Page 167 of Claiming Pretty

And when her foster father died and she was left to fend for herself, I saw it as a sign. I took her in. I saved her because it was the only way I could save myself.

And now, I had lost her.

She had been my last connection to my humanity. Physical proof that I was stillgoodunderneath.

See, another human cared for me, perhaps even loved me.

The ache grew heavier as I poured another drink. Theweight of it pressed on my chest, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

My hand shook as I gripped the glass, the fine crystal threatening to shatter under the pressure. I stared into the fire, willing it to burn away this unbearable grief.

“Hello, Mother.”

I froze, the glass slipping from my fingers and hitting the rug with a dull thud.

I turned toward the doorway, and there she stood.

Ava.

Her dark eyes, so achingly familiar, met mine with a cold fury that stopped my heart.

I blinked, certain the whiskey was playing tricks on me. Certain the grief had twisted itself into cruel hallucinations.

She looked so real.

Like all those times she came to lean against the intricate white molding with her schoolbag slung over one shoulder and a heel crossed over the other.

All those times I made her wait for my attention, my love.

I could feel those long seconds as I sat there, staring at the doorway, willing my cruel hallucination to stop haunting me.

But she didn’t vanish. She didn’t waver.

She stepped forward, the firelight catching her sharp cheekbones, her defiance carved into every inch of her face.

“Did you miss me?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

And just like that, the weight on my chest shifted. Triumph curdled into something darker, something I couldn’t yet name.

Ava had returned.

But she hadn’t come home.

“Stupid girl,” I hissed. “Now I have tokillyou.”

AVA

The firelight danced on the walls of the study, casting long shadows over Ebony’s figure slumped in her father’s leather chair, the faint tang of spilled liquor clinging to the air, mingling with the crackle of the hearth.

Her eyes lifted to meet mine as I stepped into the room, disbelief flickering across her face as though I’d walked out of her deepest guilt, a specter come to haunt her.

Then, like a mask snapping into place, the High Lord emerged, and her lips curled into a sneer.

“You stupid girl,” she spat, her voice sharp as glass. “Now I have tokillyou. I gave you twenty-four hours to leave.”

“I’m not leaving.” My voice was calm, controlled—a blade honed to perfection.

“You think I’m bluffing?” Her eyes narrowed, venom pooling in her voice. “I will kill you and everyone you love.”

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