Page 53 of Claiming Pretty

Ciaran frowned, leaning closer to the screen. His jawtightened, the hard lines of his face softening just slightly as he glanced at me.

“I can try,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “But don’t get your hopes up. The image is super pixilated.”

“Chances are,” Ty added, “even if we could get a name, he’s likely a Sochai henchman and knows nothing.”

“We have to try, though,” I said quietly, glancing back to the dark man on the screen. “We have no other leads.”

Ciaran let out a sharp yelp, startling me so much that I almost dropped my fork. Before I could ask, he bolted out of the living room and disappeared down the hallway into his bedroom.

“What the hell?” I muttered, glancing over at Ty.

For once, his usual unreadable mask was replaced with genuine confusion, his dark brows furrowing as he followed the sound of Ciaran rummaging around.

Ty shrugged.

Ciaran reappeared moments later, waving a manila folder in the air like a trophy. His chest was rising and falling like he’d run a mile, but the grin on his face was boyish, triumphant.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” he said, his voice tinged with exhilaration.

I frowned, a mix of curiosity and apprehension settling in my chest as I stared at the folder. “What is it?”

He threw it onto the low coffee table in front of me and gestured dramatically. “Go on. Open it.”

The buzz of anticipation in his voice was infectious, but it didn’t do much to settle the nerves twisting in my stomach. I set my food aside and flipped the folder open.

The world narrowed, the edges of my vision dimming as my focus locked on the papers inside.

My adoption papers.

The papers he’d stolen from me at the library.

The room felt too quiet as I scanned the documents, an unsteady feeling settling in my stomach.

Two sets of adoptions, one from when I’d been adopted by the Donahues and another from when Ebony had taken me in.

My eyes landed on two names that had haunted me in my dreams. My real parents.

Johnny and Molly Carey.

My vision blurred as tears welled up, the letters on the page smudging together. My chest ached, emotions crashing over me in a wave too powerful to fight. I barely had any memories of them, so it felt silly to cry over people I never really knew.

A hand touched my arm, warm and steady. Ty had shifted closer without me noticing, his face soft with concern.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost gentle, the way it had been back at Blackthorn.

“Get your handoffmy girlfriend,” Ciaran snapped, his icy glare directed straight at Ty.

The tension in the room thickened in an instant.

Ty didn’t flinch, didn’t even acknowledge the venom in Ciaran’s voice. He kept his gaze on me, his hand steady. “Settle down, asshole. This isn’t about you. Ava?”

I gently pulled my arm free, the movement deliberate, and I wiped the tears from my eyes. The last thing we needed was a full-on brawl in our living room.

“I’m grand,” I lied, the words shaky. “Just… I’m grand.”

I took a steadying breath and forced my attention back to the papers, ignoring the palpable animosity radiating between the two brothers.

But my focus quickly shifted as my eyes landed on something else. A name that was all too familiar.

---