Page 52 of The Darkest Hour
Then, that smile left her face. “Havoc?”
“Yes.”
“Do you still want to know who my boss is?”
“I would rather kiss you again, but. . .” I winked. “For entertainment purposes. . .go ahead and tell me.”
“His name is Paris.”
No. Are you fucking kidding me?
Her words hung in the air, slicing through the intimate moment like a knife.
I pulled back, staring at her in disbelief.
The rain pelted down harder, soaking us both to the bone, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the chill that settled in my chest.
“Your boss is Paris?”
“Yes.”
Fucking a Nun
Onyx
At the confirmation of Paris’s name, Havoc’s grip on me tightened slightly, yet he didn’t say anything else.
What is he thinking?
I decided not to ask, letting him ponder that piece of the puzzle since. . .it truly didn’t matter anymore.
What will happen to us?
I scanned the space seeing the same thing that I’d seen for the past several hours.
The dark ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, and the rain came down in relentless sheets, pelting the surface of the water and creating a symphony of small splashes that echoed around us.
I was terrified of our oncoming deaths—either from starvation or dehydration.
Either way, days from now our cold, lifeless bodies would probably be drifting in this endless ocean.
And no one would know our names? Or what happened to us? Especially, Kendall.
My brother would no longer get phone calls from me or payments.
And he’d know deep in his heart that something happened to me, but wouldn’t have any way to find out. He would just understand that now. . .it was only him. . .in this lonely fucked up world.
Oh, Kendall. I’m so sorry.
For some reason that seemed worse than death.
Our raft rocked, and it felt like such a tiny, fragile vessel adrift in this dark ocean of despair. Each rise and fall of the waves felt like a reminder of my vulnerability, of the very thin line between life and death.
And because of that. . .this great amount of fear gnawed at me.
I’m going to die out here in this ocean.
Since rushing away from the yacht, I had thought about my death at least every damn hour.