Page 58 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

OSCAR

I can always tell when my brother has fucked someone senseless. It's in the way he moves like a predator who's just fed but is still prowling for more. As I watch him emerge from the basement with Vesper trailing behind him, I can't help but smirk at Talon, who's already pulling out his wallet.

“Don't even start,” I say, holding out my hand as Talon slaps a fifty into my palm. “I've shared a womb with the man. I know his post-coital strut when I see it.”

Talon shakes his head, glancing back toward the stairs where Z and Vesper disappeared. “Could've been a hardcore training session. She looked like she needed to blow off steam.”

“Oh, she blew something alright.” I pocket the cash, turning back to the laptop where I've been scouring Alex’s files.

Talon drops into the chair opposite me, wincing as his injured shoulder protests the movement. “You're a sick bastard, betting on your brother's sex life.”

“Says the man who took the bet.” I don't look up from the screen, my fingers continuing their rhythmic dance across the keyboard.

“Besides, it's not about the sex. It's about knowing what she needs.” Vesper has been spiraling.

It was only a matter of time until she spiraled out of control.

Z just realized it sooner than the rest of us.

Vesper reappears a few minutes later wearing fresh clothes and her hair still damp from what I'm guessing was a quick shower to wash off the evidence of their "training session.

" There's something different about her now.

subtle shift in her demeanor that only someone who's been watching her as closely as I have would notice.

“Better, solnishko?” I ask, studying the way she moves across the room with more fluidity than before, the rigid tension noticeably diminished.

She nods, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “Yes. I needed to...clear my head.”

Z appears behind her, his split lip and the fresh bruise blooming along his jawline telling their own story. He catches my knowing look and responds with a barely perceptible shrug, neither confirming nor denying what transpired downstairs, but not bothering to hide his satisfaction either.

She seems lighter than I've seen her since before this nightmare began.

The haunted, hollow look since her meeting with The Collector hasn't disappeared entirely, but it's been pushed back, replaced by something sharper, more focused.

Z's methods may be unorthodox, but I can't argue with results. Despite the pang of jealousy that he’s able to give her that and not me.

“I've made progress with the files,” I tell her, gesturing toward the laptop. “Mario had a lot of blackmail on the families.”

“Which families?”

“Most of the American families,” I answer, turning the laptop so she can see the organized folders. “Some of the European ones, too.”

Vesper leans over my shoulder, her scent, a mixture of her vanilla shampoo and something distinctly Z, tickling my nostrils as she studies the screen. Her finger traces the list of family names, each one representing a potential ally...or enemy.

“And Russia?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “A few, but not as many as I would have liked.”

The disappointment is evident in her expression. “So what do we do with this information?” She looks between the three of us.

“We rally them to join our cause," I say, my mind already mapping out potential alliances. “Your grandfather didn’t just terrorize his own grandchildren. There are others. Dozens. If they help us, it could mean getting their missing family members back."

Z moves closer, his hand coming to rest on Vesper's lower back in a gesture that seems unconscious. “You're suggesting we build an army.”

“I'm suggesting we build a coalition,” I correct him, though the distinction may be semantic. “The Collector has been playing these families against each other for decades. What if we show them they have a common enemy?”

Talon nods slowly, understanding dawning across his features. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Talon finishes, leaning forward with renewed energy. “We turn The Collector's own tactics against him.”

“Exactly,” I nod, scrolling through the files. “Mario had dirt on nearly every major family. Enough leverage to force cooperation if needed.”

Vesper's fingers hover over the screen, tracing the names of powerful families who've suffered under The Collector's reign of terror. "But will blackmail really make them fight for us? We need loyalty, not reluctant allies who might turn on us at the first opportunity."

“Not blackmail,” I clarify. “Common cause. Mario has been watching The Collector closely. Some of these files have names, dates, and proof of which ones are still alive.”

Z's expression darkens. “And which ones aren't.”

“We offer them something more valuable than money or power,” I continue. “We offer them closure. Or better yet, the chance to get their loved ones back.”

Vesper straightens, “How many?”

“Fourteen confirmed still alive, including your brother. Mario didn’t have the locations, though, so that is a problem, but it’s a start.”

“Fourteen families who might help us.”

I nod, already calculating odds and alliances in my head. “Plus, whatever other information we can extract from these files. Mario was thorough.”

“But we still have the same problem,” Talon interjects. “Even with allies, how do we get to Victor Petrov? His compound might as well be on the moon for all the good fourteen crime families will do for us.”

Vesper stills. “Then we get him to open the doors by giving him what he wants, Rossi-Petrov heirs.”

“Absolutely not!” Z's roar drowns out everything else as he lunges forward, his face contorted with rage.

“That's suicide—” Talon shouts, rising from his chair so quickly that it topples backward.

“We're not using you as bait—” I start, my voice colliding with my brother's furious objections.

The three of us talk over each other, our protests colliding into a chaotic roar that fills the apartment.

Z paces like a caged animal, gesturing wildly as he curses in Russian, while Talon’s voice rises to match his, sharp and unrelenting.

I’m already running through alternate scenarios in my head, rattling them off one after another—but no one’s listening. No one’s hearing anyone.

“ENOUGH!” Vesper slams her palm against the table with such force that my laptop jumps.

The room falls silent instantly. She stands tall, chin raised, that familiar steel in her spine that I've always admired.

“It's the only way. Victor Petrov wants his dynasty secured more than anything. Yes, he has my son now, but he will want more security. More heirs. Bianca can’t give him that. I can.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Z seethes, crossing the room to tower over her. “I am not selling you off to my uncle. Not now, not ever.”

Where most people would crumble under his rage, she only seems to grow stronger, more resolute.

“Think about it,” she says. “Really think about it. Bianca and Mario needed my son. They needed a true Rossi heir to secure their position. Victor doesn't know about him yet. What better way to topple his empire and legacy than from within?”

Z shakes his head violently. “No.”

“It gets us through the door,” she continues. “I become the Trojan horse.”

I lean forward, the pieces clicking together in my mind. “It's not the worst plan,” I admit, earning a murderous glare from my twin. “Strategically speaking, it gives us access we wouldn't have otherwise.”

“You too?” Z spins to face me, betrayal etched across his features. “Have you both lost your fucking minds?”

Talon clears his throat. “Let's hear her out before we dismiss it entirely.”

Vesper nods gratefully at him before turning back to Z. “We could have a timeline of ten years, and we will never be able to get that close to him, Z. This is the only way.”

“Ten years or ten minutes, it doesn't matter,” Z argues. “You're not offering yourself to Victor Petrov.”

I watch the tension between them build. Z's protective rage versus Vesper's iron determination. It's a standoff neither will easily concede.

“What exactly are you proposing?” I ask, cutting through their silent battle. Strategy demands clarity, and right now we need specifics, not emotions.

“I contact Victor directly. I tell him everything. Mario and Bianca deceived him, how they had me taken by The Collector, and harvested to produce his grandson.”

“And then what?” Talon asks.

“Then I offer him what he truly wants,” Vesper says, her chin lifting with resolve. “A legitimate alliance through marriage. Myself to Dmitri, just as was originally planned before I was taken.”

The silence that follows is deafening. I can practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads, especially Z's, whose face has gone frighteningly blank.

“It's actually brilliant,” I admit, earning a murderous glare from my twin.

“Victor would never expect it. After everything that's happened, you offering yourself will seem like a legitimate surrender rather than a trap. You’re the head of the Rossi family now,” I stand, moving to the center of our small group.

“It would get you through the front door.”

“And then what?”

“I give my grandfather what he wants. The keys to the Petrov kingdom.”

The pieces fall into place in my mind like a strategic chess game unfolding. I rise from my chair, a plan crystallizing with clarity. Vesper is a fucking mastermind. This plan…is a masterclass of deception.

"Wait," I say, my voice cutting through the tension.

"That's exactly what we need to do. We play them against each other.

The Collector wants Russia, he wants the Petrovs destroyed.

It's been his endgame for decades." I begin pacing, the excitement of this strategy energizing me.

"And Victor? He's obsessed with legacy, with heirs, with continuing the Petrov/Rossi bloodline. "