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

19. Oscar

OSCAR

I pace the hallway outside Vesper's room, my eyes darting to her closed door every few seconds. The black cat clock above the kitchen sink ticks away, each tick is a reminder of how long she's been in there. Hours since she returned from a walk with my brother.

Zaire leans against the wall, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. His usual smirk is absent, replaced by a furrowed brow that matches my own concern. "Oz, you need to relax. She’s fine. Let her sleep."

"I can't relax, Z. It's been hours." I run my hand through my hair, probably messing it up beyond repair. "What if something's wrong?"

Zaire pushes off the wall, his tattoos shifting with the movement. "Nothing's wrong, Oz. She's just tired. Considering what she’s been through, it’s amazing she can sleep.”

I want to believe him, but the knot in my stomach won't let me. The image of Vesper and Zaire returning from the beach keeps replaying in my mind. Her blonde hair had been windswept, cheeks flushed from the salty air. And her smile...God, that smile. It was like the sun breaking through storm clouds, bright and unexpected. A smile she had bestowed on him. Not me. She gave him something so precious that it’s killing me inside not to be the one to receive it.

She'd barely looked at me as she breezed past, disappearing into her room with a soft click of the door. That was hours ago, and I've been wearing a path in the hallway carpet ever since.

"You should have seen her out there, Oz," Zaire says, his voice softer now. "It was like watching a caged bird fly for the first time.

I clench my jaw, trying to swallow the bitterness rising in my throat. "And you were the one to witness it."

Zaire's eyes meet mine. "It wasn't about me, brother. It was about her."

I nod, but the jealousy still gnaws at me. I'm the planner, the strategist. I should have thought of taking her to the beach, of giving her a moment of peace amidst all this chaos. But it was Zaire, with his impulsive nature and devil-may-care attitude, who had given her what she needed. He’d been so close to giving up on her, while I...I gave up my entire life for the last two years to find her.

"I wish I could have seen it," I admit, leaning against the wall opposite Vesper's door.

Zaire's lips purse. A serious look crosses his face. "You will, Oz. This isn't a competition, you know. She needed air, and I gave it to her."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "She needs you now, huh?”

“For fucks sake, Oz. She came to me. Did you expect me to shove her away? After what she’s been through? You should be glad she’s opening up to someone.”

“I am, it’s just. I thought it would be me.”

“It still can be,” Zaire says, stepping closer to me. “Give her time.”

“You mean give you more time to take my place.”

“I will never take your place. Would it be so bad if she needs both of us? All of us? Her entire life as she remembers is gone now. She has no one, but us.”

Just then, we hear a soft rustling from behind Vesper's door. I straighten immediately, every nerve on high alert. But the door stays closed, and silence falls again.

"She's fine,” Z remarks. “Probably just turning over in her sleep. Now come on, let's grab something to eat. You look like you're about to pass out. Food might improve your mood."

I hesitate, my eyes still fixed on Vesper's door. Part of me wants to stay, to be here the moment she appears. I'm about to protest when the front door swings open, revealing Talon laden with grocery bags. His shaggy brown hair is pulled back in its usual man bun, and he's wearing that easy grin that makes everyone instantly like him.

"Honey, I'm home!" he calls out, his voice echoing through the house. "And I come bearing gifts!"

Zaire and I exchange a glance before moving to help him. As we unload the bags, I can't help but notice the ridiculous amount of ice cream cartons.

"Talon," I say, pulling out yet another pint, "did you buy out the entire frozen dessert section?"

He shrugs, that golden retriever smile still plastered on his face. "What? I didn't know what kind she likes, so I got...options." Even in the smallest details, he's trying to make her comfortable, to give her a sense of familiarity.

Zaire snorts, peering into one of the bags. "Options? Mate, you've got nine different flavors here. Nine!"

"Better safe than sorry," Talon replies, unfazed. "We've got classic vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, mint chip, cookie dough, rocky road, butter pecan, coffee, and what the hell is this? Lavender honey?"

I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Talon winks at me, his easy demeanor lightening the mood. "That's why you love me, Oz."

As we finish unpacking, Talon starts pulling out pots and pans. "I'm thinking pasta for dinner. Something hearty but not too heavy. How's that sound?"

Before we can answer, Alex walks in, his face etched with fatigue. He nods at us before collapsing onto one of the kitchen stools, setting his closed laptop on the table in front of him.

"Any luck?" I ask, even though I can already guess the answer from his expression.

Alex shakes his head, running a hand through his blond hair. "Nothing. I've been through every database I can access, called in favors from contacts across three continents. He’s a ghost or…”

"Or what?" I press, leaning forward.

"Or he doesn't exist," Alex finishes, running a hand through his hair. "At least, not under that name."

A chill runs down my spine. It's not unusual for people in our world to operate under aliases, but this level of anonymity is unsettling.

Talon pauses in his dinner preparations, his usually cheerful face serious. "That can't be good, right? I mean, someone has to know something about this guy."

"You'd think so," Alex says, his voice low. "But whoever he is, he's good at covering his tracks. Too good."

The kitchen falls silent, save for the sizzle of whatever Talon's cooking on the stove. The implications of Alex's words hang heavy in the air. If Johan isn't real, then who sold Vesper? And why use a fake name?

"So, we're back to square one," I mutter, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Not necessarily," Talon interjects, stirring something that smells deliciously of garlic and herbs. "We could ask Vesper. She might remember something, anything that could give us a lead."

I feel my jaw clench involuntarily. The thought of putting Vesper through more trauma makes my stomach churn. "Her memory is foggy at best," I explain, trying to keep my voice level. "She spent the bulk of the last two years sedated. If she remembers something, there's no telling if it's real or something that happened in her head."

The kitchen falls silent again, save for the soft bubbling of Talon's pasta sauce. I can see the wheels turning in everyone's minds, searching for a solution, a thread we haven't pulled yet.

"What about the egg harvesting?" Zaire asks suddenly, his eyes intense. "Could we try that route? Maybe they were sold."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The egg harvesting. It's a lead we haven't fully explored yet. The thought of Vesper's eggs being sold, of potential children out there somewhere, makes me feel sick. But it's a possibility we can't ignore.

"It's worth looking into," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But we'd need to be careful. If word gets out that we're asking questions about black market fertility clinics, it could tip off whoever's behind this."

Alex nods, already pulling out his laptop. "I'll start digging, see if I can find any unusual transactions, or new clinics popping up in the last two years." As Alex starts typing furiously, I lean back against the counter, my mind racing. The house suddenly feels too small, too confining. The walls seem to close in, reminding me of all the ways we're trapped - by our families, by our pasts, by this impossible situation.

I glance towards Vesper's closed door again, wondering what she's dreaming about. Is she reliving the horrors of the past two years? Or is she finally finding some peace in sleep?

Talon's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Dinner's almost ready. Should we wake her up?"

I hesitate, torn between wanting to see her and wanting to let her rest. Zaire shoots me a look, reminding me of our conversation earlier. "Let's give her a few more minutes," I decide. "She needs all the rest she can get."

As Talon begins plating the pasta, the rich aroma of garlic and tomatoes filling the air, I can't help but marvel at the strange family we've become. A group of second sons and a stolen daughter, all trying to navigate this dangerous world we were born into.

As we settle around the kitchen table, the sound of soft whimpers breaks through the quiet. My head snaps toward Vesper's door, heart racing. The whimpers grow louder, transforming into muffled screams.

"Vesper!" I'm on my feet in an instant, bolting to her room. I throw open the door, the others close behind.

Vesper thrashes on the bed, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. Her long blonde hair is matted to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, please...stop!" she cries out, her voice raw with terror.

I rush to her side, hesitating for a moment before gently grasping her shoulders. "Vesper, wake up. It's just a dream."

Her eyes fly open, wild and unfocused. For a terrifying moment, she doesn't seem to recognize me. “No. No. No. Don’t touch me.” Then clarity floods her gaze, followed quickly by shame. She curls into herself, body shaking with silent sobs.

"It's okay," I murmur. “You're safe now."

Zaire appears on her other side, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by genuine concern. "We've got you, sweetheart," he says softly, placing a comforting hand on her back. She leans into him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. The sight of her seeking comfort in my brother is almost too much to bear.

Talon hovers in the doorway, his face a mask of worry. "I'll get some water," he says, disappearing down the hall.

As Vesper's sobs subside, she pulls away slightly, wiping at her face. "I'm sorry," she whispers, voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to..."

"Don't apologize," I interrupt gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She nods, but I can see the doubt in her eyes. Talon returns with a glass of water, which she accepts gratefully. As she sips, I notice the tremors in her hands.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Zaire asks carefully.

Vesper shakes her head, then pauses. "I was back there. In that room. But this time, it wasn't just me. There were children. My children. They were taking them away, and I couldn't...I couldn't stop them."

The room falls silent, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. I exchange a glance with Zaire, both of us thinking about our earlier conversation about the egg harvesting.

"It was just a dream," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "No one's going to take anything from you ever again. We won't let them."

She offers a weak smile, but I can see the fear lingering in her eyes. "What if...what if it wasn't just a dream? What if they really did...?"

"We'll figure it out," Talon says firmly, stepping closer. "Whatever happened, whatever they did, we'll deal with it.”

I watch as Vesper's cheeks flush with embarrassment, her gaze dropping to the tangled sheets. The vulnerability in her eyes tugs at my heart, and I wish I could erase every painful memory from her mind.

Talon, ever perceptive, notices her discomfort. He steps forward, his easy smile returning. "Hey, don't worry about it. We all have nightmares sometimes. Just last week, I woke up screaming because I dreamt I was being chased by a giant slice of pizza."

Vesper looks up, confusion replacing embarrassment. "A pizza?"

"Oh yeah," Talon continues, warming to his story. "It was terrifying. All that cheese, threatening to smother me. And don't even get me started on the pepperoni. Those things were like ninja stars."

A small giggle escapes Vesper's lips, the sound like music to my ears. It's been so long since I've heard her laugh.

"And then," Talon says, gesturing wildly, "just when I thought it was all over, the crust started singing opera…in Italian. Which, let me tell you, is not as romantic as it sounds when it's coming from a homicidal pizza."

This time, Vesper's laugh is fuller, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. The sound fills the room, chasing away the lingering shadows of her nightmare. I can't help but join in, Zaire's deep chuckle harmonizing with Talon's infectious guffaw.

As our laughter subsides, I notice Vesper's stomach growl softly. "Hey," I say gently, "are you hungry? Talon made pasta, and I'm pretty sure he bought out an entire ice cream shop for dessert."

Vesper's eyes widen slightly. "Ice cream?"

"Nine flavors," Zaire chimes in, smirking. "Our golden boy here couldn't decide, so he got them all."

Talon shrugs, unabashed. "What can I say? I'm a man of many tastes."

She nods, a hint of shyness creeping back into her expression. "I...I could eat."

"Great!" Talon exclaims, clapping his hands together. "I made enough to feed an army. Or, you know, five people with varying degrees of emotional trauma and questionable eating habits."

We make our way to the kitchen, where Alex has already set the table. The aroma of garlic and herbs fills the air, making my mouth water. Vesper hesitates for a moment before taking a seat, her eyes darting around as if seeking permission.

"Go ahead," I encourage her, pulling out a chair. "Dig in."

We settle around the table, and I can't help but marvel at the scene. Just days ago, we weren't sure if we'd ever see Vesper again, let alone share a meal with her. Now here we are, passing bread and ladling out pasta as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

Vesper takes a tentative bite of the pasta, and her eyes widen. "This is delicious," she says, looking at Talon with newfound respect.

He grins, clearly pleased. "See? I told you guys my cooking would win her over."

“To be fair, you actually had me at ice cream.”

I watch as Talon springs up from the table, his enthusiasm palpable. He practically bounces to the freezer, pulling out pint after pint of ice cream. The colorful containers create a rainbow of frozen delights as he arranges them in front of Vesper with a flourish.

"Your choices, milady," he announces with an exaggerated bow. "From the classic to the exotic, we have it all."

Vesper's eyes widen, a childlike wonder spreading across her face. It's a stark contrast to the haunted look she wore just moments ago. She leans forward, examining each flavor with careful consideration. To my surprise, she reaches for the lavender honey.

"Excellent choice," Talon beams, his grin threatening to split his face in two. He turns to Zaire, waggling his eyebrows triumphantly. "See that, Z? I told you the fancy flavors were a good idea."

Zaire responds with a raised middle finger, but I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head, golden boy."

Talon just laughs, grabbing a spoon and handing it to Vesper with a flourish. "Your implement of ice cream destruction, my lady."

Vesper accepts the spoon with a shy smile, and I watch as she carefully removes the lid. The pale purple ice cream inside looks almost ethereal, tiny flecks of lavender visible in the creamy swirls.

She takes a small spoonful, closing her eyes as she tastes it. For a moment, the kitchen is silent, all of us waiting with bated breath for her reaction. When she opens her eyes, there's a spark there that I haven't seen in years. "It's...amazing," she breathes, already going in for another bite.

Talon whoops, pumping his fist in the air. "Score one for Team Talon! Who's the ice cream king now, huh?"

As Talon distributes the ice cream, I lean back in my chair, watching the scene unfold before me. Vesper's face is alight with childlike joy as she savors each spoonful of the lavender honey concoction. Zaire and Talon flank her on either side, their usual bravado softened into something gentler, more protective.

Alex joins in, his earlier fatigue momentarily forgotten as he samples each flavor, offering comical commentary on the merits of each. The kitchen is filled with laughter and warmth, a stark contrast to the tension that's been our constant companion.

I should be happy. I am happy, in a way. Seeing Vesper smile and hearing her laugh. It's more than I dared hope for just a few days ago. But there's an ache in my chest, a gnawing feeling that I can't quite shake.

Zaire catches Vesper's eye, and they share a private smile. It's subtle, barely there, but it speaks volumes about the connection they forged during their beach walk. I remember Zaire's words from earlier: ‘It was like watching a caged bird fly for the first time.’ The image burns in my mind, a reminder of what I missed, what I couldn't give her.

Then there's Talon, with his easy charm and golden retriever energy. He's telling some outrageous story now, gesticulating wildly with his spoon, sending droplets of melted ice cream flying. Vesper giggles, a sound so pure and unexpected that it makes my heart clench. Talon beams at her, clearly thrilled to be the source of her amusement.

I feel a pang of guilt for the jealousy course through me. This isn't about me. It's about Vesper, about her healing, her safety. She needs this, needs them. Their lightheartedness, their ability to make her forget, even for a moment, the horrors she's endured.

But a traitorous part of my mind whispers, "It should have been you." I've spent the last two years searching for her, planning, strategizing, sacrificing everything to bring her home. In my darkest moments, I'd imagined our reunion. I dreamed of how I'd be the one to make her feel safe, to bring that light back into her eyes.

Instead, I find myself on the outside looking in. I watch as Vesper leans into Zaire's side, her body relaxing in a way it hasn't since we found her. Talon reaches across the table to squeeze her hand, and she doesn't flinch away.

The guilt intensifies. I should be grateful that she's found comfort and that she's beginning to trust again. I am, truly. But the selfish part of me aches to be the one she turns to, the one who can chase away her nightmares.

Maybe I'm not the hero of Vesper's story, but I can still be a part of it. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.