Page 65 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

ALEX

Pain has a rhythm, if you listen closely enough. The steady metronome of agony keeping time with each heartbeat.

The guards yank us from our cell without warning, my broken ribs flaring in agony as I’m hauled upright. I catch Luca’s gaze for a split second, just enough to exchange a silent message before black fabric drops over my head, plunging everything into darkness.

“Move,” a voice snarls, followed by a shove between my shoulders.

I shuffle forward, relying on everything but sight.

Ten steps straight, then a turn to the right.

The floor shifts beneath my feet, from smooth tile to rough concrete.

We’re headed toward the loading bay. I count thirty-three more steps.

The air opens up, echoing differently now.

Higher ceilings. The low rumble of an engine confirms it.

“Step up,” the guard barks, pressure pressing between my shoulder blades.

I lift my foot and feel the cold edge of metal beneath it—a van, judging by the height. Behind me, Luca stumbles, followed by a grunt as someone manhandles him up behind me.

“Sit,” comes the next command, and I’m shoved down onto a hard bench, the surface unyielding against my spine.

The metal floor vibrates beneath my feet as the engine idles.

I count four distinct breathing patterns besides Luca and myself.

least four guards are accompanying us. Heavy boots shuffle around as they position themselves.

Something cold, metal clicks around my wrists—handcuffs.

I test the restraints subtly, solid, no give. Professional work.

The van lurches forward suddenly, throwing me against the restraints. Pain explodes through my ribcage, but I swallow the groan that threatens to escape. Never show weakness. Not to these people.

“Alex?” Luca's voice comes from my right, low and cautious. “Any idea where they're taking us?”

I tilt my head in his direction, though the hood makes it pointless. “Could be anywhere. Transfer to another facility. Something worse.”

“Shut up back there,” a guard barks, followed by the distinct sound of a baton tapping against metal.

I fall silent, but my mind races through possibilities. The timing is suspicious. 24 hours since Vesper's meeting with Mikhail. Is this part of his "proof of life" promise? Or something else entirely?

The van takes a sharp turn, sending us sliding against our restraints. Luca hisses in pain beside me.

“You okay?” I whisper when the guard's attention seems elsewhere.

“Been better,” he replies through what sounds like gritted teeth. “Any chance this is a rescue?”

“Doubtful. Your sister needs more time.”

The road beneath us changes—smoother now, likely asphalt rather than the gravel drive of the facility. We're on a public highway now. We're being moved long-distance, not just between buildings on the compound.

The minutes stretch into what must be hours, the rhythm of the road hypnotic beneath the roar of the engine. My body settles into the pain, finding that strange meditative state where agony becomes just another sensation to catalog rather than something to fight against.

A new sound penetrates my awareness. Distant at first, then growing louder with each passing second. The distinctive whine of jet engines, the roar of a plane passing low overhead.

My blood turns to ice.

“Do you hear that?”

“An airplane," he confirms.

The van slows, turning onto what feels like a service road—the suspension bouncing over potholes, jostling my broken ribs. The plane sounds grow louder, almost deafening now. We're near an airport. Too near for coincidence.

My mind connects the pieces with sickening clarity. Vesper must have made her move against Victor Petrov. The 72-hour deadline…she's acted faster than Mikhail anticipated. And now we're being transported, insurance policies to be cashed in or discarded depending on her success.

“They're taking us to the airport,” I declare, leaning closer to Luca. “Russia. They’re sending us to Russia.”

“Why Russia?” Luca's voice is strained, fear bleeding through the forced calm of his words.

“Because that's where she'd be going. Vesper must have found a way into Petrov territory. She's making her move against Victor.”

“So soon?”

“It's the only explanation for why they're moving us now.” I feel the van slowing, turning in what must be a wide arc. “Mikhail wouldn't risk transporting us unless something's changed.”

The van comes to an abrupt halt. Doors slam open at the front, followed by the sound of boots on pavement. The back doors wrench open, letting in a blast of cold air that cuts through my thin clothes.

“Out,” a voice commands as hands grab my arms, yanking me forward.

My feet hit pavement, knees buckling before strong hands steady me. The hood is ripped from my head, the sudden brightness blinding. I squint against the light, forcing my eyes to adjust.

We're on a private airfield. A sleek Gulfstream waits on the tarmac, its engines already spooling up, stairs extended from its fuselage. Armed men form a perimeter around us, their faces hidden behind balaclavas, weapons held at the ready.

Luca stands beside me, blinking into the harsh daylight as the guards bark orders and herd us toward the waiting transport. His face is pale beneath the bruises, the kind that look worse in the sun. Sickly purples and fading yellow marks mapping every hit he didn’t dodge.

He moves stiffly, jaw clenched like he’s holding something back.

Pain. Rage. Probably both. He’s quieter than I remember.

Harder too. Back at St. Jude’s, he was always the golden boy.

His sister’s protector, and his father’s perfect heir.

I was the fuse waiting to be lit on the other side of the divide.

Oscar and Zaire were the only ones who didn’t care about the blood on my hands. They accepted me into their circle without hesitation, no judgment, no questions. Talon was the same. But Luca? He watched me. Always.

Like prey watching a predator, trying to figure out when I’d make my move or if I would at all.

He thought I didn’t notice. But I always did. Even then, there was something sharp in the way he looked at me. Like he wasn’t sure whether to keep his distance…or get closer just to understand what made me tick.

And maybe part of me wanted him to.

that’s why I can’t stop noticing him now. Noticing the way he doesn’t flinch, even when the guard shoves him forward. The way he stays on his feet, even after everything.

I remind myself this isn’t about him. It’s about Vesper. She’s the reason we’re here. The reason they’re keeping us breathing. She’s the one I promised myself I’d protect, no matter the cost. Still, I catch myself glancing at Luca again.

We’re nothing alike. And yet…here we are.

“Move,” a guard snaps, the butt of his rifle slamming into my shoulder, forcing me forward.

The wind howls across the tarmac, sharp and bitter, thick with the stench of jet fuel and oncoming rain.

Overhead, the engines scream like warnings, the roar vibrating through my ribs.

Each step sends a fresh jolt of pain through my body, but I stay upright.

I have to. One stumble, one crack in my armor, and they’ll bury me in a shallow grave before we ever touch down in Moscow.

Beside me, Luca moves with that same stiff precision. Blood crusts along his temple.

“Mikhail's taking no chances,” I mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “This is a one-way trip to Russian soil.”

He glances at me. “Why?”

“Because if Vesper pulls it off, we’re leverage.”

I pause as we reach the foot of the stairs, the metal steps slick with rain. The wind cuts through my shirt like knives.

“And if she doesn’t…”

I don't finish. I don’t have to. Because the answer hangs between us like a noose.

If she fails, we’re already dead.