Page 74 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"Hvar ertu, helvíti?” Alex mutters under his breath.

“Another dead end?” I mutter, not taking my eyes off the clinic's entrance.

Alex shakes his head, his frustration mirroring my own. "Nothing. It's like he never existed. We're missing something, Z," Alex says, his voice low. "Ivanov did not just vanish into thin air."

I nod, my mind racing. The tattoos on my arms seem to itch beneath my jacket, a physical manifestation of my restlessness. "We need to dig deeper. There has to be a connection we're not seeing."

As I speak, my thoughts drift to Vesper. Her fierce green eyes, the way her blonde hair catches the light. The strength she exudes, even in her most vulnerable moments. The thought of anyone using her, manipulating her biology without her knowledge, makes my blood boil.

I hesitate, weighing our options. The tattoo on my neck, an intricate design of intertwining thorns, seems to pulse with each beat of my heart. It's a reminder of the pain I've endured, the battles I've fought. This feels like another war, but one with higher stakes than ever before.

I pull out my phone, desperate for a moment of distraction. As the screen lights up, my breath catches in my throat. There she is my lock screen a snapshot of paradise. Vesper's long, tanned legs stretch out before her, the azure waters of the beach lapping at the shore beyond. The sight of her brings a bittersweet ache to my chest, a longing so intense it's almost physical.

But it's not just Vesper in the photo. Another pair of legs, unmistakably masculine, frame hers. Oscar's. The sight stirs a complicated cocktail of emotions within me. Jealousy burns hot and quick, a flare of possessiveness that I try to tamp down. It's irrational, I know. Oscar is as devoted to Vesper as I am, and I trust him with my life. With her life. Still, I can't help but wish it was my legs in that photo, my skin warmed by the same sun that caresses hers. I imagine the feel of the sand between my toes, the salt-laden breeze ruffling my hair. Most of all, I yearn for the weight of Vesper in my arms, the scent of her hair, and the sound of her laughter.

"You okay?" Alex's voice cuts through my reverie, concern evident in his tone.

I blink, realizing I've been staring at my phone for far longer than I intended. "Yeah," I mutter, clearing my throat. "Just wishing I was there."

Alex's expression softens, understanding flickering in his eyes. He knows what it's like to be torn between duty and desire, between the mission and the heart.

"She's safe with Oscar," he reminds me gently. "And the sooner we crack this case, the sooner you can get back to your love pentagon.”

Ignoring his comment about the complicated relationship between the three of us, I push off the wall, my muscles aching from hours of inactivity. "We need to change our approach," I say, running a hand through my hair. "This waiting game isn't getting us anywhere."

Alex nods, his blue eyes narrowing as he scans the street. "What do you have in mind?"

I take a deep breath, my mind racing with possibilities. The cool air fills my lungs, sharpening my focus. "Alex," I say, my voice low and urgent, "you still got that voice modulator? And the number spoofer?"

Alex's eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He rolls his eyes dramatically, the gesture so familiar it almost makes me laugh despite the tension thrumming through my body. "Please," he scoffs, "It’s one of the first things I pack for road trips."

I nod, a plan rapidly forming in my mind. The tattoos on my arms seem to pulse with anticipation as if they can sense the impending action. "I think it's time we stopped waiting for Ivanov to show his face," I say, my eyes darting back to the clinic's entrance. "Let's bring him to us instead."

Alex's eyes light up with understanding. "You want to call the clinic," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Exactly," I confirm, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the prospect. "If we can't find him, maybe we can smoke him out."

“But you can’t call as Ivanov himself. That wouldn’t work.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” I admit. “But, think about what Talon said about the auction. The red headed bitch that brokered her deal said that if he was unhappy with his purchase, resale would be no problem. Let’s just say that we are unhappy with our purchase. We can leave a message, as Natasha, requesting Ivanov’s assistance.”

Alex nods, his excitement palpable. "I like it," he says, already reaching for his phone. "I've got everything we need in the car. Let's do this."

We make our way back to the nondescript sedan parked a block away, our steps quick and purposeful. The city bustles around us, oblivious to the high-stakes game we're about to play.

Alex pops the trunk, revealing a treasure trove of tech. His fingers dance over the equipment, selecting what we need with practiced ease. In minutes, we're back in the car, the engine purring to life as Alex sets up the gear.

"Okay," he says, handing me a small, sleek device. "This will modulate your voice. And I've got the number spoofer ready to go.”

I take the device, feeling its weight in my hand. I clear my throat, preparing myself for the performance of a lifetime.

"Ready?" Alex asks, his finger hovering over the call button.

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. The scar on my neck seems to tingle, a reminder of all we've been through, all we're fighting for. "Let's do this," I say, my voice steady despite the nerves coursing through me.

Alex hits the button. The phone rings once, twice, three times before a crisp, professional voice answers. "Fertility Solutions, how may I assist you today?"

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the voice modulator against my throat. When I speak, the words come out in a sultry feminine tone, completely unlike my own.

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