Page 48 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"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.

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