Claimed by My Bully Alpha

t looking in my direction—it was looking at me. My stomach twisted into knots, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs, an instinctive fear rising from deep within me.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up, my hands flying up to slam the window shut. The blinds came down in a single paRoaned motion, my fingers fumbling over the cords as I forced myself to take deep, shaky breaths.
I stepped back, my pulse roaring in my ears. It was just an animal, I told myself. Maybe a stray, maybe a wolf that had wandered too close to the house. But I knew better.
Something about it wasn’t right. Something about the way it looked at me, the way it didn’t move, just stood there—waiting. Watching.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to glance back at the window, half expecting to see those glowing eyes still staring at me through the glass. But there was nothing. Just the dark stretch of trees, the stillness of the night. It was gone.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides, trying to ground myself, trying to convince myself that I hadn’t imagined it, that it hadn’t been some figment of my exhausted mind playing cruel tricks on me. But deep down, I knew.
Something had been there. And it had seen me.

Suddenly, a knock at the stall door startled me, making me jump. My breath hitched, and I tensed, instinctively curling in on myself. I froze, not sure whether I should even answer. Who else would be here? Another person to bully me, perhaps? Maybe someone who had heard about what happened and wanted to make it wors

I bolted. Instinct took over, and I turned on my heel, aiming for the door. I barely made it two steps before a rough hand clamped down on my wrist, yanking me backward so hard I stumbled, my back colliding against his solid chest.

"Where do you think you're going?" His breath was hot against my ear, his grip tightening painfully around my wrist. I thrashed against him, kicking and clawing, but he was too strong.

"Let me go!" I screamed, my nails digging into his arm, but he only laughed, the sound cruel and mocking.

"Feisty little thing," he muttered before shoving me onto the floor.

Pain shot up my side as I hit the ground, gasping. Before I could scramble away, he was on top of me, his heavy weight pinning me down. My heartbeat roared in my ears, my breaths coming in panicked gasps as he straddled me, his hands forcing my wrists above my head.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper, my vision blurring with tears. "Please don’t do this."

His grin was all teeth, his eyes dark with hunger. "Oh, sweetheart," he purred, "I’m just taking care of you."

A sob tore from my throat as I struggled beneath him, my body shaking violently. No. No.

This couldn't be happening. Not like this. Not to me.

Chapter 1: Living a Nightmare

Aurora’s P.O.V
I jolted awake from a sharp pain on my side, my entire body feeling like I had been run over by a speeding truck. And it didn’t take long before the splitting headache made me groan out in pain.
I tried to move my body, but the sound of glass shifting under me made me halt. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dim light and the stench of alcohol and misery. It didn’t take me long before I realized that I was lying on the cold hard floor of the living room, with shards of broken glass all over the floor.
My father...
He had been home last night…
‘You little whore!’ My father’s voice sounded in my ears, loud and heavily slurred, an empty bottle of whisky in his hands. ‘Where is the money? I know you work at that stupid restaurant! Give me the money!’
‘I don’t have any money,’ I had whimpered, trying to put on a brave front, but we both knew it was all a façade.
‘Liar!’ he had bellowed as he had shoved me hard on the chest, the impact had sent me crashing to the floor. ‘Don’t you dare lie to your father, you bitch!’
‘I’m not lying, I promise!’ At that point, I hadn't been able to stop him as he hauled me up from the floor with a grip on my hair. ‘Please! You’re hurting me!’
But my words had fallen on deaf ears. ‘Turn around.’
‘I don’t have any money, I swear!’ I had insisted despite the way my body had trembled violently from the way he was roughly searching my pockets, my lips trembling uncontrollably until I had bit down on them hard enough to draw blood. But that hadn’t stopped him from ransacking my room, without caring about my privacy.
He had found the money, inside the mattress cover, a total of thirty five dollars that I had gotten as a tip from the restaurant after hours of standing on my feet.
‘You fucking liar!’ This time, I hadn’t seen the bottle coming down on me.
But I had felt the impact of the glass on the back of my head; heard it shatter on contact. My head spun; went numb from the pain as black spots danced before my eyes.
He had thrown the half-broken bottle on the floor next to me, making me flinch, as if he hadn’t just abused his only daughter. And then he had stridden out of the house, taking my week’s worth of savings with him, not caring that me and his little son wouldn’t have anything to eat the rest of the week.
Now, I blinked the grogginess away and placed a hand on the top of my head, holding back a scream of agony when I felt the pain spike as if a needle had been drilled into my skull.
Tears streamed down my face as I sat up on the floor, looking at the mess all around me. I needed to clean this up…I needed to make sure no traces of last night remained on the floor, on the whole house…
I couldn’t afford this…I couldn’t afford Riley finding out how bad it had gotten.
Getting up from the floor took a different kind of effort. My entire body trembled and ached, making me realize that my father may have kicked me further after I had fallen unconscious.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips when I realized the extent of his cruelty, but what could I do? My father made it no secret that he hated my guts, and the torment has only increased ever since my mother passed away while giving birth to my baby brother, Riley.
Now, I stood up on unsteady feet, my head spinning with the effort as I tried my best not to step on the shards of broken glass. The pain was sharp, but I had learned to push it down. I couldn’t afford to let it show.
Riley. He was safe. He was hidden in his room, tucked away where he couldn’t see or be seen. I couldn’t bear the thought of him witnessing it again. I could almost hear him calling my name, asking if everything was okay, if I was alright.
But I wa

nodded, because I believed in him. I trusted him. And then I closed my eyes to prepare myself for what was to come next.
I felt his fingers lightly brush the right side of my neck, gently massaging the area where my vein was pulsing frantically, mirroring the erratic rhythm of my heart. I wasn’t afraid…I was nervous, of course, but not afraid.
And then I felt his lips on my neck as he placed the gentlest of kisses to my skin…followed by a graze of teeth.
I clutched onto his shoulders tightly with both hands, a sudden wave of panic coursing through my veins. I was tempted to wrap my legs around his waist, but I held off, thinking it would be too intimate too soon. I bit my lower lip to stop myself from panicking…but nothing

vision blurred, my hands clenched at my sides. Surely, I had misheard him.
One of the men let out a low whistle. "Now that’s a deal," he said, stepping towards me.
I staggered back, my body trembling. "You’re joking," I gasped, my eyes snapping to my father, searching desperately for any sign of hesitation, any sign that he wasn’t serious. "Y-you can’t do this. I’m your daughter! Please!"
He scoffed. "And? You think that means something to me?" His voice was cold, detached, as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture being sold off. "You’re useless to me otherwise. At least now, you’re worth something."
My breath hitched. My own father was selling me off like some discarded trash.
"No—no, you can’t!" I screamed, but it was too late.
Two of the men lunged at me.
I barely had time to react before they grabbed me, their hands like iron clamps around my wrists. I thrashed, kicked, but they were stronger. One of them shoved me hard, and I crashed onto the living room floor with a strangled cry. Pain shot up my elbows as I hit the ground, my breath knocked from my lungs.
"Let go of me!" I screamed, twisting, fighting, but their grip was unrelenting.
I turned my head, eyes pleading, searching for any ounce of humanity in my father’s face.
But he only watched, silent.
And then, he turned away, ready to leave the house…ready to leave me in this hellhole.
The world shattered around me in ways I

Finally, Shane let the paper go and I quickly picked it up from the floor, cradling it against my chest.

“That’s enough!” Mr. Hemming snapped at everyone, before his venomous gaze turned to me. “Miss. Valentine, you should be ashamed considering your poor performance in the exam. Behave yourself!”

“But I—!” I tried to protest, but was cut off once again.

“Get back to your seat, Miss. Valentine! And stay back after class,” Mr. Hemming continued. “You and I need to talk.”

I couldn’t help but notice that even though Mr. Hemming interrupted our little fight, he still put the entire blame on me and let Shane off without even a warning.

And I knew it was because of Shane’s reputation. I was a nobody, and so I was the easier target. Shane and his group were the school’s elite, whose parents funded most of the school’s activities. So they were basically royalty.

The unfairness of it all left a gash on my chest. Still…there was nothing I could do about it. I had no power to go against the rich and famous people in my school, especially when I had no one to back me up.

“Is this understood?” he pressed, waiting for an answer.

I nodded before I slumped my shoulders in defeat, nodding, “Yes, sir.”

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. As I stumbled back to my seat at the far end of the room, I heard some sniggers from the other students, causing me to sigh at their behavior.

Wasn’t it fun to be the spectator while others get bullied? No one wanted to mess with Caleb and his gang.

Finally, after a grueling forty five minutes of photosynthesis, the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day.

The entire class immediately packed up and started to clear out of the room one after the other. I stayed back as Mr. Hemming asked me, sitting quietly and drumming my fingers on the desk to alleviate some of my anxiety.

Waiting for the rest of the class to pour out, Mr. Hemming began to clear his table, putting away stacks of papers and markers.

I watched as Caleb and his friends were the last to leave the room. And I couldn’t help but notice how he had his arm around Caroline again, gently escorting her out the room.

And as much as I hated to acknowledge it, I felt a tightening sensation in my chest, like my heart was being squeezed by invisible fingers as I watched them leave together.

But why was I feeling this way… this twinge of jealousy? It was ridiculous! I had nothing to be jealous of; after all, they were a couple…weren’t they?

But why did this weird sense of hope in my chest refuse to die? Why did I feel drawn towards Caleb like a moth to aflame?

And most of all…why did I feel this sense of foreboding in my gut that there was more that meets the eyes?

Aurora’s P.O.V
My legs dragged on the streets, barely able to hold my weight as I reached my familiar neighborhood.
The cold night air clung to my skin, sending shivers down my spine as I finally reached home. My legs burned from running, my heart still hammering in my chest from the fear that had chased me through the darkened streets.
But this was my sanctuary—my escape from everything outside. My father may not have been the best man, but at least here, within these four walls, I would be safe. Or so I thought.
As soon as I pushed open the front door, an uneasy stillness settled in my gut. The stench of alcohol and stale smoke choked the air, and the murmur of voices slithered from the living room. My fingers tightened around the doorknob as I hesitated. Something was wrong.
Then I saw him. My father.
He was lounging on the stained couch, his face gaunt, his eyes sunken and bloodshot. Around him stood two—no, three—men, their eyes gleaming with something that made my stomach churn. Their attention was on my father, their voices pressing, demanding.
"Where’s our money, old man?" one of them sneered, arms crossed over his chest. He was tall, broad, the type of man who looked like he’d broken people for fun.
My father chuckled bitterly, running a hand through his graying hair. "Come on now, boys," he slurred. "You know I'm good for it. Just need a little more time."
"Time’s up," another man snapped. "You’ve been dodging us for weeks. We need payment. Tonight."
I took a step back, my breath shallow. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to hear this. But then, as if sensing my presence, one of them turned. His eyes raked over me, lingering, darkening. My stomach twisted.
That’s when I remembered—I was still wearing the same damn outfit from earlier. A short dress, tight, revealing too much of my legs, too much of my skin. I had gone out hoping to disappear, but now, I felt utterly exposed.

Of course not. I don’t need it.”
“Exactly,” she said, nodding slowly, as if I had just proved her point. “But Aurora does.”
“Yes, and that’s why I helped her,” I argued, my frustration seeping into my voice. “Why is that so wrong?”
Caroline sighed again, but this time, there was something softer in her expression—something almost sympathetic. “Because Aurora might need it, Caleb,” she said quietly. “But she hasn’t earned it. And for someone like her—someone as fiercely independent as she is—taking something she didn’t earn would feel like a failure, not a victory.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my tongue. I wanted to tell her that Aurora deserved the scholarship more than anyone, that she worked harder than half the students who applied, that I was only giving her what she

“Deny the connection all you want, but I know you feel it too.”