Page 115 of Claiming Pretty

I chose that exact moment to speak, my tone unhurried as I continued gazing out into the darkness. “Ciaran Donahue.”

The dean froze mid-step, his back stiffening. Slowly, he turned his head toward me.

“You knew my father,” I said, finally meeting his gaze.

His eyes flickered, his composure slipping for the briefest moment. Then he relaxed, settling back into his position with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

So far, so good.

I forced myself to relax, leaning slightly against the stone railing as if I belonged there. But the ease I projected was a lie. Every second in this man’s presence felt like a knife pressed to my throat.

The dean brushed an invisible speck of lint from his lapel. “Pity about your father.”

It was a test. I couldn’t falter.

“My brother was an ungrateful brat,” I said, my voice dropping to a snarl. “I wish I’d been the one to kill him.”

The dean clicked his tongue in disapproval. “He’s family.”

“Myfatherwas family,” I snapped.

The dean’s shrug was as dismissive as it was deliberate, his indifference setting my teeth on edge. He was holding his cards close, but I had to force him to show his hand.

I gripped the stone railing, my father’s signet ring scraping against the surface.

A cold chill ran down my spine as I looked at the curl of snakes in that crest, but I couldn’t afford weakness now.

I turned the ring slowly on my finger, the weight of it feeling heavier than ever. “I’ve recently felt… a desire to reconnect with my beloved father’s legacy.”

The dean tilted his head back, staring at the sky as if bored by the conversation. But his voice betrayed his interest. “Our roots are important.”

I swallowed my revulsion and forced out the words. “He was a great man.”

“Hmm.” A noncommittal response.

My throat tightened. “I want to be a great man like him.”

The dean shifted his gaze down to me, his sharp eyes dissecting every nuance of my face.

“In any particular way?” he asked softly. “Your father was a brilliant scientist… a generous philanthropist… an involved member of his alma mater’s alumni society… a loving father ofthreebeautiful, beautiful children.”

I knew he was watching for the smallest flinch, the tiniest crack in my armor. My nails bit into the stone railing as I fought to keep my expression neutral.

“In which way do you mean, Mr. Donahue?” he pressed, his tone almost kind.

I couldn’t say it. The words burned in my throat, too vile to voice. To claim a legacy tied to the Sochai—to the things they’d done to Ava—was unthinkable.

But Ava’s face flashed in my mind, her fiery determination that I’d admired and feared in equal measure. This was for her. It had to be.

“I want to join the Sochai,” I said at last, my voice cold and steady despite the storm inside me.

The dean’s brows furrowed slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that is.”

He moved to step away, and panic surged in my chest. Shit.

“I’m demanding an invitation to join as is my birthright,” I said firmly, my voice cutting through the misty night.

The dean paused mid-step, then slowly turned back to face me.

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