Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 140

Aurora’s P.O.V

I stand there, my fingers loosely interlaced with Riley’s, his quiet presence grounding me as the flames consume what was left of my father. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and ash, but it doesn’t choke me—it feels almost cleansing, like the end of something long overdue.

Riley’s small hand wrapped tightly around mine. He hasn’t said much since we arrived, but I can feel his quiet relief, the weight that has lifted from his young shoulders.

Telling him about our father’s death hadn’t been as hard as I’d feared. I thought he’d cry, that he’d be scared or confused. Instead, when I told him our father had become a star, just like Mom, he looked at me with those wide, knowing eyes of his and asked if that meant he couldn’t hurt us anymore. When I said yes, he just nodded, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. It broke my heart and mended it all at once, seeing him so wise beyond his years.

All along…he had known of my suffering, and he was glad that our father could no longer hurt me; hurt us.

Now, as the fire crackles and spits, sending sparks into the smoke darkened sky, I don’t feel anything for the man whose body lies within the pyre. He was never a father to me, never someone I could run to when I was scared or sad. He was a shadow in our lives, one that loomed too large and stayed too long. My memories of him are sharp edges and cold silences, moments I spent shielding Riley from his wrath or trying to shrink myself so I wouldn’t draw his attention. Watching him burn doesn’t feel like loss; it feels like closure, a chapter I’ve been desperate to finish.

Caroline squeezes my hand gently, and I glance at her, grateful for her quiet support. She and the rest of the family—our new family—stand with us, silent witnesses to this ending. They don’t say much, but their presence is enough. Riley shifts beside me, his gaze fixed on the flames. For a moment, I wonder what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask. I don’t need to. The way he stands a little taller, his shoulders less tense, tells me everything. For the first time in years, we’re free.

The funeral had been a blur. Faces I barely recognized offered me condolences, their words floating past me like echoes in a cavern. When Alpha Camden approached, his voice low and steady, something about the way he looked at me made my defenses falter. He didn’t say much—just a simple, heartfelt expression of his sorrow—but it felt warmer than anything I’d ever received from my father in my entire life. For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him, unsure how to respond.

My father had never been kind, never looked at me with that kind of quiet understanding. Alpha Camden’s presence was strangely grounding; a reminder that kindness wasn’t an illusion, even if I’d rarely experienced it. I thanked him, my voice barely above a whisper, and he didn’t linger, giving me the space I didn’t realize I needed.

After the ceremony, Caleb found me lingering at the edge of the clearing. Neither of us spoke as we walked into the woods, the silence between us as natural as the wind threading through the trees. I appreciated that about Caleb—he never forced me to talk but was always there, a steady presence when my world felt chaotic. The crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound until we stopped by the all too familiar lotus pond, and Caleb finally broke the quiet.

“Are you really okay, Aurora?” His voice was careful, concerned, as though he feared his question might shatter me.

I hesitated, staring at the water. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be,” I admitted. “But I don’t feel anything. Not grief, not anger, just… relief. Does that make me a horrible person?”

Caleb stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine, offering comfort without intruding.

“No,” he said firmly. “Your father was the horrible one, Aurora. He hurt you, over and over again. Feeling relief that it’s over doesn’t make you bad—it makes you human.”

I swallowed hard, his words settling over me like a balm. “It’s just… people keep telling me how I should feel, what I should do. But I can’t mourn someone who never loved me.”

“And you don’t have to,” Caleb said softly. “You deserve to feel free, Aurora. You’ve carried so much for so long.”

For the first time that day, I let myself breathe. Caleb’s quiet understanding was all I needed, more than I thought I deserved. I wasn’t sure what came next, but with him by my side, I felt less lost.

When Caleb pulled me into his arms, his embrace was tight, almost desperate, as if he feared letting go would mean losing me all over again. For the first time in days, I felt a shred of peace wash over me, his warmth anchoring me. I finally allowed myself to exhale, a sense of relief settling into my bones.

“I think I’m ready to see my house one last time,” I murmured against his chest, my words trembling but resolute. 

The shift in his body was immediate. Caleb stiffened, his arms no longer holding me with the same ease but instead rigid, almost guarded. My heart dropped into my stomach as I leaned back to look up at him.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, dread already coiling in my chest. He didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he avoided my gaze.

“Caleb?” I pressed, more firmly this time. 

His hesitation was palpable, the silence stretching uncomfortably between us before he finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Aurora… there’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice low and edged with guilt.

“After we found your dad… after we found his body… I went to your house to try and figure out what happened.” 

My pulse quickened, each word sinking like stones in my chest. “And?” I prompted, my stomach churning. 

His gaze darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. “When I got there… the house—it caught fire. Out of nowhere. Within minutes, it was completely engulfed. There was nothing I could do.” 

The weight of his confession slammed into me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, as if my mind had gone completely blank.

“Wh—what?” The word escaped me in a rush, disbelieving. “It burned down? Completely?” 

He nodded solemnly, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry, Aurora. I tried to understand what was going on, but the fire—it happened so fast.” 

Panic flared inside me as I grabbed his arm. “Were you hurt? Did you get out okay?” The thought of him being trapped in the blaze, risking himself, sent a wave of terror through me. 

“I’m fine,” he assured me quickly, his hands coming up to hold onto my shoulders. “I got out before the fire could spread. I wasn’t hurt.” 

I stared at him, my mind racing. The house, my home, the last piece of my life before everything fell apart—it was gone. But Caleb was safe, and for now, that was the only thing that mattered.

“But I managed to get something for you before it completely burned down.” He told me. “I just hope it means something to you.”

I watched as Caleb carefully reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, weathered box. My breath hitched the moment he held it out to me, and I recognized it instantly—the intricate carvings on the lid, the faint traces of paint my mother once proudly restored when I was a child. I couldn’t stop the tears that spilled down my cheeks, a surge of emotions overtaking me like a flood. My chest tightened as I clutched the box, feeling the weight of its history in my trembling hands.

Caleb frowned, his voice gentle but concerned, “Aurora, what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

I shook my head quickly, wiping my face with the back of my hand, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“No, Caleb,” I said, my voice cracking under the pressure of the moment. “This box—it belonged to my mother. I thought it was lost forever.”