Page 111 of All The Pretty Little Lies

I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. The weight of everything that's happened, everything I've learned, still presses down on me, threatening to drag me under again.

“Tell me what you need, moya koroleva. Give me a purpose."

As I look into Zaire's pleading eyes, something stirs within me. A spark ignites, growing into a flame that threatens to consume everything in its path. The numbness that had enveloped me begins to recede, replaced by a fierce, burning rage.

"My son," I whisper, my voice growing stronger with each word. "I want my son."

The men exchange glances, a mixture of surprise and determination crossing their faces.

"And I want them to pay," I continue, my hands clenching into fists. "My uncle, Bianca. I want them to suffer for what they've done."

Oscar's eyes harden, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Consider it done, my love."

As I speak, images flood my mind, a little boy with my green eyes and a mischievous smile. I imagine his laughter echoing through the halls of this penthouse, his tiny hand clasped inmine as we walk through the park. The thought of him out there, alone and unaware of his mother's existence, fills me with a desperate longing.

"He must be so beautiful," I murmur, more to myself than the others. "Do you think he has my eyes? Or my smile?"

Zaire's grip on my hand tightens. "We'll find out soon enough, moya koroleva. We'll bring him home to you."

The idea of home takes on a new meaning now. It's no longer just a place, but a feeling. The warmth of my son in my arms, the security of these three men surrounding me with their love and protection.

"I want to see the fear in their eyes," I say, surprising myself with the venom in my voice. "I want them to know what it feels like to be helpless, to have everything they love torn away from them."

Oscar nods, his eyes glinting dangerously. "We'll give you that, Vesper. We'll give you everything."

OSCAR

I step away from Vesper,my heart heavy as I leave her in the capable hands of Zaire and Talon. The weight of what I’m about to do settles on my shoulders like a lead blanket. As I move through the dimly lit hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet, I catch sight of Alex emerging from the basement door.

The sight of him stops me dead in my tracks. Alex’s shirt is stained with Natasha's blood. His face is a mask of grim determination, but I can see the slight tremor in his hands as hewipes them on a handkerchief. When we’d left him downstairs, there wasn’t a drop on him.

"Alex," I call out, my voice barely above a whisper. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine.

“It’s taken care of,” he mutters on instinct. “The chemicals are working right now.”

“Good,” I remark. “But, we need to make a call," I say, closing the distance between us. The metallic scent of blood clings to him, making my stomach churn. "I need you to find the right number."

Alex nods, understanding the gravity of what I'm asking without needing further explanation. We've reached a point of no return, and this call will set in motion events that will change everything.

As we move towards Alex’s room where his tech toys live, I can't help but glance back towards the room where I left Vesper. The muffled sounds of Zaire's reassuring murmurs and Talon's soft laughter drift down the hallway. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine a different world—one where we're not caught in this web of violence and deceit.

But that world doesn't exist for us. Not yet.

Alex nods solemnly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and apprehension as we enter his room. The space is a stark contrast to the rest of the safehouse, a haven of cutting-edge technology amidst the worn, vintage decor. Walls lined with monitors cast an eerie blue glow across our faces, the soft hum of multiple computers creating a white noise that seems to isolate us from the outside world.

With practiced ease, Alex slides into his chair, fingers flying across the keyboard. The screens before us come alive with scrolling data, each keystroke bringing us closer to our target. I lean against the desk, my eyes fixed on the digital labyrinth unfolding before us.

"Who am I looking for, Oscar?" Alex asks, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic tapping of keys.

I take a deep breath, the name feeling like lead on my tongue. "Mario Rossi."

Alex's fingers freeze mid-air, his head snapping towards me, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you sure that's the right move?"

I meet his gaze steadily, the weight of my decision evident in my voice. "It's the only move, Alex. He's taken two years of Vesper's life away from her, and a son. The path to getting her son back starts with him."

Alex holds my stare for a moment longer, searching for any hint of doubt. Finding none, he turns back to his screens, fingers resuming their frantic dance across the keyboard. "Alright," he mutters, "but this is playing with fire, Oz. You know that, right?"

I nod, even though he can't see me. "Sometimes you have to fight fire with fire."

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