Page 92 of All The Pretty Little Lies

We all turn to look at him, curiosity piqued. Talon rarely offers strategic input, preferring to follow rather than lead. But there's a determination on his face now that catches my attention.

"Ivanov implicated Natasha, too," Talon continues, his words measured and careful. "I think she's our next move."

“But how do we get to her? All we know about her is that she was the broker for Vesper.” Zaire asks, his fingers absentlytracing patterns on Vesper's arm. "We can't just walk up to her and ask her what she knows."

Talon takes a deep breath, his gaze flickering to Vesper before returning to the group. "We invoke the breeding clause," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "And set a meeting with her."

My mind races, parsing through the implications of Talon's suggestion. The breeding clause. It's a risky move, but not without merit. It could give us the in we need, a chance to unravel this tangled web of deception and manipulation. I don't hate the idea, but the logistics of it gnaw at me.

"It's not a bad plan," I say slowly, choosing my words with care. "But how do we even contact her? We can't exactly look up 'shady black market baby broker' in the yellow pages."

A ghost of a smile flickers across Talon's face, a spark of something I can't quite place dancing in his eyes. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket and produces a small, white rectangle. A business card.

"It was in the bill of sale paperwork," he explains, his voice low and steady. "I found it when I was going through everything again last night."

The card is unremarkable at first glance, plain white stock, no name, no contact information. But there, centered on the glossy surface, is a small black square. A QR code.

Before anyone else can react, Alex's hand darts out, snatching the card from Talon's grasp. His fingers move with the practiced ease of a pickpocket, reminding me once again of the skills that make him such a valuable asset to our team.

Alex turns the card over in his hands, examining it from every angle. His brow furrows in concentration, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the QR code. "It's not just a link," he mutters, more to himself than to us. "Yeah, I've seen this before. Once you scan it, it initiates a call. Clever. Untraceable."

The tension in the room ratchets up a notch. We're all acutely aware of what this means, a direct line to Natasha, the woman who brokered Vesper's sale. The woman who might hold the key to unraveling this entire conspiracy.

"It's worth a shot," I say, breaking the silence that has fallen over us. "But we need to be smart about this. We can't go in half-cocked."

Zaire nods, his arms tightening almost imperceptibly around Vesper. "Agreed," he says, his voice rough with emotion. “Talon needs to make the call. She’s heard his voice. As much money as they made, it isn’t likely she forgot Charles Blackwood.”

“Who?” Vesper asks.

“Long story, sweetheart,” Talon smirks. “I’ll call.” Talon takes the card away from Alex and starts to scan it with his phone. Alex stops him before he can hit send.

“Have I taught you nothing,” he mutters before shifting from his seat, and walking towards his room. He returns a few minutes later with a black burner phone in his hand. “Always use an encrypted burner phone, Bjáni.”

“I have no idea what you just called me, but I think it might have been a compliment.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex declares flatly.

Talon scans the card with the burner phone, his fingers trembling slightly. The tension in the room is palpable as we all hold our breath, waiting. The phone rings once, twice, three times. Just as I'm beginning to think this might be a dead end, a crisp, accented voice answers.

"?????? ????," the female voice purrs, the Russian rolling off her tongue like silk. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

I watch as Talon's demeanor shifts. Gone is the easy-going, golden retriever-like friend I know. In his place stands Charles Blackwood, the suave and confident buyer from the auction. Hisvoice, when he speaks, is low and smooth, with just a hint of a British accent.

"Natasha," he purrs, "it's Charles Blackwood. I trust you remember me?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and then a low, throaty chuckle. "Mr. Blackwood," Natasha replies, her voice dripping with honey and venom in equal measure. "What a pleasant surprise. How could I forget our most discerning client?"

I watch as Talon's jaw clenches, a flicker of disgust passing over his features before he schools his expression back into neutrality. "Indeed," he says, his tone light but with an undercurrent of steel. "I was just thinking about our last transaction. I must say, I'm quite pleased with my investment."

Natasha's laugh is like broken glass, sharp and dangerous. "I'm so glad to hear it, Mr. Blackwood. Our merchandise is always of the highest quality. How is the little dove adjusting?"

At the word 'merchandise,' I see Vesper flinch as if she's been struck. Zaire's arms tighten around her, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage. I feel my own anger rising, hot and fierce in my chest, but I force it down. We need to stay focused.

Talon's voice remains steady as he replies, "Oh, she's everything I could have hoped for and more. Well worth what I spent, I assure you." His eyes flick to Vesper as he speaks, and I see a silent apology in them. "In fact, I was wondering if we might discuss the possibility of expanding my investment."

There's a pregnant pause on the other end of the line. When Natasha speaks again, her voice has lost some of its syrupy sweetness, replaced by sharp interest. "Expanding? My, my, Mr. Blackwood. You are insatiable, aren't you? What did you have in mind?"

I lean forward, every muscle in my body tense.

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