Page 53 of The Darkest Hour

In fact, earlier I’d considered simply slipping into the water and letting the sharks take me. The desperation had grown so overwhelming that the thought of an end, any end, seemed almost comforting.

But Havoc had kept pushing me forward and telling me to paddle and. . .I just did it.

A flash of lightning burst across the sky.

Then, thunder rumbled above.

What’s going to happen to us?

At least, in his arms, the fear still lingered, but it was tempered by something else.

A fragile bit of hope.

Sure, the storm raged on, and rain soaked us to the bone.

But the warmth of Havoc's body pressed against mine provided a small bit of comfort.

It helped me get through the tougher parts of this night— the gnawing hunger, the parched throat, the uncertainty of our survival.

All of that loomed over me like a dark cloud.

At least I have him to die with.

Unable to help it, I snuggled closer, relishing in the heat radiating from his body. Despite everything, despite the fear and the desperation, there was a small part of me that found solace in his presence. As long as Havoc was with me, I felt that maybe, just maybe, we had a chance.

I glanced up at him, studying his face in the moonlight.

His dark hair—soaked from the rain—clung to his forehead in a way that made him look even more ruggedly handsome.

His eyes were intense and calculating.

His features were sharp and chiseled.

He was a man that somehow embodied the possibilities of death and pleasure in every way.

And being in his arms felt like being held by a brutal force of nature.

His muscles were hard and unyielding, yet his embrace was surprisingly gentle.

There was a warmth there.

A comfort I hadn’t expected from a merciless killer like him.

I looked up again, tracing the contours of his face with my eyes.

Despite the darkness, I could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his lips curved into a slight smirk even in this dire situation.

He had raw power and somehow. . .wicked, undeniable charm. I would have swooned if I hadn’t known that he’d killed over 200 people in his assassin career.

Then he spoke and his voice held a deadly edge. “Did Paris say why he wanted me dead?”

“No, just that I had to wait until after you gave him some information.”

“You were in the sex club when he arrived?”

“Of course.”

“Of course?”