Page 120 of Claiming Pretty

Ciaran’s brows furrowed deeply, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the fuck are you talking about, Ava?”

Ty’s voice was calm but sharp, the edge of unease betraying his usual composure.

“She’s right,” he said, his fingers running over the line in the journal he was holding. “Our father called her his gift. It’s in here. Multiple times. Fuck, why didn’t I make the connection before?”

Ciaran looked like he’d been struck. His face contorted with fury, a storm brewing in his eyes.

“That sick bastard…” His voice cracked, and he slammed his fist into the wall, the sound reverberating through the loft.

I couldn’t look at either of them. My hands shook as I closed the journal in front of me, but it wasn’t enough to block out the words burned into my mind.

My foster father’sgift. His muse. Hisfucking property.

“I’m part of it,” I said again, more firmly this time, though my voice wavered under the weight of the truth. I forced myself to meet Ciaran’s gaze, his anger bleeding into a flicker of anguish that tore at my chest. “This riddle—this initiation—I’m part of it somehow.”

“It’s not happening.” Ciaran cut me off, his voice a growl. He crossed the room in two strides and stood over me, hisshadow falling across the journal I’d shut. “I’m not letting them use you for whatever twisted game they’ve planned.”

Ty exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “This changes things. If Ava’s part of the initiation—”

“It’s not up to you,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt, meeting his glare head-on. “If this is the only way to bring them down, then we do it.”

Ciaran’s eyes burned into mine, his hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to keep from shaking me. “I’m not risking you.”

Ty’s voice broke through the charged silence. “We don’t have a choice, Ciaran. This isn’t just about you or me or Ava—it’s about taking down the Sochai, all of them.”

Ciaran whirled on him, his fury redirected. “You don’t get to decide that,brother. You’re not the one they want to use.”

“And neither are you,” Ty shot back. “But if we want to win this, we need to play their game.”

Their voices rose, but I tuned them out, my focus narrowing to the words in the journal still clutched in my hand.The Gardener’s gift.The weight of what it meant settled over me, heavy and suffocating.

Whatever this riddle led to, whatever the initiation demanded—I was at the center of it.

That left the last section undeciphered.

Chasing the raven.

The journals were dense with madness, but as I turned another yellowed page, a single word struck me like a slap.Chasing.

My breath hitched, and my fingers froze mid-turn. The professor had used that term repeatedly, always in connectionwith… with me. My throat tightened as I scanned the page, the realization crawling over me like a thousand spiders.

He hadn’t meant chasing in the traditional sense. It was his twisted code for administering a potion.

My stomach churned as the memories crept closer, clawing at the edges of my mind—nights where my body wasn’t my own, where the world slipped into a haze, where waking up meant discovering another bruise, another betrayal.

I slammed the journal shut, the sound breaking through the suffocating silence in the loft.

“What is it?” Ciaran asked sharply, his agitation immediately redirected to me.

“It’s…” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, gripping the edges of the journal until my knuckles whitened. “The word ‘chasing’—it means administering a potion.”

I glanced between Ciaran and Ty, my eyes burning. “That’s what the professor called it.Chasing.”

Ty’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, as if it all made too much sense.

Ciaran, however, looked like he might explode, his fists curling at his sides.

“Administering what?” Ty asked, his tone careful, measured.

---