Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 331

Aurora’s P.O.V

Ashton didn’t speak at first. He exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with a hand that looked like it had seen too much of the world. His shoulders were hunched slightly, like the truth was weighing them down. “Aurora,” he said finally, voice soft but resonant, “the Earth is ancient. Older than our kind, older than magic itself. It’s a vast reservoir of energy—raw, untamed, and alive. Every root, every blade of grass, every drop of rain… all of it holds life. Energy. That’s all life really is. Energy moving in a pattern.”

He reached out, taking a pebble from next to him and throwing it at the sea. The pebble skipped once, before sinking into the waves. “I didn’t bring it back from the dead the way necromancers do. I didn’t tear it from the afterlife or anything. I borrowed it…I stopped it’s soul from entering into the afterlife. That’s all. I asked the Earth for a little piece of its energy… and I gave it to him.” His eyes met mine, solemn and sincere. “He’s small. His life force is tiny. It didn’t take much. But don’t ask me to do that with a person, Aurora. Or a wolf. That kind of transfer would drain everything from miles around. Maybe even me.”

I was quiet for a moment, trying to wrap my head around it. My fingers curled around my sleeve, picking at the fabric absentmindedly. “I wasn’t going to…I’m just trying to figure out how this all works. So… it’s not resurrection. It’s… redistribution,” I whispered. “A loan.”

He nodded. “Exactly.”

I stared at him, feeling a shift in the air between us—something reverent, something terrifying. On the surface, what he explained seemed normal…logical even. But there was something about this whole thing that terrified me…like a storm brewing in the horizon that I wasn’t even aware of.

“Do you know what you are?” I whispered. “That kind of connection… that kind of control… it’s not normal.”

His mouth lifted in a tired smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Normal’s never really been my thing.”

There was a long pause between us before he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted. “That kind of thing—it takes more out of me than I let on. I need to rest. I’ll head back, alright?”

I nodded slowly, though part of me didn’t want him to go just yet. There were more questions than answers now, more shadows than light. “Ashton,” I called out as he stood up from the sand.

He turned slightly, dusting off sand from his trousers.

The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a silver trail across the restless ocean. I tucked my hair behind my ear, feeling the breeze kiss my cheeks as I turned to him. His eyes—quiet, searching—held mine like they were afraid to let go, like maybe tonight something had shifted fundamentally and he was worried that I might not be able to take it. But it wasn’t the case. Not completely.

"Goodnight," I murmured, my voice barely rising above the waves lapping at the shore. I forced a smile, soft and steady, even though a part of me felt like something was unraveling inside. “You should go. It’s late.”

He hesitated, and I felt it—the weight of his reluctance, the way his feet shifted but didn’t quite move. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then nodded slowly. “You’ll be okay?”

I nodded. “I will. I just… want a moment with the sea. I need to think.”

He lingered for a beat longer, before a haunted expression crossed his features. “Aura…are you scared of me now? After what you saw?”

I took a moment to think, to try and get my feelings straight…but I knew that this wasn’t so simple.

“I’m not scared of you,” I said, and maybe that wasn’t the whole truth, but part of it. “But I think I’m scared for you.”

He didn’t reply. Just gave me that same haunted smile and disappeared into the woods leading to the pack, leaving me with a thousand thoughts, and the unbearable weight of knowing the world was more complicated than I had ever imagined.

The air was different now. Still salty and damp, but tinged with something heavier—something wrong. I turned, slowly, toward the place where the turtle had been not long ago, where I had watched it being reborn from, leaving behind only the pattern of its crawl and the quiet reverence of the moment.

But now, the sand there was… black.

My breath caught.

Not like wet sand, not dark with seawater—but stained, like ink had seeped up from the depths of the earth and painted it. My feet moved on their own, step by cautious step until I was kneeling at the edge of it, staring at the unnatural patch that marred the shore.

“What the hell…” I whispered.

I reached out slowly, fingertips trembling, heart pounding louder than the surf behind me. The moment my skin grazed the sand, a jolt shot up through me like lightning. I gasped, my whole body recoiling instinctively as my finger snapped back, searing pain flickering in my nerves. I cradled my hand, shaking, stunned.

Then I saw it.

The pendant.

The one that had belonged to my mother, the one I hadn't taken off ever since Caleb had brought it back to me. It hung around my neck, resting above my heart… and now, it was glowing. A deep, pulsing red—like embers caught in a slow, smoldering fire.

“No…” I whispered, watching in horror and awe. “No, this isn’t—this isn’t normal.”

It had never glowed this color before. Not like this. It had shimmered a lush emerald, maybe. Caught the light of the sun. But never—never burned with a color that seemed alive. My heart thudded faster, each beat chasing the next in a frantic rhythm.

I stumbled back onto the sand, still staring at the pendant, my mind spinning. What had I touched? Why did it react? And why now? My mother’s voice, long buried in memory, whispered like a ghost in my ear: “If it ever turns red… you run.”

But I didn’t run.

I stayed. Frozen. Kneeling in the sand, watching the glow flicker stronger, brighter, like it was calling something. Or warning me.

Maybe both.

And for the first time in years, I felt something stir deep in my chest—a fear that hadn’t lived there since I lost her. But also… a spark. A pull. A beginning.

I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid of it or if I should follow it. All I knew was that this night had just changed something forever.