Page 113 of Claiming Pretty

Ava’s voice cut through the air. “I’m not afraid of them.”

The icy determination in her tone sent a shiver down my spine, so eerily like Ty’s that it made my chest tighten.

I forced myself to look away, unable to bear the sight of how much of my brother had seeped into her—how deeply he’d shaped her, changed her.

And I hated it. Hated him. Hated that part of me feared she was better for it.

I reached into an open box and plucked out a gold signet ring. The weight of it settled heavily in my palm.

The crest of the Sochai, snakes in a Celtic knot, was etched into the gold like a brand. Memories surfaced—unwelcome and sharp.

I could see my father’s hand, that ring glinting on his finger as he raised it in anger. I could feel the sting of it, the hard edge cutting into my skin, leaving its mark on my cheek as clearly as it had left its imprint on my soul.

It wasn’t just a ring—it was a symbol of everything he’d been, everything I hated, and everything I swore I’d never become.

“Here!” Ty said, as he flipped open a page in the diary and began to read aloud.

“Tynan, my ever-studious son, will surely follow in my footsteps, a gifted chemist and a worthy heir to my work.

“But Ciaran… ah, Ciaran. There is a fire in him, a raw, untamed darkness that sometimes scares even me.

“Perhaps he will find his way to the highest place of all, wearing the mantle of the High Lord himself…

“One day, when they are ready, my boys will approach the High Lord with my signet ring and ask for entrance into this holy circle.

“As it was, as it has always been.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence.

Ty looked up, his expression unreadable, though his fingers tightened on the edges of the diary as if to steady himself.

But me? I couldn’t breathe. My father’s words hit like a punch to the gut, the air stolen from my lungs by the sheer audacity of his pride in me—pride twisted into something monstrous.

Darkness? That’s what he saw when he looked at me? Not a son, not a boy struggling to survive, but a vessel for his sick, twisted ambitions?

Ava let out a gasp. “Of course.”

I could already see the wheels turning in her head. But I refused to go down that train of thought.

The bile rose in my throat, and I flung the ring back into the box like it burned me.

“Fuck that,” I muttered, turning away. “I’m not wearing his fucking ring.”

“It’s not about the ring,” Ava said, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. “It’s about what it gets us. A way in.”

She pulled something from her bag, sliding it across thetable to me. “I stole it from Ebony’s mail when I ducked home to see her.”

I glanced down and saw the words Darkmoor Alumni Association Fundraising Gala printed across the glossy invitation.

“Two days,” Ava said, her smile dark, her eyes gleaming with determination. “The dean will be there. So will the rest of the Sochai members. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

My lips curled into a scowl. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack,” she said.

Ty lifted his eyebrows. “So, who wants to infiltrate a secret society?”

With a smirk that dared me to argue, Ava added, “We have to get you a suit.”

---