Page 152 of The Darkest Hour

“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.

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