Page 79 of Hunting Pretty

Stop being paranoid, Ava.

I took the files to a desk in the empty study section at the far back of the giant library.

The Dublin Public Library was a sprawling labyrinth with several wings branching off the central hall.

During the day, the grand, arched windows spilled natural light onto the uneven wooden floors, but this late at night, the library was shrouded in a solemn darkness.

Flickering lamps illuminated the aisles that weaved through the space like a maze, leading to unexpected corners, alcoves, and disappearing into shadowy recesses.

Towering shelves stretching toward the Victorian chandeliers were crammed with leather-bound books, filling the air with the scent of old parchment and ink.

This late, I was the only one left here. So, the silence was even more palpable.

On the thick wooden table, under the light of the banker’s lamp, I laid out all the files I’d managed to collect, looking for threads.

I glanced at my own closed brown file sitting on the very top, a file I hadn’t had the courage to open yet.

MaybeIwas linked to the missing girls somehow?

Was it only a matter of time before I too disappeared? Before I also became a missing girl?

And if I was linked, maybe the key to unlocking their cases was right there in my own file.

It was the closest I’d come to a breakthrough.

So why, when I reached out to open the file, did my hands shake so bad I had to clutch my fingers into the folds of my skirt to stop them trembling.

Come on, Ava. Just open the file. Learn the truth.

Even if it’s a terrible truth, isn’t it better to know?

The truth could be brutal, tearing through every wall I’d built, leaving nothing but raw wounds.

Once I uncovered it, there’d be no going back.

Ignorance, in some ways, was easier—cleaner.

Staying in the dark meant I wouldn’t have to face the ugly reality. I could keep living as I had, pretending that everything was fine, untouched by the mess waiting on the other side.

But then again, what if not knowing was worse?

The doubt, the constant questions eating away at me—what if—would it ever stop?

The darkness of not knowing could be just as suffocating, trapping me in an endless loop of uncertainty.

Maybe the truth, as painful as it might be, was the only way to break free, to finally understand.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it shattered me.

But was I ready for that? Did I really want to face the truth, knowing it could rip everything apart?

Or was it safer to stay in the dark, where at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences?

My phone vibrated off the edge of the desk, making me jump. When I looked up after retrieving it from the wooden floor, I saw that I was alone. How late was it?

Checking my phone sent a chill down my spine.

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