Page 68 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)

VESPER

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, Bianca's blood drying in rust-colored flecks across my cheeks and neck.

My hands tremble as I grip the marble countertop, the diamond-encrusted watch on my wrist catching the light.

I've seen death before, delivered it myself, but the casual way Victor executed her, like swatting an annoying insect, has left me shaken to my core.

The bathroom door opens behind me, and Talon steps in. “They're listening,” he mouths silently, tapping his ear before turning on the shower. The rush of water creates a shield of noise as he moves closer.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, his hand warm against the small of my back.

I shake my head, words failing me as the enormity of what we've walked into finally hits.

Victor Petrov shot Bianca without hesitation, without trial.

His own daughter-in-law executed, and in the next breath, invited me to dine with him.

Victor Petrov may be a bigger monster than my own grandfather.

What would he do to me if he discovered our deception?

“I need to get this off me.”

Talon reaches for a plush hand towel, wetting it under the faucet before gently turning me to face him.

With tender care, he begins to wipe away the blood from my face.

Each gentle stroke removes another spatter of Bianca's life from my skin, but nothing can erase the image of her crumpling to the floor.

“You should shower. I'll stand guard at the door.”

I nod, suddenly desperate to wash away every trace of this nightmare. "Thank you."

As Talon turns to take up his position at the door, I shed my blood-stained clothes, letting them fall to the marble floor in a heap. The hot water scalds my skin as I step under the spray, but I welcome the pain to ground me in the present, to wash away the shock threatening to paralyze me.

I scrub until my skin turns pink, watching as the last traces of Bianca's blood swirl down the drain. Steam fills the massive shower enclosure, clouding the glass walls and creating a momentary illusion of safety.

Wrapping myself in one of the plush towels, I step out of the shower, my mind racing with contingency plans. I need to contact Z and Oz to confirm they're safe and warn them.

A soft knock at the outer door catches my attention.

Talon motions for me to stay where I am as he answers it.

I freeze, watching through the partially open bathroom door as Talon speaks in hushed tones with someone in the hallway.

My pulse quickens, imagining Victor's guards coming to escort me to dinner—or worse.

When Talon steps back into view, he's holding something that makes my breath catch. A designer dress sways gently from a satin hanger in his grip, its midnight blue fabric shimmering under the chandelier light. It's exquisite, and clearly meant for me.

“Compliments of your host.” His expression is unreadable as he holds up the garment. The dress is a masterpiece of understated elegance, with a plunging neckline and a slit that would reach mid-thigh. “Victor thought you might appreciate something...fresh to wear.”

I step forward, my fingers brushing against the silky material. “He works quickly.”

“Efficient monsters usually do,” Talon mutters. “There are shoes to match. And jewelry.”

As if on cue, I notice the velvet box sitting on the bed behind him. My stomach churns at the thought of Victor selecting these items for me. This isn't hospitality, it's ownership. Marking me as his property before I've even agreed to our alliance.

“How thoughtful.” It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes when I open the box and find a brilliant diamond necklace with inlaid rubies. He’s wasting no time spoiling the broodmare to his empire.

Talon peers at it over my shoulder. “Subtle. Nothing says ‘welcome to the family’ like a collar of diamonds and blood.”

I lift the necklace from its velvet nest. The central ruby is the size of my thumbnail, surrounded by diamonds that catch the light. It's breathtaking and suffocating all at once.

“Help me?” I turn my back to Talon and lift my damp hair. His fingers brush my neck as he takes the necklace, the touch sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

“Just so we're clear,” he declares as he fastens the clasp, “we're still sticking to the plan, right? Even after...” He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't need to.

The necklace already feels like a noose around my neck. “Yes.”

“I know." Talon's jaw tightens. “I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page.”

The diamonds lie cold against my skin as I drop the towel and step into the midnight blue dress.

It fits as if it were made for me specifically.

The thought is unsettling. I had assumed this dress belonged to my recently departed cousin, but she and I weren’t even remotely close in size or body type.

The idea that Victor had a dress waiting for me makes my skin crawl with fresh horror.

“How would Victor even know my size?” I turn to examine the fit in the mirror.

“Maybe he had you measured while you slept on the plane,” Talon suggests, only half-joking.

A chill runs through me at the thought. I shake my head and cross the room to where my bag sits on an antique writing desk. I need to focus on something I can control.

Opening the bag, I find The Collector's tablet exactly where I left it nestled. My fingers tremble slightly as I power it on, the screen casting an eerie blue glow across my face. I pull up the message I sent from the jet's bathroom, checking for any response.

Nothing. The screen remains stubbornly empty of notifications.

“He hasn't replied.” A knot of unease tightens in my stomach. My grandfather is many things, but negligent isn't one of them. His silence is deliberate.

“Maybe that's a good thing,” Talon says, moving closer to look over my shoulder. “Gives us more time to maneuver.”

A sharp knock at the door makes us both freeze.

“Miss Rossi?” A voice calls from the corridor. “Mr. Petrov requests your presence for dinner in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” I call back, smoothing the midnight blue fabric of my dress. “Please inform him I'll be there shortly.”

Heavy footsteps retreat down the hallway as I turn to Talon, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Let's not keep our host waiting.” I run my fingers through my damp hair, arranging it into loose waves that cascade down my back. “How do I look?”

“Like a queen walking into battle.”

I lift my chin despite the gaudy mass of jewels around my neck. “Then let's go to war.”

The halls of Victor's palace stretch before us like a labyrinth, each corridor more opulent than the last. Talon offers his arm, a silent support as we follow a guard whose expression remains unreadable. My heels click against the marble floors, the sound echoing through the vast, gilded spaces.

We descend a grand staircase, the steps wide and shallow, forcing a measured pace that feels ceremonial. At the bottom, a woman in a crisp uniform awaits.

“This way to the dining room, Miss Rossi,” she says, her accent thick.

The dining hall materializes behind massive double doors.

A cavernous space dominated by a table that could seat thirty but is set for only six.

Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across gilded surfaces, illuminating priceless artwork and tapestries that line the walls.

Victor stands at the far end, resplendent in evening attire.

Victor notices me the second I enter. A smile curves his lips as he strides toward us with the confidence of a man who's never questioned his own power.

“Vesper.” My name rolls off his tongue with a familiar ease that makes my skin crawl. “You look exquisite.”

Before I can respond, he's beside me, his fingers closing around my wrist as he detaches me from Talon's arm with smooth efficiency. The gesture is subtle but unmistakable—a transfer of possession.

“Come,” Victor guides me toward the head of the table, his hand at the small of my back. “You'll sit here, to my left. The position of highest honor for a guest in my home.”

I allow myself to be maneuvered into place, the heavy chair pulled out with a flourish by a waiting servant. Victor's hand lingers on my shoulder as I'm seated, his fingers tracing the edge of the necklace he provided, branding me.

Talon moves to take up his position along the wall, his expression carefully neutral as he surveys the room.

“Mr. St. James,” Victor calls, not bothering to look in Talon's direction as he takes his own seat at the head of the table. “That won't be necessary. Join us.” He gestures to the chair directly next to mine.

Talon hesitates for just a heartbeat before acquiescing, taking the offered.

The massive doors at the far end of the dining hall swing open again, and my breath catches as Oscar and Zaire enter. They've been transformed. are their travel-worn clothes, replaced by impeccably tailored suits that highlight the elegance of their Petrov heritage.

“Ah, my nephews. How kind of you to join us.”

Oscar moves with fluid grace to take the seat directly across from Talon. His lips form a silent question—Okay? I give him an almost imperceptible nod, hoping my expression conveys more confidence than I feel.

Z takes the remaining seat beside his brother, his posture deceptively relaxed, though I can see the tension in his body. The family resemblance between the three Petrov men is striking in this setting.

“Drinks?” Victor gestures to a servant. “The Petrov Reserve, bottled on the day of my grandson's birth.”

The servant moves efficiently, pouring the clear liquid into crystal glasses. I notice Victor glance at his platinum watch, a flash of irritation crossing his face as he checks the time. His fingers drum once against the polished table.

“Shall we begin?” I suggest reaching for my glass.