The Darkest Hour

34. The Dark Moment

The Dark Moment

Havoc

Minutes had passed.

Eventually, we continued our search of the place and descended the grand staircase.

The oppressive weight of our twisted discoveries clung to me like a second skin.

And as we hit the first floor, the inescapable scent of death grew thicker, telling me that there were more bodies yet to find.

I should go check on them myself. She can’t deal with anymore.

The stench wasn’t just a physical presence; it was a shadow that grew darker with every breath I took, wrapping itself around my thoughts and tightening with the knowledge of our fate.

Silent, Onyx walked beside me. A few times, her steps faltered as if the ground beneath her feet was crumbling away.

I grabbed her hand to steady her.

She whispered, “Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She was so used to being strong and independent. I could see that she was having difficulty with this new mode she was in.

Her eyes—once alive with the bright hope of escaping this island— now seemed distant.

I watched her, feeling the shift in her spirit like a knife slowly twisting in my gut.

The island and this opulent chateau would give us food, shelter, and the means to easily survive.

But it was also a gilded cage, and she was beginning to understand, as I already had, that this island might be our grave too—the last place we would ever live.

Last night, I had tried to prepare her, tried to lay bare the truth in the hope that she could find some solace in it.

But now, as I walked beside her, I could smell the sadness that radiated from her chest.

It was a bitter fragrance saturating her orange spice scent.

And it stung more than any wound I had ever received as an assassin.

What do I do?

I had spent my life in solitude, killing others and only caring for myself.

But now, with Onyx by my side, I was lost in the unfamiliar terrain of love and responsibility.

And, I had no map, no compass to guide me through this dark moment, no clear understanding of how to mend a soul breaking beneath the burden of truth.

What were her true wants?

Her needs?

How could I satisfy her as we remain stuck here?

I had no answer to any of those questions. All I knew was that I was falling in love with her, and that she had turned out to be a precious gift in this shitty life.

And because of that, I would spend the rest of my life trying to figure out all of the answers to those questions.

I turned to her and squeezed her hand. “We should go in the back.”

She didn’t even put her view on me. “You said there is more death out there.”

“I can smell it clearly.”

She let out a long breath. “Then. . .we’ll go see what’s out there.”

“And we’ll face it together.”

She slowly nodded. “And. . .”

I quirked my brows. “Yes?”

“Regardless, please don’t let go of my hand.”

I gave her a sad smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “Onyx. . .I will never let go of you. . .period.”

She swallowed. “That’s the best thing you could have ever said right now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Thank God you’re with me. I couldn’t have dealt with all of this by myself.”

Warmth hit my chest.

So. . .I am helping her. . .somehow. Good.

Still holding Onyx’s hand, I led the way, pushing open the large doors that led to the back of the chateau.

The little bit of fresh air should have been a relief after the suffocating atmosphere inside, but instead, it brought with it that sickly sweet odor of decay.

God, I hate smelling dead people.

For some reason, death held the stench of rotting meat mixed with blood and candy. That was the only way I could explain it.

Perhaps, it was why even as a kid, I never really enjoyed candy like the other children.

Hand-in-hand, we continued outside.

The rear of the chateau unfolded like a scene from a forgotten dream—a place where luxury had been left to languish.

Manicured bushes lined the back of the property.

And right on the ground, rested five bodies, sprawled out in a grotesque display of death.

While we’d both been accustomed to death in our assassin careers, this sight was enough to stop anyone in their tracks.

Still, I forced myself to move closer, to take in the details that would tell the story of their final moments.

The decomposition was advanced. The skin of the corpses bloated and mottled into a sickening mixture of green, black, and purple.

Flies swarmed around them, buzzing in an incessant, maddening drone as they feasted on the rotting flesh. The smell was overwhelming, even for me, a pungent blend of decay, candy, and something more metallic—blood, now congealed and darkened where it had pooled beneath them.

Onyx shook her head. “They’ve been dead longer than the hanging man.”

“I bet he was the one who killed them.”

“Then, he killed himself the next day or day after that.”

“I believe so.”

“What kind of sick bastard just chills in a chateau while there are five dead bodies lying in the back.”

“The same sort of sick bastard that would kill kids for sport.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” With her free hand, she pointed to the three of the bodies that were dressed in simple, dark uniforms. “Servants, most likely.”

“I agree.”

Dirt and dried blood stained their clothes. Fabric had been torn in places where the scavengers had begun to feed. Their faces were nearly unrecognizable, twisted in the grotesque contortions that death often brought.

All had been shot in the chests and foreheads.

I sighed. “Mercy executions.”

“He must have cared about them.”

“And appreciated that they kept his sick secrets until the very end.”

The fourth body was different—this one was heavier set, dressed in a white jacket stained with a dark, crusted maroon.

I gestured to him. “A chef, maybe.”

“I think so.”

The jacket had once been pristine, but now it was ruined, and the man’s face was barely visible beneath the bloat and decay. His body had been shot multiple times, the wounds oozing with the blackness of death.

Onyx shook her head. “He didn’t like the chef that much. Maybe, the chef didn’t like what was going on around here.”

“But the chef didn’t put a stop to it, so I wouldn’t shed any tears for him.”

“True.”

It was the fifth body that caught my attention the most.

I let go of Onyx’s hand, went over to it, and kneeled.

Unlike the others, this one was dressed in a jumpsuit, the kind typically worn by pilots. The insignia on the chest and the distinct style of the boots confirmed my suspicions.

He’d likely been the one to fly whoever had owned this place to and from the island.

Now, he lay lifeless, his fate sealed like all the others.

Onyx cursed under her breath, surely coming to the same conclusion.

I turned to look at Onyx. She was standing there, staring at the bodies, her eyes wide and glassy, her lips parted slightly as if she were struggling to breathe.

I could see the further toll this was taking on her, how these new discoveries had chipped away at the last bit of her hope—a hope that had been keeping her going all this time.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. “Let’s see what else is back here.”

I rose and wanted to comfort Onyx, to tell her that we’d figure something out, but I couldn’t lie to her.

Not now.

Not while the truth was staring us in the face.

Rotting at our feet.

She headed off, leaving the dead bodies behind.

I followed.

We walked in silence. The sound of gravel crunching beneath our feet filled the air as we made it to neatly trimmed hedges next to a huge storage area.

I kicked it open.

Inside, rows of hunting weapons and gear lay in wait, untouched and perfectly organized. Rifles gleamed next to several cases of ammunition and equipment stacked methodically, as if anticipating the return of their sick hunters who would never come.

We had enough to start a war, if necessary. Just no one to shoot and kill.

“This is good.” I checked some of the guns, confirming they were in perfect shape. “If any sickos do arrive for some happy kid hunting, we’ll be here to destroy them.”

Silent, Onyx put her gun on top of one of them and left the storage space.

I left to follow her.

Is she going to be okay?

“Havoc.” Onyx stopped and pointed. “Do you see that?”

Further off in the distance, just beyond the formal gardens, a circular helipad stood out.

“I see it.”

Onyx’s mood picked up and she hurried forward.

From our point of view, a black helicopter rested silently upon it.

As we headed that way, she glanced at me. “Can you fly it?”

“No, but. . .we have all the time to learn.”

She sighed. “Yes. . .we do. That’s right. We can figure it out. Learn how to do whatever and then get off here.”

If it is still in working shape.

The hanging man had taken great care to make sure his secrets never left this island. There was no guarantee that his last act of caution was simply killing the pilot and staff.

Maybe, he did more.

Of course, I wouldn’t say that out loud and ruin the last drop of hope Onyx held on to.

The closer we got, the more I noticed that beyond the helipad, the land sloped gently down toward the edge of the island, where beach stretched out.

And it was much nicer than the one we had landed on. All pale white sand kissed by the calm crystal blue waves.

The view was breathtaking, yet there was an emptiness to it all too.

A sense of abandonment that hung like a ghost in the ocean breeze.

We got closer to the helipad and my morbid guess became truth.

Onyx’s voice cracked at the end. “No. God. . .no.”

It wasn’t that the helicopter was black.

Actually, the helicopter was a charred, twisted wreck. The metal frame was blackened, the once-sleek rotors now warped and melted from the intense heat. The windows were shattered. Glass littering the ground like the remnants of some terrible explosion.

It was clear that the helicopter had been deliberately set on fire.

Onyx stopped in front of it. “That fucking piece of shit bastard. I hope his neck didn’t snap immediately when he kicked the ladder. I hope he hung there for hours between dying and barely breathing.”

“Me too.”

“There’s. . .” Onyx scanned the space and then looked back at the burned-up helicopter. “There’s no escape.”

My heart broke for her.

As if unable to deal with it all anymore, Onyx dropped to her knees, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

Damn it.

I watched as she broke.

Tears streamed down her face. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs.

Unable to handle it, I went over to Onyx, lowered, and gathered her trembling body into my arms.

I wanted to say something, anything that might ease her pain, but the words wouldn’t come.

What could I say?

That we were stuck here, but everything would be okay?

Now wasn’t the time for that.

All I could do was hold her, pressing her head against my chest as she continued to cry. Letting her pour out the despair that had been building up inside her ever since we first set foot on this damned island.

All I could do was stay strong, for her.

And, she clung to me, telling my heart and soul that she needed my strength.

I could feel her desperation, her fear, her anger—all of it pulsing through her body, and I absorbed it, letting her release it in the only way she knew how.

I let her cry.

I let her mourn the loss of the future she had hoped for.

I let the sound of her pain cut through the ocean breeze.

Cut through me.

So much that. . .

her pain sliced through my flesh. . .

and brought blood

that. . .

dripped and dripped. . .

pouring down my hands.

My arms and legs.

My face.

My heart.

My mind.

My soul.

I couldn’t tell you how long that I drowned in her pain.

Gasping.

Choking.

Dying on the inside.

And as the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the ruined helicopter and us, I made a silent vow that I would do whatever it took to protect her, to keep her safe in this twisted place, even if it meant accepting that this island would be our home forever.

As Onyx's sobs quieted against my chest, I gently ran my fingers through her dreadlocks.

Say something to her. Damn it. You have to.

My heart ached with each tremor that shook her body, but I knew I had to be strong for her, even if the hope I was about to offer was as thin as the ocean mist.

“It’s going to be okay.” I pulled back a little and kissed some of the tears on her cheeks. “We’re going to figure this out. We’re going to survive this.”

Shivering, she didn’t respond, just kept clinging to me as if I were the only thing keeping her from sinking completely into despair.

I could feel her breath, ragged and uneven, against my neck, and I knew I had to keep talking, keep giving her something to hold on to, even if it was just words.

Even if it was possibly lies.

“Maybe now that the helicopter’s gone,” My mind raced to grasp at anything that could bring her some comfort. “We could try signaling for someone. There’s got to be a way. A flare, a fire, something around this chateau. Someone out there might see it, and they’ll come. Or. . .”

I hesitated, but then pushed forward, needing to keep the hope alive in both of us. “Or maybe the hanged man’s lawyer will come to check on things. The hanged man was wealthy, probably famous. People like that don’t just disappear without someone noticing and going to investigate.”

Onyx’s breathing began to slow, and her sobs faded as she listened to me.

I wasn’t sure if she believed what I was saying, but I kept going, needing to fill the silence with something other than the crushing existence of our bleak reality.

“We just need to stay strong, keep looking for a way out. There has to be one. We’re not going to die here, Onyx. We’re going to get off this island, I promise you. Someone will come, or we’ll find something. We’ll figure it out together. I know it.”

It was crazy but then. . .I slowly began to realize that as the words left my mouth, that I was even beginning to believe them.

I mean. . .it could happen. . .right?

The desperation to comfort her somehow had me latching onto every possibility, every thin thread of hope too.

Maybe there really was a way out.

Maybe we wouldn’t be trapped here forever.

Maybe. . .

Onyx lifted her head from my chest, her tear-streaked face gazing up at me.

And thankfully, I saw renewed hope in her eyes.

Yes. We can do this.

Her hope was faint, but it was there, like a flickering candle in the darkness.

She whispered, “You. . .really think so?”

“I do.”

“But. . .”

“One day, we’ll escape.”

She moved her gaze to the burnt up helicopter.

I grabbed her chin and put her view back on me. “We will. . .one day. . .”

Her eyes searched mine, and I saw the fire of resolve starting to ignite more within her again.

Her bottom lip quivered. “One day.”

“That’s right. We’re smart. We’re strong.”

“But—”

“The darkest hour is when the worst things can happen to you. Intense horrific things. We are in the darkest hour right now. Can you feel the darkness surrounding us, almost suffocating us?”

Surely, remembering that I had said this to her before on the raft, she gave me a sad smile. “Yes. I can feel it.”

“Good because it is only in our darkest hours do we discover the brilliant light within ourselves.”

More tears left her eyes, but that smile widened.

I ran my fingers through her dreadlocks. “Our souls burn.”

She shivered.

“They glow.” I took in my breathtaking new lover. “And it is a light that can never be dimmed. Nor put out.”

I leaned in and kissed her.

But this kiss was more than just a meeting of lips.

It was a collision of souls.

A merging of everything we had endured.

Every tragic moment out in the ocean and on this island.

Every whispered fear.

It was the darkness.

It was the light.

It was our shared pain.

It was our unspoken words of despair.

It was a kiss that bound us together.

Two broken souls that found solace amidst the ruins of our past lives.

When I finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against hers, and looked into her eyes.

The future was uncertain, the challenges before us immense, but in that moment, with her in my arms, I felt something I hadn’t dared to feel in a long time—hope.

It was fragile.

Delicate.

Like a small flame in the wind.

But, it was there, burning quietly between us.

And as long as we had each other, I knew that flame would grow, guiding us through other dark hours that lay ahead.