Page 163 of Claiming Pretty

AVA

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the couch beneath me, unfamiliar and wrong.

The cushion was too soft, the blanket draped over me carried Ty’s scent.

My chest tightened as the memories came rushing back—the house, his admission, the panties he’d drugged and shoved into my mouth as he fucked me.

The library which had before been aglow in a bath of hazy golden light was deadly still in a dusky purple.

“Ty,” I rasped, my throat dry, the name barely audible even to myself.

I sat up too fast, the room spinning as the blood rushed to my head. My heart pounded as I tried to steady myself, clutching the edge of the couch.

Déjà vu slammed through me as I glanced down and found myself wearing a silky crimson robe and knew he’d dressed me after I’d passed out.

I winced as I reached around to the sore spot on the back of my neck and froze when my fingers came away red.

My gaze was drawn to the small implant sitting on the side table, sticky with dried blood.

The finality of it slammed into me.

Then the last thing he said whispered in my brain—Farewell, my love.

“No.” My voice cracked as panic clawed its way up my throat. “No, no, no.”

I scrambled to my feet, calling his name louder now. “Ty? Where are you?”

The house was silent, too still, as though it was holding its breath. My eyes darted toward the staircase, then the front door, my chest heaving with the weight of unspoken dread.

Then, through the suffocating silence, I heard it—the crunch of gravel. My head snapped toward the sound.

The beam of headlights swept through a window like that of a lighthouse in a storm.

A car. My pulse stuttered. He was here. He’d come back.

“Ty!” I yelled, my voice cracking with desperation as I stumbled toward the front door.

My bare feet skidded across the hardwood, and I grabbed the frame for balance before fumbling with the handle and yanking the door open.

The cold air hit me like a slap as I hurried down the porch steps, the gravel drive biting into my soles.

The car pulled up, the headlights cutting through the shadows of the surrounding pines.

The driver’s door opened, and I froze, hope surging like a tidal wave.

“Ty?” I called, my voice trembling as I took a hesitant step forward.

But it wasn’t Ty who stumbled out of the car.

It was Ciaran.

A flood of emotions hit me all at once—relief, disappointment, elation, and fear. They tangled in my chest, paralyzing me for a beat until he took a shaky step forward and faltered, collapsing to one knee.

“Ciaran!” I yelled, the fear taking over as I sprinted toward him.

When I reached him, I grabbed his elbows to help him stand, but my hands came away slick and warm. My stomach turned as I stared at my palms, streaked with blood.

“God,” I whispered, horrified as my eyes lifted to his face.

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