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

18. Vesper

VESPER

After an embarrassingly long time of Zaire touching my shoulder, testing my limits of touch, I excuse myself and step out onto the weathered porch, the old boards creaking beneath my feet like a mournful lament. The midday sun beats down, harsh and unforgiving, much like the truths I've just been forced to swallow. I sink onto the rickety swing, its rusted chains groaning in protest, and let my gaze wander over the overgrown yard.

Wildflowers push through cracks in the concrete path, their vibrant petals a stark contrast to the gray paint of the beach house. It's a far cry from the opulent Rossi mansion I once called home, yet at this moment, it feels more real than anything I've known in the past two years.

Two years. The words echo in my mind, each repetition a fresh wound. Two fucking years of my life gone. Gone, like my family now. Father’s dead. Mother is God knows where. Luca is still missing.

A terrifying thought sinks into my mind. What if Luca was with The Shadow Man, too? What if they were…the thought of my brother enduring what I had makes my stomach retch. I barely make it to the edge of the porch before I can’t hold it back. The acrid taste of bile burns my throat as I heave into the overgrown bushes, their leaves trembling with each violent spasm. My fingers grip the splintered wood of the porch railing, knuckles white with strain. The sound of retching must have carried because suddenly the screen door slams open behind me. Oscar's footsteps thunder across the porch, and I feel his warm hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles. I stiffen under his touch, and he withdraws his hand.

"Vesper, are you alright?" His voice is laced with concern, but it only makes me feel worse.

I straighten up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm fine," I snap, hating how weak I sound and how helpless I feel.

Zaire appears in the doorway, his gaze taking in the scene. There's something in his gaze, a flicker of understanding that makes my chest tighten. He looks at Oscar and nods slightly, some unspoken communication passing between the twins.

"I'll get you some water," Oscar says, retreating into the house.

Zaire steps onto the porch, his presence solid and grounding. "Want to take a walk?" he asks, his voice low and calm. "Might help clear your head."

I glance down at my bare feet, toes curling against the rough wood. "I don't have any shoes," I mutter, embarrassed by how unprepared I am for even the simplest things.

Without a word, Zaire disappears into the house. He returns moments later with a pair of well-worn boots, setting them down in front of me. "They might be a bit big, but they'll do."

I slip them on, the leather soft and warm against my skin. They smell faintly of pine and motor oil, an oddly comforting scent. As I stand, Zaire offers his arm, not insisting but simply making it available if I need it.

For a moment, I hesitate. Then, swallowing my pride, I loop my arm through his. Together, we descend the creaky steps and set off down the overgrown path, leaving behind the beach house and the bitter taste of my fears, if only for a little while.

As we walk, the tall grass brushes against my legs, tickling my skin through the fabric of my jeans. The path is narrow, barely visible, a testament to how rarely it's used. Wildflowers dot the landscape, splashes of purple and yellow amidst the sea of green. Their sweet scent mingles with the earthy aroma of damp soil and sun-warmed grass.

The ground beneath our feet gradually changes from soft earth to gravel, crunching with each step. I can hear it now, a rhythmic whisper growing louder with each passing moment, the sound of waves lapping against a shore. The salty tang of sea air fills my lungs, sharp and invigorating.

Zaire's arm is warm against mine, his steady presence a silent comfort as we navigate the uneven terrain. I steal a glance at him, noticing how the sunlight catches the dark rings in his eyes, making them seem to glow. His face is set in concentration, jaw clenched slightly as if he's deep in thought.

We round a bend, and suddenly, the world opens up before us. The grass gives way to a rocky shoreline, jagged stones of various sizes scattered across the beach. The water stretches out to the horizon, a vast expanse of deep blue meeting the lighter hue of the sky. White-capped waves roll in, crashing against the larger rocks with a thunderous roar before retreating, leaving behind a frothy residue.

Zaire guides me carefully down a natural stairway formed by flat stones, his hand on my elbow to steady me. The boots, slightly too big, slap against the rocks with each step. We pick our way across the beach until we reach the water's edge, where the pebbles are smooth and gleaming, polished by countless tides.

I bend down, picking up a flat stone and turning it over in my hand. It's cool to the touch, its surface marbled with streaks of gray and white. Without thinking, I fling it towards the water, watching as it skips once, twice, three times before sinking beneath the waves.

"Nice throw," Zaire comments, his voice barely audible over the crash of the waves.

I turn to look at him, and our eyes meet. There's something in his gaze, an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat. He's watching me closely, his eyes roaming over my face as if searching for something. I wonder what he sees - a broken girl, trying desperately to piece herself back together? Or something else entirely?

The wind whips my hair around my face, and I tuck a strand behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "What?" I ask, my voice coming out harsher than I intended.

Zaire shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nothing," he says softly. “It's good to see you out here. Away from everything. Oscar threw a lot at you all at once. Hearing all of that had to be hard.”

I let out a long, shaky breath, my eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea meets the sky. The vastness of it all makes me feel small, but, strangely, not insignificant. "It was hard," I admit, my voice barely audible over the rhythmic crash of waves. "But..."

I pause, searching for the right words. The salt-laden breeze caresses my face, carrying with it the calls of distant seabirds. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the sounds and smells of the ocean wash over me. When I open them again, I find Zaire watching me intently, his silver eyes patient and understanding.

"My entire life has been dictated to me since the beginning," I continue, the words tumbling out like the tide rushing to shore. "Who I could be friends with, what I could wear, how I should act. Even my future was mapped out for me: a marriage to Dmitri, a life confined within the gilded cage of the Petrov family.”

I bend down, picking up another smooth stone. It’s cool weight in my palm grounds me as I speak. "And then...the last two years." My voice catches, and I have to swallow hard before continuing. "I had no choices again. None. They were all made for me, by...by him."

The stone flies from my hand, arcing through the air before plunging into the water with a satisfying plop. Zaire remains silent, giving me space to find my words.

"But you and Oscar...you gave me a choice," I say, turning to face him fully. The wind whips my hair around my face, and I push it back impatiently. "You could have kept me in the dark, protected me from the truth. But you didn't.”

Zaire nods slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "It was your right to know," he says simply.

I laugh, a short, bitter sound that's quickly swallowed by the crash of waves. "My right? Do you know how foreign that concept is to me? To have rights, to have choices?"

I start pacing along the water's edge, my borrowed boots leaving deep imprints in the wet sand. Each step feels like a small act of defiance against the life that was planned for me. "It was a lot to take in, and I'm still processing it all. The truth about my father, about Luca, about everything that's happened while I was...away."

I stop abruptly, turning to face Zaire again. He's watching me with an intensity that should make me uncomfortable, but instead, it makes me feel seen. Truly seen, perhaps for the first time in my life.

"But it's the first time someone has given me a choice," I say softly. "The first time in so long that I've felt like...like a person, not a pawn. Even though it hurts, I'm grateful for the truth," I finish, my voice barely above a whisper.

Zaire nods, his eyes softening with understanding. We stand in silence for a moment, the rhythmic crash of waves filling the air between us. A gull cries overhead, wheeling against the cerulean sky, its wings catching the sunlight like polished silver.

I take a deep breath, the salty air filling my lungs, and turn to face Zaire fully. "Can I ask you something?" The words come out hesitantly, my voice barely audible over the ocean's roar.

He raises an eyebrow, a silent invitation to continue. The wind ruffles his dark hair, longer than his brother's, and I find myself momentarily distracted by the way it curls slightly at the nape of his neck.

"What happened after I was taken?" I ask, the question hanging heavy in the air between us. "With Dmitri, I mean."

Zaire's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. He turns away, bending to pick up a smooth, flat stone. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he sends it skipping across the water's surface; one, two, three, four times before it sinks beneath the waves.

"It was chaos," he says finally, his voice low and gravelly. "Uncle Victor blamed your father, said the Rossi’s had orchestrated your disappearance to break the engagement. Your father, of course, denied it vehemently. He accused the Petrovs of being behind it all."

I close my eyes, imagining the chaos that must have ensued. The shouting matches, the threats, the barely contained violence simmering beneath the surface of forced civility. When I open them again, Zaire is watching me, his eyes filled with a mix of concern, and something else I can't quite place.

"The alliance was broken," he continues, running a hand through his hair. "Shattered, really. Both families retreated to lick their wounds and plot their next moves. It was tense, to say the least."

I nod, processing this information. The wind picks up, whipping my hair around my face, and I tuck it behind my ear impatiently. "And Dmitri?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. "What happened to him?"

Zaire's lips twist into a wry smile, devoid of any real humor. "Unfortunately, my dear cousin is still very much alive," he says, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "Last we heard through the grapevine, he's engaged."

My heart skips a beat, though I'm not sure why. It's not like I harbored any real feelings for him.

"Engaged?" I repeat, the word tasting strange on my tongue. "Who's the unlucky girl?"

Zaire shakes his head, his eyes scanning the horizon as if searching for answers in the endless expanse of sea and sky. "We don't know," he admits, his voice tinged with frustration. "After everything that happened, Victor cut off our father for failing to deliver you. Without Victor’s backing, they took what money they had and fled overseas. We haven't heard from them since."

"So, you're outcasts," I murmur, more to myself than to Zaire. "Like me."

I feel his presence shift beside me, his warmth radiating through the space between us. When I turn to look at him, his expression is intense, a fire burning behind those silver eyes.

"No," he says firmly, his voice low and resolute. "We're the Second Sons."

The term hangs in the air between us, heavy with a meaning I don't yet understand. I raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to explain.

Zaire takes a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the rugged coastline before settling back on me. "After everything fell apart, the four of us - Oscar, Talon, Alex, and me - we banded together to make our own family."

He bends down, picking up another smooth stone and turning it over in his hands as he speaks. "We were all second sons, you see. Never destined to inherit, always living in the shadows of our older brothers or cousins. But we saw an opportunity in our shared experiences, in our desire for something more than what our families had planned for us."

With a practiced flick of his wrist, he sends the stone skipping across the water's surface. One, two, three, four, five times it bounces before disappearing beneath the waves.

"We created a safe haven," he continues, his voice taking on a note of pride. "A place for the second sons of family mafias around the world. Those who wanted to forge their own paths."

I listen, mesmerized, as Zaire paints a picture of their organization. The wind dies down as if nature itself is leaning in to hear his words.

"We operate differently from traditional families," he explains. "No strict hierarchies, no blind loyalty to a single leader. We make decisions together, pool our resources and skills. We're attempting to build a network that spans continents, Vesper. A network we can use to protect our own, to right wrongs, to challenge the old ways of doing things."

"That network is how you found me," I say, a hint of wonder in my voice. The realization settles over me like a warm blanket, comforting yet somehow overwhelming.

Zaire's eyes soften, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. "Actually," he says gently, "it wasn't the network that found you. It was Oscar."

I blink, surprised. "Oscar?"

Zaire nods, his gaze drifting out to sea. He never stopped looking for you, Vesper. Not for a single day."

The words hit me like a wave, threatening to sweep me off my feet. I turn away, staring at the horizon where the sky meets the sea in a hazy, indistinct line. The wind picks up, carrying with it the briny scent of seaweed and the distant cry of gulls.

"Two years," I whisper, more to myself than to Zaire. "He searched every day for two whole years?"

"Every lead, every rumor, every whisper," Zaire confirms, his voice low and steady. "He chased them all down, no matter how unlikely. When the rest of us were ready to give up hope, Oscar refused. He said he could feel it in his bones that you were still out there, still alive."

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the enormity of Oscar's dedication. The wind whips my hair around my face, tendrils of it sticking to my salt-dampened cheeks. I shiver, suddenly aware of how cold I've become.

Zaire notices, his brow furrowing with concern. "The sea breeze is picking up. You're cold," he observes, already shrugging off his jacket. "We should head back to the house."

He drapes the jacket over my shoulders, its warmth and weight grounding me against the turbulent thoughts swirling in my mind. The leather is soft, worn from use, and it carries his scent; a mixture of sandalwood, leather, and coffee.

"Just…a few more minutes," I plead, my eyes fixed on the horizon where the angry sky meets the restless sea. "Please."

Zaire regards me for a long moment, his silver eyes searching my face. Then, his expression softens, and he nods. "Of course," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "It's your choice, Vesper. It's always going to be your choice from now on."