13. Ava
AVA
“ R elax, hummingbird,” Ty murmured, his voice low and teasing as we reached the front steps of the Hallowstone agency. His arm slung possessively around my shoulders, making me shiver. “You’re supposed to look like you love me.”
The problem was, I wasn’t sure I was faking it.
Ciaran hadn’t wanted me to do this.
Neither had I.
But we didn’t have any other choice. Ciaran was the only one who could hack into the files, and someone had to distract the director so he could get into her office.
That someone was me and Ty, pretending to be a happy, hopeful couple looking to adopt.
The Hallowstone agency loomed before us, a relic of Victorian grandeur, its facade imposing, constructed of dark stone that seemed to absorb the weak sunlight filtering through the overcast sky. Ivy crept along the weathered brick, its tendrils clawing at the tall, arched windows framed by black wrought-iron grilles .
A steep, gabled roof crowned the building, its slate shingles faded and cracked with age. A pair of stone gargoyles perched at either side of the entrance, their grotesque faces twisted in eternal sneers as if daring us to step closer.
Ty helped me up the creaky steps to the porch, framed by ornate, gothic columns, their intricate carvings depicting thorny roses and skeletal branches that twisted together like a macabre tapestry.
The brass doorbell gleamed against the agency’s dark, weathered door, a sharp contrast to the gothic decay around it.
I reached for it, but Ty’s hand darted out, gently gripping my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.
“Hold on,” he said softly, his tone unusually tentative.
I frowned, my hand hovering midair. “What is it?”
Ty slipped his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
My breath hitched, my pulse racing as the weight of the moment sank in.
“Almost forgot this,” he murmured, flicking it open with a smooth, practiced motion.
Inside was an antique engagement ring, the kind of thing that seemed too perfect to exist outside of dreams.
A massive marquise-cut diamond gleamed in the faint light, surrounded by delicate clusters of smaller stones that caught every hint of sunlight.
It was stunning. Unique and timeless. Exactly what I would have picked out for myself.
My throat tightened, and when I tried to speak, only a string of stammered sounds came out.
Ty chuckled, a rare sound that sent an unwelcome warmth curling through me. He plucked the ring from its velvet nest.
His usual stoic mask was gone, replaced with something achingly raw. His cheeks flushed pink, and his lips curled in a smile so tender it felt like a punch to my chest.
I hadn’t even realized I’d lifted my hand until I felt the cool weight of the ring sliding over my finger. I tilted my hand, the diamond catching the dull afternoon light, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
For a fleeting moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to have a normal life. To be a woman who said yes to an uncomplicated proposal from an uncomplicated man. Who cried with joy and never from the memories of her buried darkness. Who imagined a simple forever with someone who didn’t carry a soul full of scars.
My fingers pressed to my lips as I whispered, “It’s beautiful.”
“You deserve nothing less,” Ty replied, his voice low, his words reverent.
I tore my gaze from the ring and looked up at him, but the lightness of his earlier smile had vanished, replaced with that intensity I could never escape.
My breath faltered under his stare, and I searched for something—anything—to break the spell.
“It looks real,” I blurted out.
“It is,” he said simply.
I blinked, thrown. “You stole someone’s ring?”
His laugh was quiet, almost indulgent. “I bought it.”
“When?” I demanded, incredulous. “When exactly did you have time to go ring shopping since last night when we made our plans? ”
He took my hands in his, his fingers warm and steady against my trembling ones.
“Ava,” he began softly, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I bought it years ago.”
The air seemed to still around us, and my heart tripped over itself. “What?”
Ty’s thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over the back of my hand.
“For you,” he said, his words weighted with emotion. “I bought it for you.”
My knees threatened to give out, but his grip kept me tethered.
“For me?” I whispered, the question barely audible.
He nodded, his jaw tightening like he was trying to hold himself together.
“Before I went to jail,” he admitted, shrugging like it was nothing.
But it wasn’t nothing.
It was everything.
My heart swelled, caught somewhere between aching and breaking. The memories hit me like a tidal wave—of him chasing me through rose gardens at Blackthorn Hall, of laughter and stolen glances.
All that time, he’d been carrying this secret. Carrying this ring.
He’d never seen me as just a friend.
I’d always been his .
The overwhelming wave of emotion swept me forward before I could think. Rising on my tiptoes, my lips searched for his. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t stop to consider the consequences .
But before our lips could meet, before I could fall into oblivion, before I could choose between damnation and redemption, the door opened beside us.
I rocked back onto my kitten heels and Ty cleared his throat.
A woman in a well-fitted pencil skirt tapped a pack of cigarettes into her palm before noticing us. “Oh. Excuse me.”
She checked her wristwatch.
She had clearly been hoping to slip in a smoke break that we ruined.
She gave us a smile and held open the door for us.
“You must be Mr. Donahue,” she said to Ty.
He inclined his head in assent and then gestured to me.
“May I introduce Mrs. Donahue,” he said, interlocking his hand into the one on which I wore his ring. “My wife .”
I should have hated the way my heart trilled.
My wife.
It should have felt wrong—unnatural, a lie we’d crafted to infiltrate this place.
But the truth was, I didn’t hate it. Not even a little.
“…and finally, this is where we host our monthly family engagement events,” the director said, her smile practiced but proud as she led us into a small ballroom that reminded me of the one in Blackthorn with its soaring ceilings adorned in intricate plasterwork and a massive crystal chandelier casting shimmering light over the polished parquet floors .
I nodded along, doing my best to appear like the devoted wife I was pretending to be.
This isn’t real.
I told myself over and over.
But the words felt hollow, empty, as Ty’s fingers, firm on the small of my back, sent waves of heat through me that were anything but pretend.
“Can you imagine, my love,” Ty said as he pulled me closer, his arm wrapping snugly around my waist. “Us here, dancing, with our little girl or boy clinging to your dress.”
My heart clenched, a sharp, unexpected pain slicing through me as the fantasy took root before I could stop it. I saw it so clearly—the grandeur of the ballroom alive with music, a child’s laughter echoing as little hands clung to the hem of my dress.
It was a perfect, impossible dream, one that didn’t belong to me. Not with Ty.
I shoved it away, hard, burying it before it could sink its claws in too deeply.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
I tried to laugh it off, forcing a smile even as the ache in my chest lingered like a stubborn bruise.
But Ty’s firm muscular body, flush against mine, burned through the fabric of my dress, his touch maddeningly possessive as he stared down at me.
I felt the weight of his gaze, heavy and unrelenting, and I knew exactly what he intended. The line he meant to cross. The line he— we —both swore to Ciaran we wouldn’t.
“Just… promise me you won’t kiss her.”
But God help me, I didn’t move. I couldn’t .
My breath caught as Ty leaned in, his lips brushing softly against mine.
I tore my lips away, guilt churning in my stomach, hot and suffocating.
I was betraying Scáth. I was betraying him by feeling this much. By letting my heart stutter every time Ty whispered “my wife” or brushed his lips against mine with a tenderness that didn’t feel fake.
I hated that part of me wanted to believe it. That part of me didn’t want to stop pretending.
And maybe that was the worst of it—knowing that deep down, I wasn’t sure if I could even call this pretending anymore. Not when Ty looked at me like that. Like I was his whole world. Like I’d always been his.
“This must be such an emotional journey for the two of you,” the director said, her tone empathetic. “Finding the right fit, building your family…”
“Our road has been challenging and painful,” Ty said, his voice carrying a weight that went beyond the ruse. “And for a while, I thought she was going to choose someone else… But I vowed to her I wouldn’t stop until she realized she was mine .”
I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering against my ribs.
The director made a soft, approving sound, clearly charmed by Ty’s devotion.
This wasn’t just a game to him. And that scared me more than I cared to admit.
I had to put a stop to this. I had to remind him that I wasn’t his and never would be.
I forced myself to meet Ty’s gaze even though it felt like stepping into a fire. I reached out to rest my hand lightly on his arm, the gesture warm and affectionate—perfect for the ruse.
“True, it hasn’t been easy,” I said, my voice steady but laced with a pointed edge meant for him alone. “But I’ve always believed in staying true to my promises. To my heart. Even if it lies in the shadows .”
If Ty felt threatened by my words, he didn’t show it. The resolute stubbornness remained on his face.
“Promises are funny things, aren’t they?” he said, his tone smooth but layered with meaning, his gaze never leaving mine. “Sometimes we make them to feel safe. Because we think they’re right.”
His hand brushed against mine, casual to an onlooker, but deliberate enough that I felt the heat of his touch like a brand.
“It’s always been easy for you to hide from yourself, hummingbird. But I’ll always lead you back to the truth. No matter how painful it is.”
My breath hitched, the double meaning in his words slicing through the careful resolve I was trying to maintain.
The director might have thought we were speaking about family, about our fake courtship, but Ty’s intensity told me exactly what he meant: I was lying to myself. About him. About us. And he wouldn’t let me run from it.
The director cleared her throat and fanned herself. “My goodness, you two. It’s clear how intensely you feel for each other.”
I forced a laugh, swallowing the knot in my throat as I took a small step to the side.
Ty didn’t let me go far. His fingers trailed down my back before settling on the small of it, a reminder that he was still in control of this performance.
Even though it wasn’t really just a performance for him.
My heart pounded as I avoided his gaze, my eyes darting to the clock on the wall.
Ciaran had to be almost finished. He had to be.
Ty’s boldness was spiraling, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep ignoring how it affected me.
The director held out her hand to escort us out. “There will be plenty more time for any other questions you may have.”
Ty held out his hand for me and I took it.
Before I could stop myself, I imagined that we lived in a different life. We would go out to lunch in the city. He would buy an expensive bottle of champagne to toast the start of our journey toward adopting a baby.
Our baby.
As we climbed into bed that night, the only thing on our minds would be what to call her. Or him. We’d shed a tear because we both were thinking Mona for a girl, after his mother.
A sadness settled in my stomach, because I knew it was not a life made for me.
Not with my past.
Not with the Sochai still out there taking girls, using girls.
Not with a good man’s heart in my hands.
I walked with Ty out into the hallway, my head spinning.
The director thanked us warmly, her smile practiced and full of hope as she wished us luck on our “journey to parenthood. ”
But I couldn’t summon even the pretense of a smile because my attention had been snagged elsewhere.
At the end of the hallway, a figure was retreating from the door of the director’s office, moving too quietly, too deliberately. The black hood masked most of his face, but not enough to hide the flash of icy-blue eyes that burned with a familiar madness as they glared at where Ty held my hand.
Ciaran.
My stomach plummeted, fear gripping me like a vise.
Ty was still shaking the director’s hand, his polite mask firmly in place, but the moment she turned toward her office, everything would fall apart.
She would see Ciaran. And then what? She’d scream. Call the police.
Perhaps even the Sochai. We’d all be caught.
I moved before my thoughts caught up, desperation guiding me.
“Oh, Ty,” I said. “I think we’ve found our perfect agency!”
Ty barely had time to react as I flung myself into his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck and pulling his lips down to meet mine.
At first his mouth was stiff, unyielding against mine. He froze, likely shocked at my sudden initiative—and maybe even at the blatant betrayal of the promise I had made to his brother.
But then he melted into me, his arms tightening around my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.
His tongue swept across my bottom lip, coaxing a gasp from me, and I let him in, the taste of him overwhelming me, consuming me. The kiss deepened with a heat and intensity that stole the breath from my lungs.
A shiver of guilt rippled through me as somewhere in the back of my mind, alarms blared that Ciaran was watching, screaming that this was wrong.
That I wasn’t Ty’s. That I didn’t belong to him.
But the kiss didn’t feel wrong. It felt like fire. Like home. Like everything I’d tried so hard to suppress, clawing its way to the surface with an undeniable ferocity.
My heart swelled to the point of bursting, as though a dam deep within me had finally shattered, unleashing a flood of emotions I’d fought desperately to keep at bay. Like the buried memories I’d tried so hard to forget, they surged to the surface, refusing to be silenced.
There was no more denying it and there was no more wanting to deny it.
I still loved Ciaran. I always would.
But I had fallen for Ty, too.