Page 2 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

ZAIRE

I watch from the window of the office as Vesper disappears when the car pulls away. My chest feels like someone's wrapped barbed wire around it and keeps pulling tighter the farther away she gets from me.

“She'll be okay,” Oz says, but his voice lacks conviction. My twin knows better than to lie to me.

I turn back to the still warm body of her uncle in the desk chair. “No, she fucking won't. We just got her back. We’re going to lose her all over again.”

Oz doesn't argue with me. His blue eyes, mirrors of my own, flick toward the body and then back to me.

It has taken us both to get her this far.

Taking a life, it changes you on a cellular level.

Marks you in a way that redefines you. You either learn to live with the taint on your soul or you crumble.

“We’re not losing her again.”

“Keep saying that to yourself, Oz. She fucking collapsed after she killed the bastard. The stains from her tears are still on your shirt.”

“I know, Z. I was there. Now is not the time to argue. We need to clean this up before his guard or his staff show up.”

“We should have just—” My words cut off as the door swings open.

Alex kicks his way in, arms loaded with plastic sheeting, bleach, hydrochloric acid, and black garbage bags. His usual smirk is plastered on his face, like this is just another Tuesday for him.

“Found everything we need. They've got a whole closet dedicated to this shit downstairs. It’s giving me some ideas for the basement.

Murder Supply Closet has a nice ring to it.

" He dumps the supplies on the floor with a clatter that makes me wince.

“Makes you wonder how many bodies the Rossis have buried in their garden over the years, eh?” He grins, like we're discussing the weather and not standing in a room with the cooling corpse of Vesper's uncle.

I stare at him, jaw clenched so tight my teeth might crack. “Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

His smile falters. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“There's nothing light about this,” I snap, gesturing to Mario's corpse. “Vesper just killed her uncle, and we had to send her away. So excuse me if I don't find your gardening jokes fucking hilarious right now.”

Oz steps between us, always the mediator. “Z, he's just trying to help.”

“Then he can help without the commentary.” I snatch a roll of plastic from the pile.

Alex has the decency to look chastened as he pulls on latex gloves.

“Sorry, man. I know you're worried about her. We all are, but until we get Mario out of here, and cover our tracks, this takes priority. The sooner we clean up, the sooner you get back to her.” He pauses, looking over the scene in front of us. “Let’s get him bundled up. It’ll be easier if he isn’t bleeding all over the place. ”

“You’re the expert,” Oz remarks.

We work in tense silence, wrapping Mario's body in the blood-soaked rug from under his desk, and layers of plastic.

The bullet wounds have stopped actively bleeding, but dark crimson still seeps through his expensive suit.

All clean shots. I shouldn't feel proud of that, but some dark part of me does.

“What are we going to do with him? Talon took the SUV.”

“Already covered. Drag him out back. I’ll go pick something out for us,” Alex orders before slipping back outside the office door.

Oz and I exchange a look. It's not the first time we've had to dispose of a body, but there's something different about this one.

This is the man who sold Vesper to The Collector, who paid for her torment for years.

And now he's nothing but dead weight in plastic. He deserved so much worse than this for what he’s done.

“Let's move,” I say, grabbing the wrapped corpse under the arms. The smell of copper and death fills my nostrils as we lift him.

Oz takes the feet, and we shuffle awkwardly out the office door and down the ornate hallway. Every step feels like we're carrying Vesper's innocence further away from her. She'll never be the same after this. None of us will.

“You think she'll forgive us?” I ask as we maneuver through the doorway of what turns out to be the kitchen.

Oz grunts. “For what? Letting her pull the trigger or for cleaning up after?”

“For all of it. For bringing her into our world.”

My brother looks up at me over the plastic-wrapped bundle, something fierce and unshakable in his expression. “She was always in our world, Z. She’s just not prey anymore. She’s a predator like the rest of us.”

I spot the door at the rear of the kitchen, shifting us towards it.

The warm air hits us like a slap as we shoulder through the back door.

A small patio with neatly pruned hedges extends into a manicured lawn and expansive garden.

The same one Oz and I used to cover our tracks to sneak into Vesper’s bedroom years ago before her life went to shit.

“Where the fuck is Alex?” Oz mutters before a limo appears around the edge of the building and drives toward us. The limo's tinted windows gleam in the afternoon sun as Alex pulls it to a smooth stop just yards from where we're standing with Mario's body.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, staring at the sleek black vehicle. "A limo? Could you be any more conspicuous?"

Alex kills the engine and hops out, looking pleased with himself. “Relax. It's Mario's personal car. Everyone knows he uses it. No one will question it leaving the property.” He pops the trunk. “Plus, plenty of room for our cargo.”

“And when someone reports it missing?” Oz asks, shifting his grip on our burden.

“By then it'll be stripped and at the bottom of the harbor,” Alex replies, helping us maneuver the plastic-wrapped corpse into the spacious trunk. “Trust me, I've got a guy who specializes in making expensive cars disappear.”

I can't argue with his logic, but I still want to punch the smirk off his face. “You never leave your fucking room, Alex. How do you meet all these so-called people?” I ask.

“I told you. The dark web isn’t just a place to buy and sell kidneys. It’s a community of like-minded individuals. You should try it sometime. You might find someone who has tips about how to get that giant stick dislodged from your ass, Z.”

I lunge for Alex, but Oz catches my arm, jerking me back.

“Not now,” Oz hisses, his grip tightening. “We need to finish this.”

The rage pounds at the inside of my skull, but he's right. We're standing outside with a corpse in the trunk of a limo. Not the time for a pissing match.

“Let's finish cleaning inside.”

Back in the office, Alex dives into Mario’s laptop, scrubbing the security footage.

Oz sprays down every surface with bleach while I collect shell casings, wipe the counters, and eliminate any sign Vesper was ever here.

The sharp scent of blood mixes with the harsh bite of chemicals, burning the inside of my nose and throat.

“Found the security footage,” Alex calls from behind the desk, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Wiping the last forty-eight hours now. I'm replacing it with a loop from last week.” He looks up, his face tight with focus.

“The cameras will show Mario leaving in his limo, alone and very much alive.”

I nod and drop blood-soaked rags into a garbage bag. Every part of me wants to be with Vesper, not here cleaning up the aftermath of her first kill. The image of her—frozen, pale, completely shattered—won’t stop replaying in my head. That expression, that moment, is burned into me.

“Z, you're spacing out,” Oz says, nudging my shoulder. “Stay focused.”

“I am focused,” I snap, tying off the bag with more force than necessary. “I just want this done.”

Oz's expression softens fractionally. “I know. We all do.”

“How much longer on the tech shit, Alex?”

“Ten minutes tops,” he answers.

“Make sure you get everything,” Oz replies, scrubbing at a stubborn bloodstain on the expensive Persian rug. “We can't afford loose ends.”

I pocket the last shell casing and move to the doorframe, checking for any stray blood splatter.

"Almost done," Alex responds. "Hey, you guys should see this. Mario's got some interesting files on his computer. Looks like blackmail material on half the east coast families."

“Download it,” Oz says immediately. “Could be useful.”

“Already on it. There's something else too. Files on Vesper. A lot of them.”

My blood runs cold. “What kind of files?”

“Records of payments. Correspondence. Photos…” Alex trails off, and I know whatever he's seeing is bad.

“Save it all,” I bark, my fists clenching. “Every last fucking byte.”

“Z,” Oz warns, recognizing the edge in my voice.

“No. I want to know everything he did to her.”

“I don’t think you do, Z,” Alex declares.

I cross the room in three strides, looming over Alex's shoulder. The screen flickers with an image that makes my stomach turn. Vesper, younger, thinner, eyes vacant in ways that make me want to resurrect Mario just to kill him again. “I want names.”

“You'll have them,” Alex promises. “All of them.”

The room falls silent except for the clicking of keys as Alex copies the files. Even he seems subdued now, no jokes falling from his lips as he works. I step away, unable to look at the screen anymore without putting my fist through it.

“We're going to hunt every last one of them. Every person in these files.”

Oz doesn't argue. His expression has hardened into something I recognize—the cold, calculating look he gets when planning something lethal. “We will. But first, we finish this.”

Ten minutes later, the office is spotless.

No blood, no bullet holes, no evidence that Mario Rossi ever met his end here.

Alex pockets the flash drive with all the stolen data along with Mario's laptop and his phone, which we find on the desk, and we do one final sweep before heading out to the limo.

“I'll drive,” Alex says, jangling the keys.

“Like hell you will,” I growl, snatching the keys from his hand. “You're in the back, keeping an eye on our cargo.”

Alex opens his mouth to protest but catches Oz's warning glance and shrugs instead. “Fine. But if we get pulled over, I'm not the one explaining why we've got a corpse in the truck. That’s all on you, Z.”