Page 53 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

Oz has already shifted into strategic mode, pacing the room with calculated steps as he processes everything we’ve learned. “Victor Petrov’s compound is heavily fortified,” he says, thinking aloud. “But every stronghold has vulnerabilities.”

“It's not just about getting in," Vesper counters, her voice stronger now. "It's about getting close enough to kill him, his son, and Bianca. Three separate targets, likely in different locations."

I squeeze her hand gently. “You're not seriously considering this.”

“What choice do I have?” She pulls her hand from mine, rising to her feet with a sudden burst of energy that seems to surprise even her. “He has my brother. He has Alex. And if I don't at least make him believe I'm trying to fulfill my end of the bargain, they're both dead.”

The air in the apartment thickens with tension, each of us processing the impossible situation from different angles. Vesper begins pacing, her movements jerky and unpredictable, like a wounded animal searching for escape.

“We need to think clearly,” Oz says, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “The Collector, Mikhail, he's been planning this for decades. Every move calculated, every contingency accounted for.”

“Except Alex,” I counter. “He couldn't have anticipated Alex building that backdoor into his systems. The one that died with him when—” I stop, correcting myself. “The one we thought died with him.”

Vesper freezes mid-stride. “The key. What if that's what Alex meant? Not me, but something I have. Something I know.”

Talon straightens, wincing as his injured shoulder protests the movement. “Like what? A password? Access codes?”

“I don't know,” she admits, frustration coloring her voice. “But Alex wouldn't have said it if it wasn't important. He was desperate to tell me something specific, even while they were beating him.”

My blood boils at the image her words conjure, but I force myself to focus. “What exactly did he say? Word for word.”

“‘You're the key, Vesper. The key to everything.’’’ She shakes her head. “That's all he said.”

Oz sits up suddenly. “Wait. Vesper, you're the key.”

“Yeah, we got that far, but what does it mean?”

“No,” Oz shakes his head emphatically, wincing slightly at the movement. “Alex said he found files on Mario’s computer. Blackmail material on the other families. Leverage we can use for their help. He has it on a flash drive. He extracted it before we left.”

“So?” I ask, impatience bleeding into my voice.

Oz stands now. “Vesper is not just the metaphorical key. She’s the literal key. You can unlock it.”

“Biometric encryption,” I breathe, the pieces falling into place. “Alex would have secured the data with the highest level of protection.”

“Oz,” Talon nods eagerly. “Not just any biometric lock, one keyed specifically to you. Your fingerprint, retinal scan, maybe even DNA.”

Vesper stares at him. “But where would he keep something like that? I searched his room. I didn’t find anything.”

“Not in his room," Talon interjects. “He would have kept it somewhere more secure. Somewhere only you would think to look.”

I watch as something shifts in Vesper's expression, the first real animation I've seen since she walked through that door. Her brow furrows in concentration.

“The basement,” she says suddenly. Vesper is already moving, heading toward the hidden stairwell that leads to the apartment's lower level. We follow her.

I haven't set foot down here since before Newport, since before we lost him.

The air is cooler here, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood that never quite washes away, no matter how thoroughly he cleaned.

I feel the familiar tightening in my chest as we descend the stairs, not fear exactly, but a visceral respect for what happens in this space.

Vesper moves with newfound purpose, her footsteps echoing against the concrete as she crosses to the center of the room.

The overhead lights flicker on automatically, motion sensors responding to our presence.

Everything is meticulously organized, with chains bolted to support beams. A butcher's playground, designed for maximum efficiency.

“What exactly are we looking for?” I ask.

“I don't know yet. But Alex wouldn't have told me I was the key if he didn't think I could figure it out.” I watch her as she moves through the basement, her fingers trailing along surfaces, cataloging every detail. “Come on, Alex. Give me some sort of sign. What am I looking for?”

I watch Vesper as she methodically sweeps the basement, her movements becoming more fluid as purpose replaces the hollow emptiness that has consumed her for days. This is the Vesper I know, focused, determined, refusing to accept defeat even when the odds are stacked impossibly against her.

“Think, Vesper,” Oz encourages, keeping a respectful distance as she works. “If Alex encrypted something specifically for you, it would be somewhere meaningful. Somewhere that connects to you both.”

“This is pointless. I have no idea where to look.”

“Think about the last time you were down here. Before they left for Martha’s Vineyard. Did he say or give you something?”

“He said a lot of things. Mostly about him being expendable. Nothing about how to find the key.”

I watch as Vesper's frustration builds. “Tell me where to fucking look, Alex!” she screams into the void.

Her voice echoes off the concrete walls, the raw emotion in it hanging in the air like smoke. Then silence falls, heavy and oppressive, broken only by her ragged breathing.

I move toward her, instinct overriding caution, but Oz catches my arm with a subtle shake of his head. Let her work through this.

Vesper stands motionless in the center of the room.

“Why did you think about the basement?” Talon interrupts the silence. “Why this space, Vesper?”

“This is where he told me about his demons,” she sighs, her voice heavy.

“Where he revealed and demonstrated what was buried beneath the surface.” She moves to the metal exam table in the center of the room.

“He killed Natasha right here, after forcing her to admit what she’d done.

” She pauses, glancing around once more.

“Over there,” she says, nodding toward Alex’s weapon cabinet, “he confessed to me the night before his trip to Martha’s Vineyard that he could never be with me because he feared he would destroy me. He believed his life was expendable.”

"Expendable," I echo, the word catching in my mind like a burr. Alex never did anything without purpose—every word, every action calculated for maximum effect. "What exactly did he say about being expendable?"

"He said he wasn't like the rest of you. That he was the expendable one." Her voice grows stronger as she continues, "He told me if it came down to a choice between him or Talon coming back, he'd make sure it was Talon."

"He knew," Talon breathes, realization dawning across his features. "He fucking knew something might go wrong. He was preparing you."

Vesper moves toward the weapons cabinet with renewed purpose, her fingers tracing the metal edge of the door. "This is where we were standing when he said it." She pulls the door open.

"Nothing here," she mutters, frustration creeping back into her voice.

"Wait," Oz interjects, stepping closer. "The cabinet itself. Check for false bottoms, hidden compartments."

Vesper kneels, running her fingers along the interior of the cabinet, feeling for irregularities. Her movements become more frantic as she finds nothing, desperation bleeding through her careful control.

"Damn it, Alex," she hisses, slamming her palm against the metal in frustration. The cabinet resonates with a hollow sound that makes us all freeze.

"That didn't sound right," I say, dropping to my knees beside her. "Hit it again."

Vesper strikes the cabinet floor once more, and again we hear that strange, echoing quality. Not solid. Not quite empty either.

"There's something in there," Talon confirms, leaning in despite his injured shoulder.

Oz pushes forward. "The floor panel, check for seams, anything that might indicate a hidden compartment."

Vesper's fingers trace the metal flooring, feeling along edges until, "Wait." Her nail catches on something almost imperceptible. "There's a seam here."

We watch as she works her fingernail into the tiny gap, trying to pry up the panel. After several tense seconds, she sits back on her heels with a frustrated sound.

"It won't budge."

"Let me," I offer, pulling a knife from my boot. I slide the thin blade into the seam, working it carefully around the perimeter until I hear a faint click. The panel shifts slightly beneath my touch.

"There," I mutter, wedging my fingers into the newly created gap. With a metallic groan, the false bottom lifts, revealing a shallow compartment beneath.

Vesper gasps, reaching inside to extract a small metal case no larger than her palm. It's sleek and black, with no visible seams or openings, just a small depression on its surface sized for a fingertip.

"Biometric lock," Oz confirms, moving closer to examine it. "Fingerprint scanner, from the looks of it."

Vesper stares at the case. "You really think this is what Alex meant? That I'm literally the key to this?"

"Only one way to find out," Talon says gently.

She takes a deep breath, then presses her index finger to the depression. For a moment, nothing happens. Then a soft blue light pulses beneath her fingertip, scanning the unique whorls and ridges of her print. It flashes green, but doesn’t unlock.

“Well, that didn’t work.” Talon takes it from Vesper, studying it. “No retinal scanner. DNA?”

“So I need to prick my finger? How would he have gotten a blood sample from me?” She pauses. “You know what, it’s Alex. He probably has my entire DNA mapped.”

She takes the device from Talon, studying it. “Where would I even put it?”

“Try kissing it,” Talon suggests. I turn to stare at him. “What?” he shrugs. “Saliva has DNA?”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“It’s worth a try, and far less invasive.”

Vesper takes the device and presses her lips to it. The light turns green, followed by a barely audible click as the case unseals itself.

"It worked," she blurts out, awe and grief mingling in her voice.

With careful movements, she opens the case. Inside lies a small flash drive, matte black with no markings, nestled in custom-fitted foam. Beside it rests a folded piece of paper.

Vesper lifts the note with trembling fingers, unfolding it to reveal Alex’s sharp, angular handwriting. The room falls into a heavy silence.

Show them who you really are, Vesper.—A

The note trembles in Vesper's hands. I watch as she traces his signature with her fingertip.

No one speaks for a moment, the weight of Alex’s foresight settling over us like a heavy fog. Even now—held captive and broken—he’s still ten steps ahead of everyone else. The thought fills me with equal parts hope and dread.