Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 258

Aurora’s P.O.V

Frustration gnaws at me, but before it can take root, I hear Alice’s voice—calm, soothing, unwavering.

“You’re forcing it, Aurora,” she says, her voice a gentle chime against the storm inside me. “You don’t command your power. You listen to it. You let it speak to you.”

I clench my fists, my brows furrowing. “That doesn’t make any sense. How am I supposed to listen to something that doesn’t have a voice?”

Alice chuckles softly, the kind of laugh that holds patience, as though she’s dealt with a hundred others like me before. “Because it does have a voice. You just haven’t learned how to hear it yet.”

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head, but I tried again. I imagine the candle, the tiny flickering flame. This time, I don’t force it to stay lit. I just watch it, let it dance, let it breathe. The tension in my shoulders begins to fade, the pressure in my chest easing little by little. My hands loosen, my heartbeat steadies.

And then, I stopped thinking about the candle entirely. I don’t know why, but my mind shifts, drifts toward something else—someone else. My mother.

I don’t fight it. The memory comes unbidden, washing over me like a wave, pulling me under its warmth. I see her face, the soft curve of her smile, the way her hands always felt warm when she cupped my cheeks. I remember the way she used to hum while brushing my hair, the scent of lavender clinging to her clothes. She was my anchor, my guide. Even now, even in the hollow space where she no longer exists, I can feel her.

And suddenly, the candle inside me doesn’t feel like a struggle. It doesn’t feel like something I need to force into existence. It just is. It’s there, waiting, steady and patient, like her.

A breath shudders out of me, and Alice must see the shift in my expression because her voice softens even further. “Good,” she whispers. “You’re starting to understand.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. The flame is alive inside me now, and for the first time, I’m not afraid to let it burn.

I close my eyes, letting the weight of everything settle in my bones. The atmosphere is still cold, the air thick with the scent of damp stone, but then—like a dam being broken, more memories come flooding in. My mother. Her smile, so radiant, so warm, the way she laughed like the world had never once broken her. I remember how she would twirl me in the rain, holding my hands as we spun, our clothes drenched but our hearts full. It was always when he wasn’t around. When the storm of his presence wasn’t looming over us.

A lump forms in my throat, but I refuse to let the darkness win. Instead, I let my mother’s warmth flood my mind, gripping onto every memory, every whispered word she had ever gifted me. And then I hear it…my mother’s voice. Faint, yet powerful.

‘You are stronger than you can imagine, my love.’

My breath shudders as the words echo in my soul. Stronger. Stronger. I clutch onto them like a lifeline, refusing to let them slip away. A fire starts to burn inside me, slow at first, like embers being coaxed to life. Then it grows. It spreads, surging through my veins, licking up my spine, igniting something I thought had long been extinguished.

I don’t realize I’m trembling until my fingers curl into fists. The warmth isn’t gentle anymore. It’s an inferno, roaring, consuming, demanding to be acknowledged. I am not weak. I am not the helpless girl Lucas tried to break. I am not just a memory of who I used to be. I am here. I am alive. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel cold.

My eyes flutter open as the chaos around me fades into a strange, suffocating silence. The acrid scent of something burnt fills my lungs, making me cough as I struggle to process what just happened. My hands tremble as I lift them, noticing faint wisps of smoke curling from my fingertips. My breath catches in my throat. 

"Aurora!" Caleb’s voice is frantic, desperate, but before he can reach me, Alice’s firm hand on his chest stops him in his tracks. 

"Wait," Alice warns, her voice laced with something between awe and fear. "Don’t touch her." 

I blink rapidly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I look down at myself, expecting burns, pain—anything to explain the raw energy coursing through my veins. But I feel... untouched. Whole. The same, yet somehow irreversibly changed. 

Gasps ripple through the crowd surrounding me, their eyes wide, their expressions ranging from shock to terror. My stomach twists uneasily. I follow their stares, my gaze snapping to the ground before me. And that’s when I see it. 

A blackened circle, scorched into the earth. The grass, the dirt—everything in that space is charred beyond recognition. And I’m at the centre of it all. 

My pulse pounds in my ears as I stagger back. "What... what did I do?" My voice is barely a whisper, but in the suffocating silence, it sounds deafening. 

Caleb’s face is a mask of turmoil, torn between concern for me and worry as he looks at the scorched earth. Alice, always the calm and calculating one, watches me with narrowed eyes, like she’s assessing what I’m truly capable of.

My hands still tremble at my sides, my pulse wild and erratic. I don’t know how to explain what I feel, the way my body hums with energy, with something powerful, something unnatural.