All The Pretty Little Lies (Second Sons Duet #1)

9. Oscar

OSCAR

The morning sun filters through the heavy velvet curtains of Father's study, casting long shadows across the antique Persian rug. Zaire and I sit in silence, perched on the edge of leather armchairs that still smell faintly of cigar smoke and brandy. Father's voice, low and intense, drifts from behind his massive mahogany desk as he speaks rapidly into the phone in hushed Russian.

I catch Zaire's eye, and he smirks, mouthing "Uncle Victor" with an exaggerated eye roll. Despite the gravity of the situation, I have to stifle a laugh. Our uncle's flair for the dramatic is legendary within the family.

"Yes, Victor. We have the upper hand now," Father says, a hint of satisfaction coloring his tone. "The situation with my sons and Rossi’s heir has given us precisely the leverage we need."

I swallow hard, guilt gnawing at my insides like a hungry rat. This is my fault. If I hadn't asked Zaire to distract Luca so I could talk to Vesper. I glance at my brother, but his face is impassive, almost bored. How can he be so calm? Vesper’s life and the future of our family rides on our shoulders today. One wrong move and shit will hit the proverbial fan. Vesper marrying Dmitri is only the start of the cataclysmic shift in power that our uncle has planned. We can’t allow that to happen when it means that my father and our family are no longer an asset. He’ll have what he wants, Rossi-Petrov heirs. Uncle Victor will have no need for us.

Father's laugh, sharp and sudden, startles me. "Indeed, brother. The Rossis won't know what hit them."

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, the leather creaking beneath me. Father's eyes flick to mine, a warning in their depths. I school my features into neutrality, but my hands are clammy, and my heart races.

Zaire leans over, his voice barely a whisper. "Relax, Oz. You look like you’re a sinner stepping foot into a church right now. Keep it fucking together."

Father ends the call with a decisive click. "Boys," he says, leaning back in his chair, "it seems our family's fortunes are about to change. The Rossis have always thought themselves untouchable, but now..." He smiles, a predator's grin. "Now, we hold all the cards."

I force a smile, hoping it doesn't look as strained as it feels. "That's fantastic news, Father.”

Father's eyes gleam with a mixture of pride and ambition. "Indeed, Oscar. This is the moment we've been waiting for. With Vesper Rossi as Dmitri's bride, we'll have unprecedented access to both families' operations. The wealth, the power. It's all within our grasp."

Zaire, ever the perfect son, leans forward with an eager expression. "Do we need to prepare to escort Vesper, Father? Ensure her safe passage to Moscow?"

"No need, boys. Your uncle has it well in hand." He waves a dismissive hand. "Your guard duty is over. Victor's men will take care of the transport. The car is already being sent over to the Rossi mansion. "

The irony of his words isn't lost on me. Our guard duty may be over in his eyes, but for Zaire and me, it's only just beginning.

"That's...efficient," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Uncle Victor always was one for thorough planning."

Father chuckles a sound that sends a chill down my spine. "Oh, you have no idea, Oscar. The wheels have been in motion for longer than you can imagine." Father stands, stretching his arms above his head. The sunlight catches on his gold watch, sending fractals of light dancing across the room. "The amount of money that I would have paid to be in the room when Victor calls Antonio. We might even see the explosion from here,” he chuckles to himself. “This calls for a celebration. I think I'll open that bottle of Macallan 1926 I've been saving."

As he turns to the liquor cabinet, I exchange a loaded glance with Zaire. My brother's eyes flicker with understanding, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod. We're on the same page.

"Actually, Father," I say, standing up, trying to keep my voice steady, "if you don't mind, Zaire and I thought we might head into town. You know, celebrate in our own way before school." I force a mischievous grin, hoping he'll assume we're paying a visit to the harem he's always presumed we had at our beck and call.

Father pauses, crystal decanter in hand. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he's going to refuse. But then he chuckles, shaking his head indulgently. "You boys and your escapades. Very well, go on. But remember, we have a family dinner tonight. I expect you both back and presentable by eight. Your mother will be disappointed if you’re late. You know how much she misses the two of you when we’re abroad."

"Of course, Father," Zaire says smoothly, rising to his feet. "We wouldn't miss it for the world."

As we leave the study, my mind is already racing, formulating plans to ensure our success. While I had hoped to be in the car with Vesper as her escort, this doesn’t change our plan. It just makes it harder to execute it.

We stride down the marble hallway, our footsteps echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Zaire's face is a mask of calm, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the slight twitch of his left eye that always betrays his anxiety. As we pass the grand staircase, I catch a glimpse of our mother in the drawing room, her delicate hands arranging a bouquet of blood-red roses. She doesn't look up as we pass, lost in her own world of flowers and silence. It’s been over a year since she and Father came to our home here in Boston. We’d been left in the care of the staff while they stayed close to Uncle Victor.

The warm summer air hits us as we step outside, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth. Zaire’s black Lamborghini Aventador sits in the circular driveway, a sleek predator among the manicured topiaries. The car chirps as he unlocks it, and I slide into the passenger seat, the buttery leather cool against my skin. Zaire guns the engine, and we peel out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The wrought-iron gates swing open as we approach, and then we're on the open road, the sprawling Petrov estate disappearing in the rearview mirror.

We drive in tense silence, the summer landscape blurring past in a riot of greens and blues. I watch as we pass the turnoff for Saint Jude’s, my stomach clenching as I think of the life we're leaving behind. No more lazy afternoons on the quad, no more midnight study sessions fueled by contraband vodka and dreams of the future. But, considering the alternative is Vesper being stuck as Dmitri’s heir machine, and us being, well, dead, it’s worth the sacrifice. Our world would never survive my uncle gaining this much power. Every other family would be forced to bend their knee to his will. We can’t let that happen.

I finally break the silence. "Zaire, we need to talk about the plan."

He nods, his eyes never leaving the road. "I know. This changes things. We need to loop everyone in.”

I take a deep breath, organizing my thoughts, while pulling out my phone and connecting it to Zaire’s touch screen. Alex picks up immediately.

“Your plan has gone to shit, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, and no,” I answer. “Victor's men are handling Vesper's transport, not us.”

“That complicates things, but it's not insurmountable," Talon chimes in. “We always knew this was a possibility.”

“Did you make the drop, Alex?” I ask.

“What drop?”

“Package was delivered with a bow early this morning.”

“Is someone going to fucking enlighten me here or are we playing twenty questions,” my twin barks back.

"Alex made friends with our uncle’s local driver the last time he was in town.”

Zaire's eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? How did he pull that off?"

“Turns out, he used to work for my dad before your uncle snatched him into service for a debt he owed. He’s been his personal driver for over two years now when he’s state side,” Alex adds.

“Which is almost never,” Zaire comments. “Why employ someone to drive you, when you have no intention of being here.”

I shoot my brother a knowing glare. “You and I both know why.”

“Kitty,” we answer in unison. Kitty, his mistress, is a Puerto Rican heiress with a geriatric husband on life support. His wife, Katerina, has never stepped foot outside of Russia. Per our father’s own admission, she kept his leash short at home. Having a mistress in another country was far easier to conceal. Safer, too, because Aunt Katerina may have just as much blood on her hands as Uncle Victor.

“So, his occasional driver that Alex befriended plays into this shit show situation, how?”

“Alex has been popping by before school to drop off a care package the last couple of weeks just in case we needed access to the car as Uncle Victor got closer to coming to terms with the Rossis.”

“Drugs, I’m assuming?”

“Bingo,” Alex adds to the conversation. “This morning, I may have ‘accidentally’ spilled my coffee all over the interior of his car. While he was cleaning it up, he tucked the phone under one of the back seats.”

"Clever bastard," Zaire mutters, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"That's not all," He continues, warming to the subject. "I also sabotaged the GPS system. It'll look like it's working fine, but it's actually feeding false data back to Victor's team. They'll think the car is heading straight for the airport even if Vesper manages to deviate from the route."

“We’re almost at the warehouse,” Zaire remarks. “Get the door open.” He ends the call after this last order. Zaire whistles low before glancing over at me. "You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

I shrug, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety in my stomach. "I've had a lot of sleepless nights to plan."

A sly grin tugs at his lips, pulling at the corners in a mischievous display. He teases, "You mean when you weren't playing the charming Romeo and scaling up Vesper's balcony?" I roll my eyes, choosing to ignore his playful jab. My fingers quickly tap out a message on my phone, reaching out to Vesper for some much-needed distraction from this conversation. I barely knew the girl outside of the briefest interactions at school until being thrust into her trajectory this week, but I can’t deny that screwing over my family and saving her isn't purely an act of heroism. Despite our brief acquaintance, something about Vesper draws me in like a moth to a flame. I can't resist her magnetic pull. And with Dmitri looming as a potential husband for her, it would be a travesty in more ways than one if they were to marry. My reasons for wanting to save her may be selfish, but I can't help but want her for myself. The few stolen moments we shared in that classroom have ignited a fire inside of me that refuses to be extinguished.

Be ready. Reset your phone and leave it behind. There’s a new one waiting for you in the car.

Zaire takes a sharp left, and suddenly we're on a narrow, potholed road that winds through an industrial district. Abandoned factories loom on either side, their broken windows staring at us like hollow eyes. The car fishtails slightly as we take another turn, and then I see it: our warehouse, a hulking concrete structure covered in graffiti and ivy. The large bay door opens when we pull into the drive. Zaire parks his car, and we both exit, heading towards our work area. The interior of the warehouse is a stark contrast to its dilapidated exterior. Banks of computer monitors cast a blue glow over sleek metal tables covered in maps, documents, and an arsenal that would make our father proud. And there, in the center of it all, stand Alexander and Talon.

Alex is hunched over a laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. His usually perfectly styled blond hair is a mess, and there are dark circles under his eyes. Talon, on the other hand, looks like he's gearing up for war.

“Is the safe house online?” I ask Talon as we approach.

“Security is up. All clear.” He nods to a couple of bags on the table next to him. “Clothes are in there.” Zaire and I both grab a bag, and strip down, discarding the clothes we left with onto the ground and changing into the black t-shirt, and jeans from inside the bag. Zaire leaves his clothes on the ground, but I neatly pack mine away.

“We look like a fucking K-pop group,” he remarks at our matching clothes.

“I kind of like it,” Talon smiles back at him.

Zaire and I huddle around Alex's workstation, the tension palpable in the air. The warehouse echoes with the hum of servers and the rapid-fire clicking of keys as Alex's fingers dance across the keyboard. Suddenly, his head snaps up, eyes wide behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

"The car just left the Rossi estate,", his voice tight with excitement and nerves.

A collective intake of breath fills the room. This is it. The moment we've been preparing for has finally arrived. Everything has been planned for down to the second. I feel a rush of adrenaline course through my veins, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom.

"Alright, people," Talon's deep voice reverberates through the space. "It's showtime."

We move with practiced efficiency, a well-oiled machine born of countless hours of preparation. Zaire and I head for the first car, a nondescript gray sedan that wouldn't look out of place in any suburban driveway. Talon takes the second, a black SUV with tinted windows. Both vehicles carefully selected from an impound lot two days ago, chosen for their unremarkable appearance and easily replaceable parts.

As I slide into the passenger seat of our car, I can't help but marvel at the intricate web of deception we've woven. Talon's meticulous work on swapping the plates, combined with Alex's digital wizardry in wiping them from the impound database, has bought us precious time. It's a delicate house of cards, but it's the best chance we have. Alex appears at the window, handing Zaire two small bundles before running back to Talon. Zaire opens the packages and hands me one. Inside, lies an earpiece. I slip it into place.

“Soundcheck. Everyone good?” Alex asks via the earpiece.

“Who’s ready to fuck shit up?” Talon squawks into the receiver.

“I’ll take that as an affirmative from Talon. Zaire? Oscar?”

“We hear you,” Zaire answers for us.

The warehouse door groans open, revealing the gritty industrial landscape beyond. Zaire guns the engine, and we peel out onto the cracked asphalt, Talon following close behind in the SUV. The morning sun glints off abandoned factories and rusted chain-link fences as we navigate the maze of back streets, keeping our distance from main roads and traffic cameras.

I glance at my brother, noting the hard set of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. Zaire has always been the more collected one, the ice to my fire. But now, I can see the cracks in his composure, the weight of what we're about to do pressing down on him.

"You okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods curtly, eyes never leaving the road. "Just thinking about what comes after. There's no coming back from this, Oz."

The gravity of his words settles over me like a heavy blanket. We're not just risking our lives today; we're burning bridges, cutting ties with everything and everyone we've ever known. Our family, our future, our very identities – all of it will be ash by sundown.

But then I think of Vesper, of the fire in her eyes and the strength in her spirit. I think of the world my uncle wants to create a world where families like ours rule with an iron fist and people like Vesper are nothing more than pawns. The resolve hardens in my chest.

"I know," I say, my voice steady. "But it's worth it. We have to do this."

Zaire's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "You really have fallen for her, haven't you?"

I feel heat rise to my cheeks but don't deny it. There's no point in hiding it from my twin. "She's different. Strong. She doesn't deserve the life they've planned for her."

"None of us do," Zaire mutters, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

We lapse into silence as we approach our first checkpoint. Alex's voice crackles through the earpiece I had forgotten I’d put in.

“I just uploaded the tracking software to each vehicle. You should only have a few seconds delay from my screen with the satellite uplink.”

The car's navigation system beeps softly, and I check the screen. "They're heading north," I report. "Looks like they're taking the scenic route."

"Perfect," Zaire mutters. He takes a sharp right, guiding us onto a narrow access road that runs parallel to the highway. We can see the steady stream of traffic to our left, a river of metal and exhaust fumes.

I take the chance to fire off a text to her new phone that Alex stashed in the car.

Put on your seatbelt and hold tight. Things are about to get interesting.

The car's engine purrs as we race along the access road, the scenery blurring into a smear of green and gray. Zaire's eyes are fixed on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity. I keep my gaze locked on the navigation screen, watching the blinking dot that represents Vesper's car as it moves steadily northward.

"Alex, how's it looking on your end?" I ask, pressing a finger to my earpiece.

"All clear so far," he replies, his voice tinged with static. "I've got eyes on the traffic cams and police scanners. Nothing unusual to report."

As we speed along, I can't help but think of Alex back at the warehouse. He'd insisted on staying behind, claiming he could do more good from there. I know he's right – his skills are better utilized in coordinating our efforts and monitoring the digital landscape – but a part of me wishes he were here with us. Still, someone needs to take care of the loose ends, including Zaire's distinctive Lamborghini. Alex had promised to give it a new paint job and swap out the plates before stashing it in a secure location. It's a small comfort, knowing that piece of our old lives will be waiting for us if we make it through this.

Suddenly, the dot on the screen veers sharply to the right. "Shit!" I exclaim. "They're changing direction!"

Zaire curses under his breath, scanning the road ahead for an opportunity to turn. But we're boxed in, concrete barriers on one side and a steep embankment on the other. "I can't turn here," he growls, frustration evident in his voice.

"There's an exit coming up in half a mile," I report, my heart racing. "We can loop back around."

The next thirty seconds feel like an eternity. As soon as we reach the exit, Zaire takes it at breakneck speed, the tires screeching in protest. He executes a flawless U-turn, and we're racing back the way we came, desperate to make up lost ground.

"Talon, what's your status?" I bark into the comm.

"I made the turn," he replies, his usually calm voice tight with tension. "But there's some kind of accident or construction up ahead. Traffic's at a standstill. I'm stuck."

My stomach drops. "Can you get around it?"

"Negative," Talon grunts. "It's completely blocked. You two need to find another route. I'll catch up when I can."

Zaire nods grimly, already scanning for alternate roads. "On it," he says, taking a sharp left onto a narrow side street.

We weave through a maze of residential areas, the houses blurring past in suburban monotony. I keep my eyes glued to the screen, calling out directions as we go. "Left here. Now right. Straight for two miles.”

The suburban landscape gives way to a more industrial area, warehouses and factories looming on either side of the narrow street. Zaire's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he navigates the unfamiliar territory.

"Alex, what's the status of Vesper's car?" I demand, my heart pounding in my ears.

There's a moment of tense silence before Alex's voice crackles through the earpiece. "They've stopped. About two miles ahead of your current position."

Relief floods through me, but it's short-lived. Zaire accelerates, the engine roaring as we tear down the empty street. We're so close. So damn close.

"Wait," Alex's voice cuts through again, panic evident in his tone. "The signal...it's gone. I've lost them."

"What do you mean, you've lost them?" I shout, panic clawing at my throat. "Alex, what the fuck is happening?"

"I don't know!" he yells back, the sound of furious typing coming through the comm. "The tracker just went dark. I'm trying to reestablish the connection, but?—.”

I don't hear the rest of what he says. My mind is racing, scenarios flashing through my head, each one worse than the last. Vesper captured, Vesper hurt, Vesper...

"Oscar!" Zaire's sharp voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. "Get it together. We're almost at their last known location."

I force myself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. "Right," I manage to say. "Right. Let’s just get there."

The next few minutes are a blur of tension and fear. Zaire pushes the car to its limits, taking corners at speeds that would make a professional driver nervous. I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, searching desperately for any sign of Vesper's car.

And then we see it.

The world seems to slow down as we round a corner and come face to face with the wreckage. The sleek black town car that was supposed to be transporting Vesper is upside down in the middle of the road, flames licking at its undercarriage. Smoke billows into the air, thick and acrid, stinging my eyes and catching in my throat.

"No," I whisper, the word barely audible over the roar of our engine and the crackling of flames. "No, no, no!"

Zaire slams on the brakes, bringing us to a screeching halt just yards from the burning wreck. Before the car has even fully stopped, I'm out the door, sprinting towards the inferno.

"Vesper!" I scream, my voice raw with desperation. "VESPER!"

The heat sears my skin as I reach the overturned car, the metal groaning and popping. Smoke chokes my lungs, but I push forward, desperate to reach Vesper. Zaire is right behind me, his face a mask of determination and fear. I rush towards the open passenger side door.

"Vesper!" I call out, my voice hoarse and desperate. "Vesper, can you hear me?"

But there's no response. No movement. No sign of life. Shattered glass crunches beneath our knees, and the smell of burning leather and plastic is overwhelming.

"She's not here," Zaire says, his voice tight with disbelief. "Oscar, she's not fucking here!"

I refuse to believe it, continuing to search even as the flames creep closer. "No, no, she has to be here. She has to be!"

But as the seconds tick by and the heat becomes unbearable, the horrible truth sinks in. The back seat is truly empty. Vesper is gone.

Zaire grabs my arm, pulling me back from the wreckage. "We have to go, Oz! This thing's going to blow!"

Numbly, I allow him to drag me away from the burning car. We stagger back, coughing and gasping for fresh air. My mind is reeling, unable to process what's happening. Where is she? How could she just vanish?

The screech of tires announces Talon's arrival. He leaps from his SUV, eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. "What the fuck happened?" he shouts over the roar of the flames.

"She's not in the car," I manage to choke out, my voice raw and broken. "Vesper's gone."

We’ve lost. After the promise I made to keep her safe, I’ve fucking lost her.