Page 4 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

OSCAR

Sleep is a luxury I've never been able to afford, especially when it comes to protecting what's mine. I've been staring at Vesper's closed bedroom door, mapping every crack in the wood grain.

“You're going to burn a hole through the door if you keep glaring at it like that.”

I don't jump at Talon's voice behind me—a testament to my exhaustion rather than my composure. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils before I see the mug he's extending toward me.

“Thought you could use this,” he says, his voice subdued in the pre-dawn quiet. “It's been what…thirty-six hours since you last slept?”

I accept the steaming cup, letting its warmth seep into my palms. "Something like that.”

I take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid burn down my throat. It's not enough to chase away the bone-deep weariness, but it helps sharpen my focus. I move away from my position at her door and drop onto the worn leather couch in the living room, stretching my legs out on the coffee table.

Talon follows, settling beside me with his own mug. For a few moments, we just exist in the quiet, both watching the steam rise from our cups.

“How was she?” I finally ask, keeping my voice low. “In the car, after...” I don't finish the sentence. We both know what happened at the mansion.

Talon's jaw tightens, the muscles working beneath his skin. He's never been one to soften blows, and I brace myself.

“Fucking wrecked, Oz.” He sets his mug down with a dull thud. He runs his fingers through his hair, loosening the bun. “She thinks killing Mario means Luca is gone.”

My stomach clenches. I suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed makes it real in a way I wasn't prepared for.

“Mario deserved worse than what he got,” I say, the words coming out like gravel.

“I wish I killed him.”

“I think we all do, Oz,” Talon admits. “Anyone but her.”

I take another sip of coffee, but it tastes like ash now. “She shouldn't have had to pull that trigger,” I mutter, setting my mug down with more force than necessary.

Talon leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You know she wouldn't have let us take that from her. Not when it involved Luca.”

He's right, and that knowledge burns worse than the coffee.

“We need to find Luca,” I say instead.

“Please tell me Alex found something at the mansion.”

“Mario had files on Vesper.” I pause, my voice dropping lower. “There are…photos and videos.”

Talon's head snaps up, expression sharpening. “What kind?”

“The kind that's going to make my brother even more insufferable and protective than he already is,” I say, rubbing at the stubble on my jaw. “I didn't look at them myself. But Zaire did.”

“Fuck,” Talon mutters, leaning back against the couch. “That bad?”

“Bad enough that Zaire wanted to resurrect Mario just to kill him again.” I lean back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Alex had the same reaction.”

Talon sets his mug down carefully. I recognize the controlled movement.

It’s what he does when he's fighting the urge to break something. While things seem settled between Z, Vesper, and I, Talon’s place in her bed is unclear.

He cares for Vesper, that’s plain enough to see, but he’s still figuring things out.

“You think there’s something in those photos that could lead us to Luca?” Talon asks, his voice deceptively casual—but the way his fingers tighten on his knee betrays him.

I shake my head. “Alex is combing through everything. If there's a connection, he'll find it.”

“Why don’t you go get some sleep? I can take over watching her door.”

My eyebrow raises.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Good thing I stocked up on coffee.”

A soft click draws both our attentions to Vesper's bedroom door as it opens.

Zaire emerges from Vesper's room instead of her, his clothes wrinkled like he'd slept in them. The tension radiating from him is palpable.

I straighten instinctively. My twin has always been more volatile than the rest of us, but there's something in his expression now that puts me on edge.

Without a word, he stalks over to where we're sitting, reaches down and grabs Talon's untouched mug. He tips his head back and downs the entire thing in several long gulps.

“Jesus, Z,” Talon says, watching his coffee disappear. “There's a fresh pot in the kitchen. You didn't have to take mine.”

My brother sets the empty mug down with a clink and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Needed it more than you did.”

I study him carefully. “How is she?”

“Sleeping. Finally.” Zaire runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

The unspoken hangs between us—what happened in that room, what comfort did my brother provide that I couldn't. It shouldn't bother me, not when we've already established where we he and I stand with each other, but something primal and possessive twinges in my chest. I push it down, focusing on what matters.

“Did she say anything?”

Zaire drops heavily into the armchair across from us, his body folding into itself, “Nothing we don't already know. She's convinced we won’t be able to find Luca and that it’s all her fault.”

“But we don't know that,” Talon interjects, leaning forward. “The Collector isn’t going to kill him. He’s too valuable.”

“Try telling her that.” Zaire's laugh is hollow, empty of any real humor. “She just kept saying the same thing over and over.”

“She kept cycling between being convinced he's dead and certain he's alive.” His voice catches. “She begged me to promise we'd find him.”

"And?” Talon prompts.

“What the fuck do you think?” Zaire snaps, then immediately closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Sorry. I promised her we wouldn't stop looking until we found him—dead or alive. Has Alex found anything?”

“He hasn’t emerged yet from his lair. The music is still going so he’s working,” I offer.

Alex and music go hand in hand. We can normally tell his mood by what he’s playing. Metal when he’s concentrating. Classical music when he’s in the basement doing his serial killer shit. Pop for some reason when he’s drunk. To be honest, he’s a revolving door of musical tastes.

“Oz told me about the photos,” Talon adds.

"Don't." Zaire's voice cuts like a blade. "Not now.”

Talon shifts beside me. “If there's something in those photos that could help us find Luca?—”

“You think I don't know that?” Zaire hisses.

“We're all trying to help her,” I say, attempting to soothe the tension crackling between them. “We're all on the same side here.”

“I know that, Oz. But, the last thing I want to do is drag her back down into the depths when we just got her head above water. Those fucking photos will take her back there. I’m not willing to risk losing her again. If either of you care about her, you wouldn’t want that either.”

“That's not fair,” Talon snaps. “You don't have a monopoly on caring about her.”

“She’s blown you once, to my knowledge. Vesper having your cock in her mouth does not give you some moronic claim to know what’s best for her.”

“And just because you’ve fucked her doesn’t mean you do either.”

I stand before this can escalate further. “Both of you, stop. This isn't helping Vesper or Luca.”

“We all fucking care about her. Don’t turn this into a pissing match.

Her choice, remember, Z?” My brother glowers at my use of his own words against him from when I am struggling with the idea of sharing her with him.

He’d been right, of course. It is her choice.

Vesper needs my brother, and I, Talon, too, it seems. Who am I to deny her happiness?

With the three of us, she’ll always be protected, and I can live with that even if I have to share her.

“You two done?”

"Hardly,” Zaire mutters, but the fight drains from his posture. He slumps back in the chair, defeated in a way I've rarely seen him. “I can’t lose her again.”

Talon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “None of us wants that. But we need to find Luca, and if those photos hold even a clue?—”

“I know.” Zaire's voice is hollow. “I fucking know.”

“We need to be smart about this,” I continue, pacing the small living room. “The Collector has Luca. We know that much. What we don't know is where he's keeping him, or what he plans to do with him.”

“What about Ricky?” Z asks. “He knew about the auction. Maybe he knows more.”

“He’s a start,” I admit. “But it’s going to take more than a low life thug to get us to The Collector’s doorstep.”

“If we push him hard enough—” Talon starts, but the sound of a door opening cuts him off.

Alex steps from his room. All heads turn toward him.

“Please tell me you found something,” I say, not bothering to hide the desperation in my voice.

He looks exhausted, dark circles smudging the skin beneath tired features, his usually meticulous appearance disheveled. He’s been working nonstop since we got back. Running a hand through his hair, he nods slowly.

Zaire straightens immediately, every muscle in his frame coiled tight. “What is it?”

“The transactions I found in the file on Mario’s computer were payments made to that fucking clinic.”

A heavy silence crashes down on the room.

“The clinic?” I repeat the words like acid on my tongue. “The one where they?—”

“Yes,” Alex cuts me off sharply, shooting a glance toward Vesper’s door. “That one.”

Talon leans forward. “Mario was storing her eggs there. Monthly storage payments would make sense.”

“This is about something else,” Alex states. "These are transaction logs for harvesting procedures. And they're recent—within the last month.”

“Shit, you don’t think?”

My blood turns to ice in my veins.

“They're harvesting from Luca?” The words taste like poison on my tongue. “Taking his…”

“Sperm,” Alex finishes, his clinical tone doing nothing to soften the horror. "Based on these payment records, they've been doing it systematically. The Collector…he's farming him.”