Page 43 of Claiming Pretty

“Ty wasn’t just protecting me,” she whispered.

“No.” I shook my head, the guilt clawing at my insides. “He wasn’t. He was protectingme, too.”

He’d takenmyplace in that hellhole. Without hesitation. Without a second thought.

“It should’ve been me,” I went on, the words spilling out of me now, unstoppable. “He shouldered what I did. What I should have been punished for. And I let him. I fucking let him.”

“You didn’t let him,” she said softly, her voice steady in a way I didn’t deserve. “Ty doesn’tletanyone do anything. You know that.”

I laughed bitterly because she was right.

Ty had always been like that—unyielding, immovable, the only constant in a world that had always felt like it was falling apart.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that I’d let him go to prisonfor something I’d done. That I’d let him carry a burden that was mine to bear.

Her hand moved to my face, her fingers brushing against my cheek. When I finally met her gaze, I saw strength there—quiet, fierce strength—and it made my chest ache.

“You did what you did to protect me,” she said, her voice so soft it felt like a balm against the rawness inside me. “And Ty did what he did to protect both of us. That doesn’t make you a monster, Ciaran. It makes you human.”

Her words should have lifted the weight on my chest, but they only made me feel it more acutely.

I leaned into her touch, closing my eyes and breathing her in, trying to anchor myself in her warmth.

“I’m so tired of secrets,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

“Then let’s not keep any more,” she said, her voice like a promise. “Not from each other. No matter what.”

I nodded, pressing my forehead against hers, her warmth seeping into me. For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t dared to believe in for so long.

Hope.

Ava let out a slow sigh, her gaze dropping to the space between us. “Then I need to tell you what happened at Blackthorn…”

My chest tightened, that fragile hope crushing under the weight of dread. “Okay…”

Her hands twisted in her lap, and she hesitated, visibly gathering the courage to speak.

“Ty… he took me through a kind of therapy.” Her voice was barely above a whisper when she finally spoke. “A… sexual form of therapy.”

Her words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, cuttingstraight through me, her admission reverberating in my head like the tolling of a funeral bell.

Asexualform of therapy.

My mind couldn’t wrap around the implication, couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“He touched you?” My voice came out low, sharp, dangerous. I searched her face for a denial, for anything that would contradict the images searing through my brain.

Her expression gave her away, a flicker of guilt, of shame. I didn’t need her to say it.

Ty had donemorethan just touch her.

The realization hit me like a fist to the chest. Fury surged, burning hot and uncontrollable, and before I knew it, I was off the bed, my body moving on pure instinct.

I didn’t care that I was barefoot, shirtless, just wearing my gray sweatpants.

I didn’t care about anything except hunting down Ty and making him pay.

Ava blocked my path. “Scáth, wait!”

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