turns to face me, her gaze lingering on mine.

“I mean, at night, you’d have the stars and the moon, sure, but you wouldn’t get this. The sea in the daylight is... alive. It’s not the same.”

I chuckle, setting my plate down on the table and gesturing for her to join me. “You’ve got a point. Nighttime is all about the mystery and quiet, but this—” I motion toward the horizon, where the sky seems to melt into the ocean.

“This is pure energy. Vibrancy.”

She nods, taking a seat across from me but not touching her food just yet. Her eyes remain glued to the view, almost as if she’s afraid to blink and miss something.

“It’s like... the ocean is telling its own story, you know? Every ripple, every sparkle in the water—it’s alive. It feels... endless.”

I watch her for a moment, the way her words carry her thoughts far away. “Endless, yeah,” I echo, leaning back in my chair.

“Kind of like life, huh? Always moving, always shifting, even when you can’t see where it’s heading.”

Aurora looks at me then, her expression thoughtful. “I think... I’d still prefer the night,” she admits softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Not because it’s better, but because it’s quieter. Like a secret only a few get to share.”

I smirk, raising a brow. “So, what you’re saying is, this place needs two versions—daytime for the dreamers and nighttime for the secret-keepers?”

“Exactly,” she says with a laugh, finally picking up her fork. “Maybe next time, you’ll show me the nighttime version. Deal?”

“Deal,” I say, lifting my glass. “But only if you promise not to hog the view.”

I slid another serving of food onto Aurora's plate, unable to help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my lips as she tried to protest.

“Eat,” I said firmly, cutting off whatever excuse she was about to make. “You like this place, right? I’ll bring you here more often.”

She looked up at me with her soft, curious eyes, and for a moment, I felt my chest tighten. I wanted to give her everything—this, and more. Before I could even pick up my fork to start eating, Aurora interrupted me, her voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

“Caleb,” she began, her tone soft but probing, “what are you hiding from me?”

I froze, fork in midair, staring at her as though she’d just spoken another language. “What?” I asked, the word slipping out more sharply than I intended. I quickly recovered, setting my fork down.

“Why would you think I’m hiding something?”

Her gaze didn’t waver; it pierced straight through me. “I can feel it,” she said quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. “Through our bond.”

The room seemed to tilt for a second, and I fought to keep my expression neutral. My thoughts were spinning too fast to catch. Our bond? My heart thudded painfully against my ribs as her words echoed in my mind.

“Aurora, we aren’t even—” I stopped myself, the words tangling in my throat. “What do you mean by that?”

Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes remained steady on mine. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s... like I can sense your emotions, your thoughts, like they’re brushing against mine. I know you’re keeping something from me, Caleb.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling as if the air around us had thinned. She wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not yet. Not until we were mated. The bond shouldn’t have been this strong—not for her, a human. Hell, even wolves didn’t usually feel it this way until after mating. But the way she described it... it sounded as though she were already tethered to me, as if the bond was already there, unseen.

I leaned back slightly, trying to gather my thoughts without giving away too much. “Aurora,” I said slowly, forcing a calmness I didn’t feel. “I think you’re just imagining things. The bond—it doesn’t work like that. You’re human, remember?”

Her expression tightened, a flicker of doubt crossing her face, but she didn’t back down. “I’m not imagining this, Caleb. I know what I’m feeling. And you can keep denying it all you want, but I know something’s going on with you.”

I clenched my jaw, struggling to keep my composure. I couldn’t let her know. Not yet. Not until I figured out what this meant—what she meant.

Her eyes searched mine, her frustration evident, but after a moment, she sighed and looked down at her plate.

But my thoughts didn’t ease. If she was already feeling the bond, then something was happening, something I hadn’t anticipated and I couldn’t shake the fear that I had arrived too late to save her.