Page 40 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

OSCAR

Three days of watching Vesper unravel at Talon’s hospital bedside, and all I can think is that we're losing her faster than she lost Alex. Then we all lost Alex. Z has kept them both safe while I plan our next move. With Alex gone, our backdoor into tracking The Collector went with him. I have no idea how deep his trap was set. We can’t risk going back to our place in Boston.

Our only choice is one of our safe houses until I know how much The Collector knows.

Vesper sits quietly in Talon’s now empty hospital room.

“The car's packed. We need to move.” I keep my voice steady as I zip up the duffel bag of supplies for Talon’s wounds that I nicked from a storage room.

She hasn't slept more than two hours at a time since Talon told her what happened.

Her skin has taken on an alarming pallor that makes my chest ache every time I look at her.

“Solnishko, we need to go.”

She blinks slowly. “What?”

“The safe house,” I remind her, trying to keep the worry from my voice. “Remember? We talked about this.”

She nods mechanically, but I can tell the information isn't really registering. This vacant shell of Vesper terrifies me more than her tears or rage ever could. At least anger would be something to work with—something alive and burning.

“Where's Talon?” she asks, the first unprompted question she's offered all day.

“Z's helping him into the car.” Her eyes drift toward the door, then back to me, that unsettling vacancy still present. “What about Alex?”

My heart constricts painfully. She's asked this same question a dozen times since it happened. Each time, the answer destroys her anew, as if she's hearing it for the first time.

“Solnishko...” I begin, the endearment catching in my throat.

“No,” she interrupts. “Don't say it again. I know. I know.” She presses her fingertips against her temples. “He's gone. I just...keep forgetting. Or hoping I dreamed it.”

I rise, pulling her gently to her feet. Her body follows mine without resistance.

“The Coast Guard is still searching,” I tell her, though we both know what they're searching for now. Not a survivor, but remains. “Lieutenant Wilson promised to call if they find anything.”

Vesper nods again, that mechanical motion that's become her default response.

We make our way down the hospital corridor in silence, her steps faltering occasionally.

The doctors wanted to admit her for exhaustion, but we couldn't risk staying any longer.

Not with The Collector's people potentially tracking us.

Outside, Z has the car idling near the entrance, Talon slumped in the back seat, pale but alert. He's still weak, his left arm in a sling, but the doctors cleared him for discharge as long as he follows the strict wound care instructions.

“How is she?” he mouths to me over Vesper's head.

I give a slight shake of my head. No change.

Z exits the driver's side, moving to help me settle Vesper into the back seat beside Talon.

She goes without protest, her body collapsing against the leather.

Talon immediately draws her against his side with his good arm.

She curls into him with a small, broken sound that tears at something vital inside me.

“I've got you, princess. I've got you.”

Z’s stare catches my own. We've seen Vesper hurt, angry, terrified, but never filled with this hollow emptiness that seems to be consuming her from within.

“How long to the safe house?” I ask as we slide into the front seats.

“Three hours if we take the coastal route,” Z replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. “Two and a half if we cut inland.”

“Coastal,” I decide. “Less surveillance, fewer potential recognition points.”

Z nods, adjusting our course. The hum of tires against asphalt fills the silence as we leave Newport behind. My eyes flicker to the rearview mirror every few minutes, tracking Vesper's reflection. She's curled against Talon, her face pressed into his neck.

“Any trace on Alex's backdoor protocols?” Z asks quietly, his voice pitched low enough that the two in the backseat can't hear.

I shake my head. “Nothing. Whatever he built, it died with him.” The words taste bitter on my tongue. “He was the only one with all of the access codes.”

“Fuck. So we're flying blind.”

“Not completely blind,” I counter, pulling out my phone to check for the hundredth time if there's any update from my contacts. “But our vision is severely limited. Alex was ten steps ahead of everyone. We're lucky if we're one step ahead now.”

The coastal highway stretches before us, the Atlantic a somber gray-blue to our right. Every mile takes us further from the place we lost Alex, but the distance does nothing to ease the hollow ache in my chest.

“We should have found a way to go with them. Both of us. We could have provided backup, kept them safe.”

“Don't,” I warn, the single word sharp enough to cut. “We can't do this to ourselves.”

In the rearview mirror, I see Talon shift in his seat, wincing as the movement jostles his injured shoulder.

Vesper immediately places her hand on his chest, a reflexive gesture of comfort despite her own devastation.

Even broken, she's still trying to hold us together.

The sight makes something inside me crack.

“What's our next move after the safe house?”

“We regroup. Recover.” I glance back at Talon and Vesper. “Then we find another way to locate Luca.”

“Without Alex's tech…”

“We'll manage,” I interrupt, not wanting to hear the doubt spoken aloud. “We have other resources.”

The miles blur beneath our tires, each one taking us further from Newport and closer to the remote coastal property that will shelter us for the coming days. In the backseat, Vesper has finally drifted into an uneasy sleep, her head resting on Talon's good shoulder.

“Do you think he knew?”

“Knew what?”

“Knew what we'd become without him,” Z clarifies. “How fragile this whole thing was.”

I consider my brother’s words, watching the road unfold ahead like a shadowed ribbon. The truth is, Alex had been our foundation in ways none of us fully appreciated—the quiet center around which we all orbited.

“Alex knew everything. That was his curse.”

Z nods once, a sharp downward jerk of his chin. “And now it’s ours.”

The safe house appears ahead—a weathered Cape Cod-style home nestled against a rocky outcropping, hidden from the main road by a thick stand of pines.

Z navigates the unmarked gravel drive with ease, killing the headlights as we approach.

Security measures have become second nature, paranoia our constant companion.

“We’re here,” I announce softly, turning to find Talon awake despite the pain medication. Vesper remains asleep against him, breathing shallow but steady.

“Should we wake her?” Talon asks, his voice roughened by exhaustion.

“No,” Z and I answer in unison. Let her have these moments of oblivion.

Z parks behind the house, positioning the car for a quick exit if needed. “I’ll clear the perimeter,” he says, already reaching for his weapon. “Stay here.”

I nod, my palm resting on the grip of my own weapon, a constant presence at my side since we left the hospital. The car falls silent, broken only by Vesper’s soft breathing and the distant crash of waves against the shore.

“She hasn’t cried,” Talon remarks. “Not once since they told us.”

“I know.” The weight of that knowledge settles like lead in my stomach. “It’s not healthy.”

“None of this is healthy. She’s shutting down, Oz. I can feel her slipping away.”

I turn in my seat to face him fully. “We won’t let that happen.”

“How?” The single word carries his grief, his guilt. “How do we fix this when we’re all broken?”

Before I can answer, Z materializes beside the car. He gives a curt nod, signaling the all-clear, and opens the rear door.

“I’ll take her,” he says, carefully gathering Vesper into his arms. She barely stirs, her body limp with exhaustion, as Z lifts her against his chest.

Talon struggles to exit the car one-armed, pride holding him back until I move to his side. “Lean on me,” I offer my shoulder. “The stairs are tricky in the dark.”

His jaw tightens, but he accepts my help, his good arm gripping my shoulder as we make our way up the weathered porch steps. The hinges protest as I push open the door, revealing the interior of our temporary refuge.

The safe house is exactly as we left it the last time we were here—sparse furnishings draped in sheets, the air heavy with the scent of disuse and sea salt. Z has already disappeared down the hallway with Vesper, his footsteps fading on the wooden floors.

“Couch or bed?” I ask Talon, whose face has gone ashen from the short walk.

“Bed,” he admits, the single word costing him. “Need to lie down.”

I guide him toward the smaller bedroom off the main living area, helping him ease onto the edge of the mattress. He hisses through his teeth as the movement jars his injured shoulder.

“Need your meds?”

“Not yet.” He shakes his head, then gestures toward the hallway where Z took Vesper. “Stay with her tonight. She shouldn't be alone.”

I nod, understanding the unspoken concern. Vesper's vacant stare has us all on edge. “Z will set the security protocols. Get some rest.”

The floorboards creak beneath my feet as I move through the dim house. A soft glow emanates from the main bedroom, where I find Z settling Vesper onto the bed, her limbs arranged with careful precision.

“She didn’t even wake when I carried her in,” Z sighs.

“Exhaustion. Shock. Grief. Her body’s shutting down what it can’t process.”

Z’s calloused thumb traces the shadowed circle beneath her eye. I move to the opposite side of the bed, sinking down beside Vesper’s sleeping form.

Vesper shifts, whimpering in her sleep. “Alex.”

“I'll take the first watch,” Z offers, already moving toward the window to check the perimeter again. “You should get some rest.”

I don't argue. The past seventy-two hours have drained me physically and mentally. Each hour watching Vesper's silent suffering carving out another piece from my soul. I shed my jacket and shoes, stretching out beside her on the bed.

“Should we try to wake her?” I ask, watching the rapid movement beneath her eyelids. “She's dreaming.”

Z shakes his head, letting the curtain fall back into place. “Let her sleep. Reality will be waiting soon enough.”

He's right, of course. Whatever nightmare plays behind her closed eyes can't be worse than waking to the truth again. I settle deeper into the mattress, careful not to disturb her, and try to ignore the Alex-shaped void in our lives that seems to grow larger with each passing hour.