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

10. Vesper

VESPER

The first thing I notice is the throbbing pain in my head, a relentless pounding that seems to reverberate through my entire body. It's as if a thousand drums are beating all at once. I try to pry open my eyes but find them covered by something thick and dark—a blindfold. Panic tugs at my heartstrings as flashes of broken glass and screeching tires flood my mind.

My attempts to move are met with resistance; my limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. A cold, biting rope digs into my wrists, keeping me restrained. As I take in my surroundings, I realize I am lying on a bed. The sheets beneath me carry an unfamiliar scent, a mix of musty fabric and antiseptic.

With each passing moment, more sensations become apparent. My ribs ache with every breath, and a dull throb pulses through my left leg. Dried blood crusts against the side of my face, causing discomfort as it pulls against my skin.

Desperate for escape, I fight against my bonds with all my might, ignoring the searing pain that shoots through my body. The sound of creaking wood fills the air as I twist and pull on the bed frame, hoping to break free.

But then, a gravelly voice breaks through the silence, startling me. It's close, perhaps just a few feet away. "I wouldn't bother if I were you," the voice says. "Resisting won't help your situation, Ms. Rossi. You might as well get comfortable."

I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. The voice is unfamiliar, masculine, with a hint of amusement that sends chills down my spine.

"You're going to be with us for a while," he continues, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor indicating he's standing up. "I’d apologize that the accommodations aren’t what you’re accustomed to, but, you’ll get used to it.”

My mind races, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of my memory. Oscar and Zaire—had they betrayed me? Was this their plan all along?

The room falls silent, save for the sound of heavy footsteps circling the bed. I can feel the presence of multiple people. The air feels thick with tension, making it difficult to breathe.

"Oscar?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and barely audible. "Zaire? Is that you?"

A burst of laughter erupts from multiple directions, startling me. It's a cruel, mocking sound that sends shivers down my spine.

"Oh, that's rich," another voice chimes in, different from the first. This one is higher-pitched, with a hint of a foreign accent I can't quite place. "She thinks we're her little friends."

Confusion washes over me. If not Oscar and Zaire, then who? The realization that I'm in the hands of complete strangers hits me like a bucket of ice water.

Swallowing hard, I gather what little courage I have left. "Who are you?" I ask, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound strong.

The laughter intensifies, echoing off the walls and seeming to close in around me. It's as if my question are the punchline to some sick joke I'm not privy to.

"Who we are doesn't matter, sweetheart," the gravelly voice from earlier responds, now uncomfortably close to my ear. "What matters is who you are, and what you're worth."

Fear grips me, and I begin to plead, my words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Please, let me go. I-I won't tell anyone about this. My family—they'll pay whatever you want. Just please, don't hurt me."

A calloused hand roughly grabs my chin, forcing my head up despite the blindfold. "Oh, we know they'll pay," he says, his breath hot against my face. "But why settle for a one-time payout when we can milk this for all it's worth?"

The other voice chimes in again, "That's right, darling. Your life—and that virgin pussy of yours—are far too valuable to just send you back to daddy or your dear fiancé."

My stomach churns at their words, the implications sending waves of terror through my body. I try to pull away, but the hand on my chin tightens its grip.

"You see," the gravelly voice continues, "we're in the business of making money. And you, Ms. Rossi, are going to make us very, very rich."

The realization hits me like a freight train, leaving me breathless and trembling. They’re going to traffic me.

"What do you mean?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Let me explain," the gravelly voice continues, releasing my chin. I hear him pacing around the room, his footsteps echoing ominously. "You're not just any rich girl, are you? You're Vesper Rossi, the jewel of the Rossi crime family. Do you have any idea how many people would pay a fortune just to have a piece of you?"

The other man chuckles, a sound that makes my skin crawl. "Oh, the bidding war we could start. Rival families looking to humiliate the Rossis, perverts with too much money and a taste for the forbidden, intelligence agencies hungry for insider information."

"And let's not forget," the first man adds, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "the ultimate prize - your hand in marriage. Imagine the power someone could wield with you as their bride. The connections. The influence. It's intoxicating."

My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of my vulnerability. I try to speak, but my throat constricts, choking back the words.

"But why stop there?" the accented voice muses. "We could auction off different aspects of your life. Your virginity to the highest bidder, your skills and knowledge to another, your future children to someone else. The possibilities are endless."

The room feels like it is spinning.

"And don't think daddy dearest or your Russian prince will save you," the gravelly voice warns. "We have friends in high places: eyes and ears everywhere. One wrong move from them, and you'll disappear forever."

I feel a hand stroke my hair, the gesture mockingly gentle. "But don't worry, princess. We'll take good care of you. Keep you healthy, beautiful...marketable. After all, damaged goods don't sell as well."

Suddenly, I feel a sharp prick in my arm. A needle. Panic surges through me as I realize they're drugging me.

"Sweet dreams, Ms. Rossi," the accented voice says, already sounding distant. "When you wake up, your new life begins."