Claimed by My Bully Alpha Chapter 366

Aurora’s P.O.V

He nodded slowly, the wind whistling through the gazebo’s cracks around us. “You’re right.”

I looked away, blinking fast. “That doesn’t fix it.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But that’s not what I’m talking about, Aurora.”

I looked back at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“I get it, alright?” Shane said, his tone lower than usual, but still laced with that blunt edge he always carried like a blade strapped to his hip. “I know I haven’t been the best to you. Hell, I’ve been an outright asshole at times. I acknowledge that.”

I stared at him, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. I wanted to scoff, to spit venom right back at him, but something about the way he said it… it made my throat burn instead. Not because it was touching—don’t give him that much credit—but because I knew it was true. He was owning it. Something he rarely did.

“But I need you to understand something,” he went on, walking a few steps closer, the weight of his boots heavy against the floor, like each word was an anchor. “My instincts—whether as a soldier to this pack or as a wolf—they’re never wrong. They’re not perfect, no… but they don’t just conjure things out of thin air either.”

I clenched my hands into fists. “What the hell does that even mean, Shane?”

“It means if you can’t get your relationship with your own siblings straight,” he said, a little more firmly now, “then don’t put that on me. That’s not my burden to carry.”

That’s when something in me snapped.

“Oh, screw you!” I yelled, stepping forward now, feeling that fire in my chest start to blaze out of control. “If you hadn’t put that stupid idea into Caleb’s head, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place!”

The air between us crackled like lightning before a storm, but instead of getting angry… he laughed. That cold, disbelieving kind of laugh that didn’t reach the eyes.

“Oh, Aurora,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly. “You really think I control Caleb? That boy is many things, but he’s not a mindless fool.”

“Then what was that?!” I demanded, voice cracking, all my hurt bleeding through. “What happened at that Alpha’s office, what he said to me—he wouldn’t have said any of that if—”

“He’s the future Alpha,” Shane cut in, his eyes narrowing, voice sharp now. “And he chose to say it. He did. You’re acting like he’s some damn puppet. But if he agreed with me, if we both felt something was off… then maybe something was.”

I stood there, swallowing down every insult, every furious retort that begged to leave my lips. My heart was racing. I hated how calm he sounded. How sure.

“You don’t know everything,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady even though everything in me was trembling. “You don’t know what it’s like… trying to hold everything together. Trying to be enough for everyone and still being the one who gets blamed.”

“I never asked you to be everything,” he said simply. “But you sure as hell decided to carry it all anyway.”

I stood there, swallowing the lump in my throat as Shane’s words echoed louder than the wind rushing past us. I had just tried to explain it—everything I felt, every doubt I had buried deep in the pit of my stomach, the instincts I had brushed off like mere paranoia. I thought he would understand. I thought he would be the one to listen and maybe say something that would make this mess make sense. But instead, he turned on me with a look that cut deeper than any blade could.

“You say I’m the one who ruined your family,” he said, voice cold and laced with accusation, “but when you were standing there in front of the Alpha, why did you just nod and agree with Caleb like a mindless puppet?” My breath caught. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Or was it,” he continued, eyes narrowing, “that you did feel something was wrong—but now that everything’s unraveled and you’ve been proven wrong—you’re just trying to pin it on me? Is that what this is, Aurora?” My name sounded like venom on his tongue, and I flinched.

“Shane… that’s not fair,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice. He shook his head slowly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips, more sadness than malice in it. “What’s not fair is being blamed for something when you didn’t even try to speak up back then. You just went along with whatever Caleb said like it was gospel.”

His hands clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I saw the hurt flicker in his eyes—just for a second—before he turned away. “I thought you were better than that,” he muttered. And just like that, he left.

No dramatic exit. No raised voice. Just the heavy, deafening silence of his footsteps retreating into the dark corridor, leaving me frozen where I stood.