Page 58 of The Darkest Hour

A cold shiver ran through me, and it had nothing to do with the rain or wind.

Could he be right?

Was Paris really that pathetic?

Had Paris truly been so twisted in his affections that he would rather see me dead than free of his cock?

The raft rocked gently, the rhythmic motion almost soothing. I glanced at Havoc, his face shadowed in the dim light. He was a paradox—brutal and gentle, ruthless and protective. Despite the countless lives he had taken, he now stood as my only semblance of hope in this vast, dark ocean.

Paris and Havoc.

Two men, both deadly, yet so different.

Paris had always been controlled, meticulous in every aspect of his life, including our twisted sexual relationship.

Our encounters were cold.

Detached.

Almost clinical.

It was never about love or even lust.

It was about power and control.

Paris had kept me at arm's length, both physically and emotionally, ensuring I was just another pawn in his grand game. Even his final act of sending me to kill Havoc felt more like a strategic move than a personal vendetta—until now.

Havoc, on the other hand, was raw and unfiltered. He didn't hide his intentions behind a facade of propriety. He was straightforward, brutally honest, and in a strange way, that was more comforting than Paris's calculated bullshit.

In Havoc's arms, there was a warmth that Paris could never provide.

A sense of being truly seen.

Even in the face of death.

But Paris’s betrayal.

Now as I floated in this endless sea, I felt a surge of determination. Paris might have orchestrated this situation, but he had underestimated me. He had seen me as a disposable asset, a tool to be used and discarded.

But I was more than that.

I had survived the storm, and I would survive whatever came next.

I imagined myself back in London, the city lights casting long shadows as I moved through the streets.

I saw myself standing before Paris's office and then pushing the door open.

He would be there, seated behind his mahogany desk, eyes sharp and calculating.

But this time, it would be different.

This time, I would be the one in control.

I thought about the look of surprise on Paris's face as he realized his mistake.

I bet that cold, detached exterior would crack.

And then, fast, I would end it.