Page 7 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)
I close the remaining distance between us, grabbing his shirt in my fists.
“Then stop resisting,” I challenge him.
Something snaps in Alex. I see it—the exact moment his control fractures. In a blink, his fingers tangle in my hair, tugging hard enough to sting, sharp and addictive. Then his mouth is on mine, crashing into me with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt—only need.
There's nothing gentle about it. His lips claim mine with bruising intensity, demanding rather than asking. I gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine with skilled precision.
My back hits the wall—I don’t remember moving.
Alex is on me in an instant, all sharp edges and restrained power.
One hand slides from my hair to my jaw, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.
The other clamps onto my hip, fingers pressing hard.
A spark ignites low in my belly, pulsing with every breath.
I’m drowning in him. Thought, memory—everything blurs. The images from my captivity, the sound of those recordings, my father’s betrayal—it all dissolves beneath the relentless force of Alex’s mouth. There’s nothing but this: his body pinning mine, his lips claiming me like I belong to him.
When he finally breaks the kiss, we’re both breathless. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, leaving just a rim of icy blue. He doesn’t let go—one hand still cupping my jaw, the other gripping my hip like I might disappear if he loosens his hold.
“There are three other guys sitting feet away on the other side of that door who deserve this far more than I do.”
“That's not for you to decide,” I say, my voice hoarse with desire. “It's about what I want.”
I pull him back to me, gentler this time, my lips brushing against his with deliberate slowness. His breath hitches, and I feel a tremor run through the fingers still gripping my hip.
“What about what you want, Alex?”
“What I want doesn't matter. Not when it comes to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you're—” He cuts himself off, pulling back slightly to look at me. “Because you deserve better than this. Than me. I'm not like the others.”
“This isn't about them.”
He watches me close, searching for any kernel of doubt—anything that would give him reason to pull away. He won't find it. My mind has never been clearer than in this moment, pressed between Alex's body and the wall of his sanctuary.
“What is it about then?”
I consider lying, saying something simple about desire or distraction. But the intensity in his eyes demands honesty.
“Control,” I admit. “Taking it back. On my terms.” Understanding dawns in his expression.
This isn't about comfort or even just desire—it's about reclaiming what was taken from me.
My brother. My son. My fucking life. All of it.
Building the power to keep us all safe. To prevent what happened to me, and what is now happening to Luca, from ever happening again.
Alex's fingers tighten in my hair, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me again. Instead, he carefully releases me and takes a deliberate step back. The cold air rushes between us, and I instantly miss his warmth.
“I want to give you that. But not like this. Not with…” He gestures toward the computer screens still displaying the evidence.
I look at the images, and something inside me deflates. He's right. The timing is all wrong, and suddenly I feel foolish for pushing this now, here, surrounded by images of my darkest moments.
“I understand,” I say quietly, smoothing down my shirt where his hands bunched the fabric.
“No, I don't think you do.” He takes a deep breath. “This isn't rejection, Vesper. This is...postponement.”
His locks onto me, and the intensity there makes my breath catch.
“I won’t do this. I won’t be your next distraction.” He steps closer again, close enough that I can feel his words against my skin when he speaks. “It will be because you want me. Just me. Nothing else between us.”
The promise in his voice sends a shiver down my spine. This is a side of Alex I've never seen before—commanding, certain, almost carnal. It's intoxicating.
“And how will you know when that time comes?” I challenge, refusing to back down despite the way my heart hammers against my ribs.
Because you’ll tell me.”
His finger trails along my jawline, barely a whisper of contact, but it sends a pulse of heat straight through me.
“I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, voice low and intimate. “When your mind is clear. When there’s nothing left but the truth.”
I swallow hard and give a small nod.
He steps back, creating the space we both need, but his gaze stays locked on me. The tension between us crackles like a live wire, sharp and electric.
“We should finish this,” he says, gesturing to the computer screen. “If you're up for it.”
I take a steadying breath and return to the chair. “I need to see it all.”
Alex sits beside me again, careful not to touch me as I continue through the remaining photos. The last images show me being moved, presumably in preparation for the exchange that never happened thanks to the guy’s intervention.
When the final photo fades from the screen, I lean back, emotionally drained but somehow lighter. Knowledge is power, and now I know exactly what I'm fighting against.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, turning to Alex. “For showing me. For staying.”
He nods, his expression unreadable. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I will be.”
The pictures of me strapped to that table make my skin crawl even after Alex closes the files on his computer.
I feel dirty, exposed, like I need to scrub my soul with bleach and steel wool.
Seeing myself like that, seeing what I experienced in that fucking torture chamber for two years like someone observing a caged animal at the zoo will haunt me.
The only consolation prize is if they stir something from the dark recesses of my mind.
The images flash behind my eyelids every time I blink—me unconscious, vulnerable, being prepped like a lamb for slaughter.
“I’ll keep looking, Vesper. I haven’t even scratched the surface of my capabilities yet. This won’t have been for nothing.”
God, I hope he’s right.