Page 46 of All The Pretty Little Lies

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. Yourfather, 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."

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