Page 14 of Claiming Pretty

But then the bruises started again.

I had wanted him gone. Wanted the fear and bruises to end. Deep down, hadn’t I known what I was doing? Hadn’t I known that oleander wasn’t just for sleep? Had I reallymiscalculated… or had some part of me wanted it to happen?

That night at Mr. Buckley’s farmhouse still haunted me, but I felt no guilt killing the masked men who had come after me.

Self-defense felt… justified. They’d come for me, and I fought back.

I was a survivor. I did what I had to do that night to survive.

With the professor, it wasn’t the same, was it?

They were faceless men.

But the professor was a father to two boys, a complicated man who was tough but who loved his sons fiercely.

I had options, didn’t I? I could have gone to Ty. Told him everything. He would have listened, right?

The professor’s voice crept into my thoughts, cutting through my attempt to rationalize. His low, menacing tone echoed in my head, sending a shiver down my spine.

“My sweet, sweet girl, this is our little secret. Besides, even if you told anyone, no one would believe you.”

The memory tightened my chest, shame and fear swirling together in a nauseating cocktail. I’d been so sure back then that he was right. That if I tried to tell Ty, he wouldn’t believe me.

The professor washisfather, after all. A man Ty respected. Looked up to. Loved.

What if Ty turned on me? What if he sided with the professor and not me? What if telling him made everything worse?

I’d been on my own. No one to turn to, no one to trust.

But none of that erased the truth: the professor—Ty andCiaran’s father, their only other family—was dead.Because of me.

Was that why Ty kept me locked up? Had he been subconsciously punishing me? Had he actually never forgiven me even though he said he did?

Ciaran only told me he’d killed the professor because he’d been masquerading as Ty. But did he know? Could he forgive me?

Could I forgive myself?

And then there was the nagging voice in the back of my mind, cruel and insistent.He deserved it.

The man I’d poisoned wasn’t just a victim. He was a monster. He had hurt me, hurt others, twisted his power into something vile.

Didn’t I do the world a favor? Didn’t I save myself, save Ciaran, save countless others from his cruelty?

I shook my head, disgusted at the thought. That wasn’t justice. That was murder. It didn’t matter what he’d done. It didn’t change the fact that his life ended at my hands.What does that make me?

I glanced over at Ty, seeking something—stability, reassurance, maybe even distraction—but the moment our eyes met, my breath hitched.

He was already looking at me, his gaze steady and intense, even as he drove slowly down the quiet street. No cars. No people. Just the two of us.

The weight of his stare made my chest tighten. Before I could look away, his hand slid over mine.

His touch was warm, grounding, but it only made the chaos inside me worse. He opened his mouth, like he was gearing up to say something—something important.

I couldn’t handle it.

I tore my eyes away, yanking my hand out from under his.

The loss of contact was immediate, but I ignored the pang it brought, reaching for the radio and flicking it on in one jerky motion.

---