Page 138 of Claiming Pretty

“That’s rape,” I blurted out.

The dean smiled. “Exactly.”

Bile rose in the back of my throat. Was this their initiation? Did every entry into their twisted society happen through this sick act? To rape a drugged girl in front of their camera, the evidence tucked away to keep everyone in line?

If the dean really thought I was going to fuck Ava as he watched, he could add senile to the list of sadistic and perverted.

The only way I would expose even another inch of Ava’s thigh would be if I gouged out the eyes of every man here first.

The dean settled onto a low cushioned bench thatcurved around the room, his critical gaze slicing through me. He tilted his head just slightly, the smallest movement, but it carried the weight of a predator sizing up its prey.

I was unraveling. I knew I was risking the mission, but I couldn’t—God, I fucking couldn’t.

My chest felt like it might collapse under the pressure. My skin burned, my heart pounded like a drum in my ears, and my legs betrayed me, frozen in place. Gray flecks swarmed at the edges of my vision.

The dean shifted his legs, uncrossing and recrossing them with practiced ease. He brushed some invisible speck from his knee, his posture casual, but his voice was razor-sharp. “If this is a problem—”

“It’s not.” The words ripped out of me before I could stop them, harsh and unsteady. I dragged in a breath, forcing air into my lungs, commanding my body to comply.

I hated him.

He didn’t just destroy good things—he savored its destruction.

And I knew, as clearly as I knew my own heartbeat, that he wouldn’t stop.

Not until someone stopped him.

Not until we stopped him.

And if I had to pretend to rape Ava for their cameras, for their sick perverted eyes, I had to do it.

With a hint of entitlement in my voice to cover up my faux pas, I said, “I’ve just never had to perform in front of a camera and a room of wrinkly old men before.”

The dean narrowed his eyes. “Trust me, son. If you can’t stomach this, then you certainlydon’tbelong with us.”

With an equal measure of pain and acceptance in myheart, I stepped toward the altar and lay Ava down on it, her lower legs dangling off the end.

I laid my sweaty palms flat on either side of Ava’s thighs and its cold shocked me because all I felt was churning heat inside.

I studied Ava’s body for any sign, a flinch, a whimper, a wince—that she didn’t want me to go through with it.

But there was nothing.

My darling Ava was stronger than I was. Braver than I was. Able to endure more than I ever could.

If I loved her, I had to honor her sacrifice. Her choice.

Okay then. I would do it. I would defile Ava before these monsters, but it would kill me. It would fucking end my soul.

As I slid my hand onto Ava’s thigh, the beep of the camera beginning its recording drilled a hole through my ear straight into my brain.

I almost faltered.

This act with Ava was a precious thing.

Not to be soiled in their memories, recorded as blackmail.

I pulled my hand away and dragged it through my hair to hide how terribly it was shaking.

---