Page 26 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

VESPER

The timer on Alex's laptop counts down ruthlessly, each second tightening the coil of tension in my chest. Auction begins in four minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

We're gathered in his room, the glow of multiple screens casting an eerie light across our faces.

Alex sits at the helm, fingers flying over keys as he patches the final layers of security into place. The rest of us crowd around him.

“Your room is so…boring,” Talon remarks.

“And that’s why I don’t let any of you in here,” Alex mutters under his breath.

“Except for Vesper,” Talon fires back at him. A rosy flush blooms on my cheeks at his observation. If the others only knew where I was a few days ago, perched on my knees under this very desk.

“Four minutes,” Z mutters, pacing the limited space like a caged animal. His agitation is palpable. “Our connection better hold.”

“It will,” Alex says tersely, his focus absolute. “This should be the easy part.”

“Should be,” Oscar echoes, resting against the edge of the desk. He crosses his arms, his attention fixed intently on Alex's screens. “We can't afford any surprises.”

“One way or another, we're getting your brother back.” Alex promises, glancing at me briefly before returning to the screens.

“Three minutes,” Talon announces, pushing off from the wall to move closer. “Run me through it one more time.”

Alex sighs but complies. “We enter through the secure tunnel I've created. Our identity will show as Charles Blackwood—Talon's auction alias. We'll be bidding on Lot 27, the 'rare male specimen.' Once we secure the winning bid, I'll initiate the payment protocol with the embedded virus.”

“And if the virus doesn't take?” Oscar asks, his voice carefully neutral.

“Then we track the sample pickup,” Z finishes, stopping his pacing to stand beside me. His presence is warm, solid. “We follow the trail physically.”

“Exactly,” Alex nods, typing a final string of code before leaning back. “Both approaches should lead us to the location.'“

The clinical way he says it makes my stomach turn, but I understand the necessity. We have to think of this as a mission, not let our emotions overwhelm us. Not yet.

“Two minutes.”

Oscar's fingers interlace with mine in silent support. His thumb traces small circles on my palm, a gesture so subtle yet so comforting that I find myself leaning into his touch.

“One minute,” Talon announces.

The air in the room feels electric, charged with anticipation. I struggle to control my breathing. This could be it—the moment that changes everything, that leads us to Luca. Or it could be another dead end, another cruel joke from The Collector.

“Thirty seconds,” Alex mutters, his fingers poised over the keyboard. “Everyone stays quiet once we're in. No sudden movements, no distractions.”

I'm surrounded by them now. Oscar holding my hand, Z at my shoulder, Talon hovering nearby, Alex leading us into the digital battle. Four men who have become my lifeline, my protection, my...everything.

“Ten seconds.”

My heart pounds so loudly I'm certain everyone can hear it. The countdown reaches zero, and Alex hits enter with a deafening click.

The screen flickers, then resolves into an elegant black interface with gold trim. A stylized logo pulses at the center—two intertwined serpents forming an infinity symbol. The Collector's mark.

"We're in," Alex breathes.

A welcome message scrolls across the top: “Mr. Blackwood, we're pleased to have you join us again.”

“They recognize the alias,” Talon comments.

Alex nods. “That's good. Means we're properly authenticated.”

A list of available lots appears on the left side of the screen, each with a brief description and starting bid. I scan frantically until I find Lot 27.

“There,” I declare.

The starting bid makes my stomach drop. Five million dollars for my brother's...I can't even finish the thought without feeling ill.

“Focus,” Alex commands, clicking on the lot to bring up more details. A timer appears, showing the auction for this specific item begins in three minutes. “We need to be strategic here. Bid too aggressively, we'll attract attention. Too conservative, we lose him.”

“Can we afford it?”

Oscar's thumb continues its soothing circles on my palm. “Yes,” he says simply. “Whatever it takes.”

A chat window pops up in the corner of the screen, a message appearing in elegant script.

Welcome, valued patrons. Today's offerings are particularly exceptional. We hope you find what you're seeking.

The clinical politeness makes bile rise in my throat. These people are selling my brother. I swallow hard, fighting to maintain my composure.

“How many other bidders?” Z asks, his voice tight with controlled rage.

Alex navigates through the interface, pulling up a participant list. “Twenty-three active connections, including us.”

“Twenty-three people willing to pay millions for...” Oscar doesn't finish, his jaw clenching.

“Considering what you paid for me…” I trail off.

“One minute until our lot opens,” Talon announces.

My heart hammers against my ribs as Alex positions the cursor over the bidding field, ready to submit our first offer. The screen refreshes, and Lot 27 is active, the description expanded to include more details.

Male specimen, 23 years old, exceptional bloodline, untouched condition. Genetic testing confirms superior traits. Sample viability guaranteed for 24 months under proper storage conditions.

A small icon pulsates next to the description—a video preview. Alex hovers over it, looking to me for permission.

“Do it.”

He clicks, and a brief clip begins to play—clinical footage of a lab technician holding up a vial to the light, examining its contents. The camera pans to show a small label on the container, bearing a barcode and an identification number: LR-0723.

LR. Luca Rossi.

My knees nearly buckle. Z's grip on my shoulders tightens, keeping me upright as a strangled sound escapes my throat.

“It's him,” I breathe, staring at the screen. “It's really him.”

The bidding begins immediately, numbers climbing rapidly as invisible competitors stake their claims. Five million quickly becomes six, then seven. Alex enters our first bid, eight million, his expression impassive as he watches the counter tick upward.

"They're going higher than anticipated," Oscar observes.

The numbers continue to climb, nine million, ten, eleven.

Each increase feels like a physical blow.

Not because of the money. I know the men surrounding me have access to funds I can barely comprehend, but because of what it represents.

My brother's life, his future, reduced to a digital auction block.

“Twelve million,” Alex announces as he enters our next bid, his voice eerily calm despite the tension radiating from his body.

A notification pops up on screen. Three active bidders remain.

“We're getting close,” Talon says. I'm surrounded by them now, their presence forming a protective barrier between me and the horror unfolding on screen.

The counter jumps to thirteen million, then fourteen. Alex responds with fifteen.

A message appears in the chat. Final call for bids on Lot 27.

Alex's fingers hover over the keyboard. Sixteen million , he types, the number appearing instantly.

The interface falls silent for three agonizing seconds before a notification flashes. Lot 27 secured. Congratulations, Mr. Blackwood.

“We got it,” I breathe, relief washing through me like a physical blow. My legs tremble as the tension that's been holding me upright suddenly releases.

“Now for phase two,” Alex mutters, his focus unwavering as he navigates to the payment portal. His fingers fly across the keyboard, initiating the transfer while simultaneously activating the virus embedded within the code.

“Is it working?” Talon asks, leaning closer to the screen.

Alex doesn't answer immediately. “Payment processing...virus deploying...come on, you bastard, take the bait...”

The screen flickers, numbers and symbols racing across it faster than I can follow. Alex's expression shifts from concentration to triumph as a small notification appears in the corner. Access granted .

“I'm in,” he announces.

"What are you seeing?"

"Everything," Alex breathes, opening multiple windows on his secondary monitors. "Server architecture, transactions for all of the lots in this auction?—"

The screens suddenly go black. All of them.

“What the fuck?” Alex slams his palm against the desk. “No, no, no!”

The monitors flicker back to life, but the data is gone. Empty windows stare back at us, the server connection severed. Where moments ago there had been a wealth of information, our key to finding Luca, now there's nothing but a blank screen.

“What happened?” I demand, panic clawing up my throat.

Alex's fingers fly across the keyboard, his expression morphing from triumph to horror. “It’s some kind of automated purge protocol." He pulls up command lines, typing furiously. “As soon as the payment cleared, everything wiped itself from their servers.”

“Can you recover it?” Oscar asks, his voice tight.

“I'm trying,” Alex snaps, hunched over his keyboard like a man possessed. “But it's not just hidden or encrypted. It's gone. Completely scrubbed.”

Z's grip on my shoulder tightens to the point of pain. “You said this wouldn't happen.

“It shouldn't have,” Alex snaps back, not looking up from his desperate attempt to salvage something—anything—from the digital ashes. “This level of security is...fuck, it's better than military grade.”

My stomach plummets as the reality sinks in. We've spent sixteen million dollars and have nothing to show for it. Alex’s virus was our way into their systems. The safest way to find Luca, and it’s gone in a matter of seconds.

“We still have the sample,” Talon says firmly, breaking the heavy silence. “Plan B is still in play.”

I nod mechanically, trying to cling to even the smallest thread of hope. “When do we get instructions for pickup?”