Page 43 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

VESPER

I stand at the window of our Boston apartment, watching the late afternoon light paint the city skyline in hues of amber and gold.

With our safe house no longer safe, Oz decided that we were better off back in Boston.

Closer to the meeting tomorrow, and better equipped.

In the blink of an eye, we were on the road, heading back to our home base. To Alex’s empty room.

“Perimeter's secure,” Oz announces as he emerges from the bedroom hallway. “Security system is armed.”

I nod without turning. Behind me, I can hear the familiar sounds of my men preparing for war—the metallic click of weapons being checked, and hushed conversations punctuated by the occasional curse.

It should be comforting, but all I can think about is the empty space where Alex should be standing, hunched over his laptop with that little furrow between his brows.

I press my fingers against the cool glass, feeling the vibration of the city below. My mind keeps replaying the image of Luca hanging there, the way his body convulsed when that cattle prod touched his skin. Twenty-four hours. That's all the time I have to save what's left of my family.

“Vesper.”

The voice behind me is gentle, careful. I turn to find Talon standing there, his injured arm still in a sling, holding out a steaming mug of coffee. The rich aroma reaches me, but my stomach turns at the thought of consuming anything.

“No, thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “I can't.”

“You need something. You've barely eaten.”

“I said no.” The words come out sharper than I intended.

Talon doesn't flinch, just sets the mug down on the windowsill beside me. “It's here if you change your mind.”

Oz and Z emerge from the hallway, joining us near the large table in the living room where maps and blueprints of the Rossi mansion are spread out.

“We've got three potential entry points,” Oz begins, leaning over the table and pointing to the layout. “East wing has the heaviest security, but we might be able to bypass it if?—”

“No," I interrupt, stepping away from the window. Three pairs of eyes turn to me, surprise visible in each of them.

“No?” Z repeats, straightening to his full height.

“I'm going alone,” I state. The decision crystallized during our silent drive back to Boston.

“Absolutely not,” Talon says immediately, shaking his head. “We're not letting you walk into a trap by yourself.”

“It's not up for debate.” I move toward the table, studying the blueprint with calculated detachment. “The message was clear. If they see any of you, Luca dies.”

“And if you go alone, you both die,” Oz counters, his voice tight with frustration. “Vesper, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? There's nothing reasonable about any of this.”

“We understand your urgency, moya koroleva, but rushing in without proper planning is exactly what The Collector wants.”

My fingers trace the red circle marking my father's study. “He wants something only I can give him. He said it himself.”

The three men exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them that makes my skin prickle with irritation.

“This is about my family. The Collector took Luca and I, raped our bodies, harvested our family’s legacy, and sold them to the highest bidder. This has never been just about me, but my entire family. The only way this ends is if I meet with him.”

“That's not entirely true,” Oz says, his voice quiet but firm. “It's about us too, Vesper. It's about all of us now.”

I turn away, frustration building in my chest. "You don't understand what he's capable of."

“We understand exactly what he's capable of,” Talon counters, moving to stand beside me. His good arm reaches out, fingers brushing mine. “We've seen what he did to you. What he did to Luca in that video. We're not naive.”

“Then you should understand why I have to go alone!” My voice rises, echoing against the apartment walls. “I've already lost Alex. I won't lose the rest of you, too.”

The room falls silent at the mention of his name. It's the first time I've spoken it aloud since the beach with Z. The pain is still raw, an open wound that refuses to heal.

Z approaches slowly, as if I'm a wounded animal that might bolt. “Vesper, listen to me. The Collector isn't expecting you to come alone. He's expecting you to bring us.”

I blink, confusion momentarily replacing my anger. “What?”

“Think about it,” Oz continues, picking up his brother's thread. “He knows you well enough to understand you wouldn't leave Luca to suffer. But he also knows us. He knows we wouldn't let you walk into danger unprotected.”

“It's a trap within a trap.”

“Exactly,” Talon confirms. “He's counting on us to accompany you, planning to eliminate all of us in one sweep.”

The realization settles over me like a cold shroud. The Collector has always been ten steps ahead, manipulating every move on this twisted chessboard. My hand trembles slightly as I reach for the coffee mug Talon left, needing something to ground me.

“So what's your brilliant alternative?” I ask, taking a sip of the now lukewarm liquid. “If going together is walking into a trap, and going alone is suicide, what options do we have left?”

Oz leans forward, his finger tracing a path on the blueprint I hadn't noticed before.

We go in differently. Not the way someone would expect.”

“The underground tunnel system,” Z adds, tapping another section of the blueprint. “Your father had escape routes built throughout the property. Alex found them when he was researching the estate.”

My breath catches at the mention of Alex's name again. Of course, he would have discovered my family's secrets, even the ones I didn't know existed. He was thorough like that, meticulous in his preparation.

“These tunnels,” I begin, "I never knew about them.”

“They were deliberately kept off the main house plans,” Oz explains. “Your father didn't want anyone knowing all his potential escape routes.”

I shake my head. “Of course, he didn't.” The irony isn't lost on me that I am using my father's paranoia to save the son he never truly valued.

“The main tunnel entrance is beneath the greenhouse,” Z continues, his finger tracing the path on the blueprint.

“It leads directly to a hidden door in your father's study.

The Collector may know about the tunnel system, but he won't expect us to use it.

Not if he believes we're coming through the front.”

“So I'm the distraction,” I conclude. “I walk in through the front door while you three sneak in through the tunnels.”

Talon's jaw tightens. “It's risky. You'll be exposed, vulnerable.”

“I've survived that man before,” I remind them. “I can do it again. Long enough for you to get to Luca.”

Oz studies me, his mind visibly working through scenarios. “You'll need to keep him talking. Stall as long as possible while we navigate the tunnels and locate Luca.”

“That won't be difficult.” The memories of The Collector's fondness for monologuing flashing through my mind. “He loves the sound of his own voice.”

Z moves closer, his expression grave. “If anything goes wrong, if you feel threatened in any way, you give us the signal.”

Talon moves to a leather case on the coffee table, opening it to reveal a small black device. “This is one of Alex's designs. It's a subdermal tracker and panic button in one.”

My stomach twists at the sight of it, another piece of Alex's brilliance that would live on without him. “Subdermal?”

“It needs to go under your skin,” Oz explains, his expression apologetic. “The Collector will search you for electronics. This is the only way to ensure he won't find it.”

I stare at the tiny device, no larger than a grain of rice. “Where?”

“Upper arm,” Z answers. “Easy to access, but not somewhere he's likely to check closely.”

“Do it,” I say, already rolling up my sleeve. “Now.”

Talon hesitates, glancing at the twins. “It will hurt.”

“Everything hurts,” I reply simply. “This one is just pain with a purpose.”

Z retrieves a medical kit from beneath the sink. He returns to my side, setting the kit on the coffee table and extracting a sealed package containing what looks like a syringe with an unusually thick needle.

“This was developed for covert operatives,” Oz explains, watching as Z prepares the area on my upper arm with an alcohol swab. The cold sensation makes me shiver. “Alex modified it to include both tracking and emergency signal capabilities.”

I clench my jaw at the mention of his name again. “Will I be able to feel it?”

“After the initial insertion, no,” Z answers, his fingers gentle against my skin as he identifies the ideal placement. “The casing is biocompatible. Your body won't reject it.”

Talon moves to my other side, offering me his good hand. I take it as Z positions the injector against my arm.

“Deep breath,” Z declares. “On three. One...two...”

The pain is sharp and immediate, a burning sensation that radiates outward from the injection site. I bite down hard on my lower lip, refusing to make a sound as the device slips beneath my skin. Z removes the injector and immediately applies pressure to the tiny wound.

“Done,” he says, reaching for a small adhesive bandage. “The signal is already active.”

Talon squeezes my hand before releasing it. “The tracker has a battery life of approximately forty-eight hours. More than enough time for what we need to do.”

I flex my arm experimentally, feeling only a slight tenderness where the device now sits beneath my skin. “How does the panic button work?”

“Press here,” Oz demonstrates on his own arm, indicating a spot about an inch above where Z inserted the tracker. “Hard pressure for three seconds activates the emergency signal. We'll all receive the alert immediately.”

I nod, committing the location to memory. “And if I can't reach it?”

The three men exchange glances, the unspoken worry hanging heavy between them.

“Let's make sure it doesn't come to that,” Talon says finally, his jaw tight with determination.