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

17. Vesper

VESPER

I wake with a start, my eyes flying open to an unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, I'm disoriented, unsure of how long I've been asleep. The room is bathed in a soft, golden light that filters through sheer curtains, and I realize with a jolt that I've slept without dreaming for the first time in years. The absence of nightmares leaves me feeling strangely hollow as if a part of me is missing.

Instinctively, I move to stretch my arms, expecting to feel the cold bite of metal against my wrists. But there's nothing. No shackles, no restraints. I blink, wondering if this is some new form of torture – the illusion of freedom. My gaze darts around the room, searching for Oscar's silhouette lurking in the shadows, but he's not there. The room is empty, save for the sparse furniture and the eerie silence that seems to press in on me from all sides.

Heart pounding, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. I pause, listening for any sign of movement in the house, but there's nothing. Slowly, I make my way to the door, my hand hesitating on the handle. I take a deep breath and turn it, half-expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it opens easily.

The hallway beyond is deserted, no guards, no watchful eyes. I move through the house like a ghost, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. Each room I pass is vacant, devoid of life or any sign of recent occupation. It's as if everyone has simply vanished, leaving me alone in this strange, silent world.

Finally, I reach the front door. My heart is hammering so loudly in my chest that I'm sure it will give me away, even though there's no one to hear it. With trembling fingers, I reach for the handle, expecting at any moment for alarms to blare or for rough hands to grab me. But nothing happens. The door swings open, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I step outside.

I take a tentative step forward, then another, my bare feet sinking into the soft grass. The blades tickle my toes, a sensation so foreign and yet so achingly familiar that it brings tears to my eyes. I wiggle my toes, reveling in the cool dampness of the earth beneath them. The heaviness that has weighed on my limbs for so long seems to melt away with each step I take.

I tilt my face upward, closing my eyes against the brilliance of the sun. Its warmth seeps into my skin, chasing away the perpetual chill that has clung to me in my captivity. I spread my arms wide as if I could embrace the entire sky, feeling the gentle resistance of the breeze against my palms. The wind plays with my hair, sending strands dancing across my face and neck in a teasing caress.

A bird calls in the distance, its song clear and sweet. I open my eyes, scanning the trees that border the property. There, perched on a branch, is a small sparrow. It cocks its head at me, curious and unafraid. For a moment, we regard each other. Two free creatures in a world suddenly full of possibility.

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the scent of fresh-cut grass and blooming flowers. The air tastes clean and crisp, so different from the stale, recycled atmosphere I've grown accustom. Each breath feels like a gift, a reminder of the life that still pulses within me despite everything.

My gaze falls to my wrists, now bare of the shackles that have been my constant companions. The skin there is pale and marked, a testament to the length of my captivity. I run my fingers over the indentations, marveling at the feel of my skin and the absence of cold metal. The freedom of movement is intoxicating, and I find myself spinning in a slow circle, arms outstretched, simply because I can.

As I turn, the world blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors: the vibrant green of the grass, the deep blue of the sky, the riot of hues from the flower beds that line the path. It's almost overwhelming after so long in the muted grays and blacks of my prison. I stop, dizzy with the beauty of it all, and sink to my knees in the grass.

I run my hands through the green blades, marveling at their smoothness. On impulse, I lie back, spreading my arms and legs wide as if to make a grass angel. The ground is firm beneath me, solid and real in a way that my world hasn't been for so long. I close my eyes, feeling the gentle caress of the sun on my face, the whisper of the wind in my hair, and the living earth beneath my body.

For a moment, I allow myself to simply exist in this perfect, peaceful bubble. I push away thoughts of the past and fears for the future. I ignore the questions that clamor for attention in the back of my mind. But my moment of peace is shattered as abruptly as it began. A shadow falls across my face, blocking out the sun's warmth. My eyes fly open, my heart leaping into my throat as I see two figures looming over me. Panic surges through my veins, icy and familiar.

"Vesper," a deep voice calls, tinged with concern. "Are you alright?"

I scramble backwards, my fingers digging into the soft earth. The world tilts and spins around me, the colors blurring together in a nauseating swirl. My limbs feel heavy, uncooperative, and a fog seems to settle over my thoughts.

"Shit, Z," another voice hisses. "I think you overdid it with the sedative."

Sedative. The word pierces through the haze in my mind. I wasn't free. This wasn't real. They had drugged me.

I try to stand, to run, but my legs buckle beneath me. Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground, and I find myself staring into a pair of striking silver eyes.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep voice says, hands raised in a placating gesture. "We're not here to hurt you."

I blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog from my mind. The world seems to tilt and spin, colors bleeding into one another. I shake my head, but it only makes the dizziness worse. A cold realization creeps over me.

"You...you drugged me," I accuse, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar to my own ears.

The taller of the two men steps forward, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry that I did that, but you were hurting yourself.”

I stare at him, my mind racing to catch up. There's something about those eyes, silver orbs ringed in blue. A memory tugs at the edges of my consciousness, like a half-forgotten dream.

"Z-Zaire?" I whisper, the name falling from my lips before I can even process where it came from.

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You remember."

As I look at him, really look at him, more memories come flooding back. The tattoos snaking up his arms. The way his stare cuts right through you.

As if summoned by his words, memories come flooding back. Zaire Petrov. The second son. The twin. Oscar’s brother. My gaze darts to the other man – Talon St. James, his familiar easy smile now taut with worry.

"You were supposed to save me," I say, my voice cracking. "You promised.” I shake my head, trying to clear away the last vestiges of the drug-induced fog.

A shadow of pain crosses Zaire's face. "I know. We tried. God, Vesper, we tried so hard. But Oscar-"

“He was the man in my room when you drugged me,” I recall.

I stare at Zaire, his words sinking in like stones in a still pond, rippling through my consciousness. The mention of Oscar sends a shiver down my spine, memories of his silhouette in my room flickering at the edges of my mind. Zaire's face softens, his eyes full of an emotion I can't quite place.

"It's probably best if you talk to him yourself and hear it from him."

I open my mouth to protest, but Talon steps forward, his easy smile a stark contrast to the tension in the air. "Hey, how about we get some food in you? You must be starving."

As if on cue, my stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but Talon just chuckles, the sound warm and familiar in a way that makes my chest ache.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says, extending his hand to me.

I hesitate, eyeing his outstretched palm warily. Part of me wants to refuse, to maintain this fragile distance between us. But another part, a part I thought long buried, yearns for the contact, for the comfort of a friendly touch.

Slowly, I place my hand in his. His skin is warm, calloused in places, and I can feel the strength in his grip as he helps me to my feet. The world tilts for a moment, my legs still unsteady from the lingering effects of the sedative, but Talon's arm wraps around my waist, steadying me.

"I've got you," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.

We make our way back into the house, my bare feet padding softly on the wooden floors. The kitchen is bright and airy, sunlight streaming through large windows that overlook a lush garden. Talon guides me to a chair at the table, his hand lingering on my shoulder for a moment before he moves away.

"Alright, let's see what we've got," he says, rummaging through the refrigerator. "How does grilled cheese sound? With tomato soup?"

The thought of real food, something other than the bland, tasteless meals I've become accustomed to, makes my mouth water. I nod, not trusting my voice.

As Talon busies himself at the stove, the sound of footsteps draws my attention. A man I don't recognize enters the kitchen, his blond hair mussed and eyes heavy with fatigue. He stops short when he sees me, surprise flickering across his face before it settles into a gentle smile.

"Vesper," he says, his voice rough with sleep. "It's good to see you up. I'm Alex. We've met before, but..." he trails off, running a hand through blonde hair. “I was there when your brother got his ass kicked. Sorry about that.”

"Luca?" I breathe, the name catching in my throat. "You've seen my brother?"

Alex's face falls, and I feel my heart sink. "We were trying to find him," I say, memories flooding back. "Before...before everything. You promised you'd help me find him."

Talon sets a steaming plate in front of me, the aroma of melted cheese and toasted bread making my stomach growl louder. But I can't take my eyes off Alex, silently pleading for answers.

"We've been looking," Alex says softly, pulling up a chair next to me. "But Vesper, I'm sorry. There's been no sign of him."

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of disappointment settle over me like a heavy blanket. When I open them again, I find Talon watching me with concern, a bowl of tomato soup in his hands.

"Eat," he says gently, placing the bowl next to my plate. "We can talk more after you've had something."

I nod, suddenly aware of the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. I pick up half of the grilled cheese sandwich, the butter glistening on the perfectly toasted bread. The first bite is like an explosion of flavor in my mouth. The sharp tang of the cheese, the crunch of the bread, the subtle hint of herbs. It's almost overwhelming after so many bland, tasteless meals.

I devour the sandwich in record time, barely pausing to breathe between bites. The soup is equally delicious, rich and creamy, with a hint of basil. I use the remaining half of my sandwich to soak up every last drop, savoring each mouthful. Talon retrieves my bowl and refills it.

“It’s okay to ask for more if you’re still hungry,” he reminds me.

As I eat, I'm acutely aware of the others watching me. Zaire leans against the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving my face. Talon busies himself cleaning up, but I can feel his gaze flicking to me every few seconds. And Alex sits quietly beside me, his presence both comforting and unsettling.

“You said I saw a doctor. Did they…find anything?”

“Your bloodwork is fine. Outside of the sedative in your system and some elevated hormone levels,” Zaire answers flatly.

“What about…?” I mutter, trying to figure out how to ask four men about my reproductive health. I had never talked about stuff like this with anyone. Not even my mother. “What about what they did to me? The Shadow Man, I mean.”

“The doctor would need to see you to be sure.”

The idea of going back to a sterile white room makes me shiver. Zaire catches my reaction.

“Whether or not you get physically examined is your choice.”

“What if I am pregnant?” I blurt out.

“You’re not,” Talon interjects through gritted teeth. “They gave you a contraceptive injection prior to the auction. There was also a certificate certifying your ‘intact’ status.”

Relief fills me quickly before embarrassment at the fact my captors had a certificate to certify they hadn’t defiled me. The thought that all four of them know I’m still a virgin is awkward to say the least.

“I have the file if you want to see it,” Talon declares.

“Burn it.” The last thing I want to see is a bill of sale for my body. It would make it too real.

I settle into a quiet silence. My soup is no longer steaming in front of me. Talon retrieves the bowl, dumping out the cold soup and replaces it with more from the pot. I focus on eating rather than the swirling, chaotic mess inside of my head.

When I finally set down my spoon, feeling full for the first time in what feels like forever, Alex clears his throat.

“Do you remember much about your time with them?”

Zaire immediately interrupts him. “Now is not the time, Alex. Let her enjoy her fucking meal.”

“Studies show that you remember more within the first day or so…”

“I don’t give a fuck about what study you’ve read, jackass. I said no.”

"What do you want to know?" I ask, my voice stronger now that I've eaten.

Zaire shifts uncomfortably, exchanging a glance with Talon. Alex takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. I'm about to press Alex for more information when the kitchen door swings open. My heart leaps into my throat as Oscar walks in, his piercing blue eyes immediately locking onto mine. The room falls silent, tension crackling in the air like static electricity.

Oscar looks different from how I remember. His hair is longer, brushing his collar, and there's a new hardness to his jaw. A thin scar runs along his left cheekbone, a stark reminder that time hasn't stood still while I was gone.

"It's good to see you awake." He takes a step towards me, and I flinch involuntarily. Oscar freezes, pain flashing across his face before his expression smooths into an unreadable mask. “About last night,” he starts.

“I already apologized,” Zaire interrupts.

“I’m glad, but that’s not what I was going to say,” he looks towards his twin before redirecting back to me. “I want to apologize for startling you. I should never have stayed in your room.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” he answers. “You’ve had your choices stripped away from you for so long, and I did the same fucking thing by staying there. It won’t happen again.”

"How long?" I ask, the question burning in my throat. "How long was I...?"

Oscar's eyes flicker to Zaire, then back to me. "Two years," he says softly. "You've been gone for two years."

The words hit me like a physical blow. Two years. Two years of my life, gone in what feels like the blink of an eye. I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white as the room spins around me.

"That's impossible," I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. "It can't have been that long."

But even as I say it, I know it's true. The changes in the men around me, the unfamiliarity of my own body. It all speaks to the passage of time. Two years of my life, stolen away.

"What happened?" I demand, my voice rising. "Where was I? Why didn't you come for me sooner?"

Oscar takes another step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Vesper, I know you have questions. We all do. But now might not be the best time to-.”

"Not the best time?" I interrupt, anger flaring hot in my chest. "When is the best time, Oscar? After another two years have passed?"

I push myself to my feet, ignoring the way my legs tremble beneath me. "I want to know everything. Now."

Oscar's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. "It's complicated, Vesper. A lot has changed while you were gone."

"Then un-complicate it," I snap, taking a step towards him. "I deserve to know what happened to me."

For a moment, Oscar looks like he might argue. Then his shoulders slump, defeat written in every line of his body. "You're right," he says quietly. "You do deserve to know. But Vesper, please understand that the truth is going to be painful to hear. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

I straighten my spine, squaring my shoulders despite the trembling in my limbs. The room seems to shrink around me, the air growing thick and heavy. I can feel the weight of their gazes. Oscar’s piercing blue eyes, Zaire's silver ones, Talon's concerned stare, and Alex's wary glance. Their silence is deafening, filled with unspoken truths and hidden pain.

"I've survived two years of God knows what," I say, a hint of steel creeping into my voice. "I can handle the truth."

Oscar's eyes cloud with pain as he begins to speak, his voice low and strained. "It was supposed to be simple," he says, running a hand through his hair. "We had everything planned down to the last detail. We were on our way to get you, to bring you to safety."

I lean forward, my heart pounding in my chest as I hang onto his every word. The kitchen seems to fade away, replaced by the vivid images Oscar's words paint.

"We were so close, Vesper," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when we got there, all we found was the wreckage of your car. It was a nightmare. The vehicle was completely destroyed, twisted metal and shattered glass everywhere. And you were gone."

I feel the blood drain from my face as I remember flashes of that day. The screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, and the world spinning out of control. My hands begin to shake, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself.

"We searched for you," Oscar says, his blue eyes intense with desperation. "For two years, we turned over every stone and followed every lead. We never stopped looking, Vesper. Never."

Zaire steps forward, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It was like chasing a ghost," he adds. "Every time we thought we were close, you'd slip through our fingers again."

"Then, about a week ago," Talon interjects, his face grim, "we got word about an auction. A secret, high-stakes event for the elite of the underworld."

My stomach churns as I begin to piece together what they're saying. "An auction," I repeat, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "For people?"

Oscar nods, his jaw clenched tight. "We didn't know for sure if you'd be there, but it was the best lead we'd had in months. We couldn't pass it up."

"So, you...bought me?" I ask, my voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and horror.

"We couldn't let anyone else get their hands on you," Zaire says fiercely. "We had to bring you home. It was the only way."

I close my eyes, trying to process the flood of information. Two years of my life are gone in what feels like the blink of an eye. Two years of captivity, of fear, and pain, and loneliness. All the while, these men had been searching for me, never giving up hope. But a nagging thought tugs at the back of my mind, a question I'm almost afraid to ask. I open my eyes, fixing my gaze on Oscar.

"My family," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did they...did they even try to look for me? My father wanted this alliance so badly. Badly enough he bowed down to your uncle’s demands, as you said he would. He wouldn’t just let me disappear without at least trying…"

The silence that falls over the room is deafening. Oscar and Zaire exchange a look that speaks volumes.

"Vesper, there's no easy way to say this," Zaire begins, his eyes never leaving mine. "Your father...he's dead."

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I stumble backward, my legs hitting the chair behind me. I grip the back of it, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to process what I've just heard.

"Dead?" I repeat, the word turns to dust on my tongue. "How? When?"

Oscar takes a step towards me, his hand outstretched as if to offer comfort, but he stops short. "It happened about a month after you disappeared," he says softly. “He was gone, and your Uncle Mario took his place. Our uncle told us that he took his own life out of the grief of losing you.”

“My father would never do that. Never,” I fire back. My mind reels, images of my father flashing before my eyes. His stern face, his rare smiles, the weight of his expectations always heavy on my shoulders. I think I loved him once, but that fleeting moment was gone a long time ago. Just like him now. “That can’t be true.”

“We doubt that it is the truth, but we have no way of verifying it.”

"And...and my mother?" I ask.

“She fled as soon as your father died. The last we heard, she went back to her family in Russia.”

The room spins, and I grip the wooden back, my knuckles turning white as I struggle to process this new information. My mother is gone. Fled back to Russia, leaving behind the remnants of our shattered family. The thought pierces my heart like a shard of ice, cold and sharp.

The words hit me like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep me away. "She abandoned me?" I whisper, my voice cracking with disbelief.

Talon steps forward, his warm brown eyes filled with sympathy. "Vesper," he says gently, "the entire world thought you were dead. Your parents...they even held a memorial service for you not long before your father died. We were there."

A memorial service. They had mourned me, buried an empty casket, and moved on with their lives while I was still out there, still fighting, still hoping for rescue. Tears well up in my eyes, hot and stinging. I try to blink them away, but they spill over, coursing down my cheeks in silent rivers. My chest heaves with silent sobs as the full weight of my loss crashes down upon me.

My family, the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally, to move heaven and earth to find me had simply accepted my death and moved on. While I was trapped in a living nightmare, they had continued with their lives, leaving me behind like a discarded memory.

But these four men - Oscar, Zaire, Talon, and Alex - they had never stopped searching. For two years, they had fought for me when my own flesh and blood had not. The realization is both comforting and devastating. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold the pieces of my shattered world together.

A thought hits me. “My engagement to Dmitri…”

“You don’t need to worry about him right now.”

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I flinch. Zaire recalls his hand immediately. “Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I mutter. “The last two years…the only time someone touched me was to take something away from me. I don’t know how to process touch as anything else.”

“Can I try something?”

I hesitate, my heart pounding. Every instinct screams at me to run, to hide, to protect myself. But Zaire's eyes are soft, concerned. Not like theirs. I nod, barely a movement.

Zaire reaches out slowly, telegraphing his intentions. His hand hovers over my shoulder, giving me time to pull away. I don't. I can't. I'm frozen, caught between terror and a desperate longing for gentle human contact.

His fingertips brush my skin, and I gasp. My body goes rigid, muscles clenching, preparing for pain. Memories flash through my mind—rough hands, cruel grips, bruising force. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the flashbacks away.

But Zaire's touch remains light, warm. He doesn't grab, doesn't hurt. Just rests his palm on my shoulder, a steady presence. Seconds tick by, each one an eternity. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the tension in my body begins to ebb.

I focus on my breathing, on the soft fabric of my shirt beneath his hand, on the faint scent of pine that clings to him. The present slowly reasserts itself, pushing back the shadows of the past.

My eyes flutter open. Zaire is still there, patient and calm. His thumb moves in small, soothing circles. The motion should be terrifying, but instead, it's...comforting. A tear slips down my cheek as I realize it's the first time in two years that touch hasn't meant pain.

"You're safe," Zaire murmurs. "I've got you."

And for the first time in a long time, I start to believe it might be true.