Chapter Text
The Rosewood air was heavy that night—thicker than secrets, quieter than lies.
Alison DiLaurentis stood on the front steps of the church, arms crossed tightly over her chest, trying to keep her breath steady. She wasn't the girl she used to be—not the manipulative queen bee who toyed with people's hearts like pawns in a game. At least, she didn't want to be. But staring into Lorenzo Calderon's eyes as he delivered his final words, Alison wondered if anyone would ever believe she'd changed.
"You used me, Alison." His voice was low, raw, laced with disappointment that cut deeper than anger ever could. "I should've seen it sooner. To you, I was just a badge. Just another way to get what you wanted."
The accusation stung. Not because it wasn't the kind of thing she might've done once—but because this time, she hadn't.
Alison opened her mouth, desperate to explain, but the words tangled in her throat. She'd never been good at vulnerability, never learned how to bare her soul without hiding behind a smirk or a lie. The door closed behind him before she could force anything out.
And just like that, he was gone.
Alison sank onto the cold steps, her composure breaking in the shadows where no one could see. For the first time in a long time, her heart ached for something real. She had loved him—not for the badge, not for what he could offer, but for the quiet safety he gave her, the belief that she could be better than her past. And now he thought she'd destroyed it.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the screen lighting up with Hanna's name. Then Spencer's. Then Emily's. Then Aria's.
They would ask where she was. They would ask what happened. They would see right through her walls like they always did.
Alison wiped her eyes, drew in a shaky breath, and whispered to herself:
"Don't let them know. Not yet."
But deep down, she already knew the truth. If anyone could help her fight for him, it was the girls who had fought for her a thousand times before.
Lorenzo hated the way her name tasted on his tongue that night—like betrayal, like disappointment.
"Alison." He kept his tone steady, but inside, his chest felt hollow. "You used me."
The words landed heavier than he expected. Her eyes widened, lips parting in shock. For a split second, he thought she might laugh it off, deny it with that razor-sharp wit she always carried like a weapon. But she didn't.
Her silence was worse.
"I thought you were different," he continued, forcing himself to hold her gaze. "But to you, I was just a badge."
The words hurt to say. God, they hurt. Because he wanted so badly to believe otherwise. But the emails—her questions about cases, her requests for details no civilian should know—they felt undeniable. And in Rosewood, you learned fast that trust was a luxury no one could afford.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
For a moment—just a moment—he saw something raw in her eyes, something that looked like fear, like heartbreak. But Lorenzo had been fooled before. And Alison DiLaurentis was nothing if not convincing.
So he walked away.
And with each step, something inside him cracked.