Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 193

Caleb’s P.O.V

Damien and I tore through Harmona’s room like two people desperate for something, anything that might give us a clue about where she went or what she was planning. I couldn't help myself. The room was a mess, luggage discarded, clothes tossed aside, her things scattered everywhere.

It felt wrong, looking through her stuff like this, but I was past caring. We needed answers, and if we had to dig through everything she left behind to find them, then so be it.

Damien, however, seemed more annoyed than desperate. "This is pointless," he muttered, flicking through one of the spell books she'd left behind, barely glancing at it. "We don’t know shit about magic, Caleb. You’re wasting time."

I shot him a glare, but my voice remained steady. "Keep looking. You never know. At this point, anything could be useful."

He let out a deep sigh but grudgingly flipped through another book, clearly not as hopeful as I was. I, on the other hand, didn’t have the luxury of giving up. I rummaged through every drawer, knocked over a chair, and even upturned her luggage, scattering the contents all over the floor. The more I searched, the more I realized how little she’d left behind. Nothing valuable, no hidden messages, no sign of where she had gone. It was like she knew exactly what I’d do, exactly what we’d be looking for—and left behind the things that didn’t matter.

Damien muttered something under his breath, finally throwing the last of the books aside in frustration. "I told you," he said, glancing at me. "She knew this stuff wouldn’t help. She left it all on purpose."

I stopped, frozen for a second as the weight of his words sank in. Of course. Harmona wasn’t careless. She wasn’t stupid. She knew we’d come here. She knew we’d try to piece things together from the things she’d left behind, and so... she’d left behind nothing worth finding. I slammed my fist into the side of the dresser, frustration boiling over.

Damien looked at me, his face unreadable. "Now what?"

I didn’t have an answer. But I could feel it in my gut—this wasn’t over. Harmona was always two steps ahead, and if we were going to get anywhere, we’d have to start thinking like her.

I could feel the tension rising in the air, and something just didn’t sit right with me. I needed to know more. I connected to my father via the mind link, my thoughts sharp and urgent as I asked,

"How did you come into contact with Harmona?" There was a brief pause, almost like he was searching for the right words, before his voice echoed back to me in a calm, measured tone.

"When I reached out to the Chrone of the coven I was on good terms with, Harmona answered," he began. "She told me the Chrone was unwell, and that she’s been looking after the coven in her stead. That’s all she said."

I frowned, narrowing my thoughts. Harmona’s sudden appearance felt too convenient, too clean. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a sick Chrone. "Father," I thought back to him with urgency, "I need you to find out what’s happening at that coven now. Whatever happened to the Chrone, I’m sure Harmona’s behind it. She’s got to be."

Before he could respond, I felt a sharp tug on my attention—Damien’s call slicing through the link. My mind snapped to his urgency, cutting the conversation short.

"Caleb," Damien’s voice rushed through my head, "Get over here, quickly." The sense of urgency in his tone pulled me into motion, and I knew whatever was about to unfold was going to be a storm.

Damien was holding up something, but I couldn’t focus on the object itself. It wasn’t about that—it was about what was inside, what it could mean. I reached for the book in his hands, and he looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t stop me as I grabbed it from him, flipping through the pages with frantic hands. It was an old thing, worn and yellowed with age, and I could feel my heartbeat racing as I turned page after page, my eyes skimming over everything. But then I stopped. My fingers froze as I came across a picture stuck to one of the pages.

It was a photograph…taken long ago.

I could barely tear my gaze from the photo. Harmona, much younger, stood next to a man with striking green eyes and another woman in that photograph. What threw me off was not just the picture itself, but the context. This was taken at what appeared to be a work party. And the woman standing right next to Harmona, smiling like she belonged there, was none other than Aurora’s mother. She was casually holding a beer glass, seemingly just another person at the event. What caught me offguard was that how similar Aurora looked to her mother.

I felt the blood drain from my face as the pieces started clicking into place, but the more I looked at that photo, the more the questions piled up. Why was Aurora’s mother in a photo with Harmona? What was the connection between Harmona and the man with the green eyes? The questions swirled in my mind, unanswered, leaving me on edge.

I stared at the photo, my pulse hammering in my ears, the weight of it all sinking in. There was something so much bigger at play here, something none of us had even begun to understand. My mind raced, and the silence that followed felt suffocating. I could hear Damien's breath beside me, his presence heavy, but right now, none of that mattered. This—this image, this revelation—was what mattered. And it was only going to lead to more chaos.

But at least this was a start.