Claimed by My Bully Alpha (by Anna Kendra) novel Chapter 58

Claimed by My Bully Alpha

Chapter 58

Aurora’s POV

At first, I couldn’t see anything in the darkness of the room. My breathing is uneven, my heart hammering as I try to make serine of where I am. The air is thick, stale, as if no one has been here for a long time. My hands reach out in front of me, blindly searching for something–anything–that will give me an idea of my surroundings. And then, a light flickers on.

1 squeeze my eyes shut against the sudden brightness, my pupils protesting the change. My skin prickles as dread slithers its way up my spine. A voice follows the illumination, smooth yet carrying an edge of something sharp, something dangerous.

“Aurora.”

1 recognized it immediately.

Mr. Hemming.

I couldn’t believe it…how? Why…

A cold wave of nausea grips me. My stomach churns violently, and my body instinctively tenses, every muscle ready to fight or flee. My eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light that casts long, eerie shadows against the walls. And there he is. Sitting on the only piece of furniture in the room–a bed.

He’s watching me. Amusement flickers in his dark eyes, but beneath it, there’s something else. Something cruel. My mouth goes dry as he leans forward. elbows resting on his knees, his expression unreadable.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he says, his voice carrying a dark satisfaction. “For my chance at revenge.”

His words strike me like a physical blow. I feel my pulse spike, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The way he looks at me–the way his lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk–tells me everything I need to know.

Panic surges through me, and I whip around, bolting towards the door. My hands fly to the handle, fingers trembling as I twist and pull. Locked. From the outside.

“No, no, no,” I whisper, yanking harder. I slam my fists against the door, my voice rising in desperation. “Help! Somebody help me! Please!”

But there’s no answer. Only silence.

And then, he moves..

Before I can react, his presence is behind me, looming, suffocating. His hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me back with terrifying ease. A scream catches in my throat as I stumble, my balance lost as he pulls me toward the bed.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he murmurs, his grip tightening.

I thrash against him, my nails digging into his skin, my body twisting in a desperate attempt to break free. But he’s stronger. So much stronger. My mind races, thoughts colliding into each other as terror threatens to paralyze me,

I can’t let this happen.

I have to get out.

“Let me go!” I cry, kicking out, but he is on top of me, straddling me and trying to pin my wrists above my head,

I try not to flinch as he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear, his voice dripping with condescension and something darker–something that makes my stomach turn.

“You’re a naughty whore,” he murmurs, his tone as smooth as silk but laced with venom.

“Dressed up just for me, weren’t you? But now you want to play hard to get?” His fingers tighten around my wrists, pinning me beneath him, his weight pressing down in a way that makes it hard to breathe. The scent of sweat and cologne fills my nose, making me nauseous. I turn my face away, trying to

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Chapter 58

ignore the way my heart slams against my ribs, but he doesn’t like that. His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look at him, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You think you can just tease me and run?”

I bite down on my lip, fighting the panic clawing at my throat. I can’t let him win, I can’t let him see me break. My body terises as I struggle beneath hist twisting, jerking, trying to find any kind of leverage, but he’s stronger. He lets out a low chuckle, as if enjoying my helplessness. I grit my teeth, the feeling of his hands on me making my skin crawl, I need to get out. I need to get away from him. The room feels smaller, suffocating, and my mind races for an escape, for anything I can do to make him let go. And then–I see it. An opening.

I don’t think so. I act. With every ounce of strength I have, I bring my knee up, slamming it right into his groin. The moment my knee makes contact, a sharp grunt of pain rips from his throat, his body stiffening before he topples over, hands clutching himself. His face contorted in agony, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and I didn’t waste a second.

I shove him off me and scramble to my feet, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. My pulse roars in my ears as I spin toward the door, expecting it to be locked–expecting another fight. But when my fingers wrap around the knob and twist, it turns.

It’s open.

Shock flares through me for only a split second before my survival instincts kick in. I don’t stop to question why. I don’t hesitate. I don’t look back.

I run.

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