Page 147 of The Darkest Hour

We found a chef’s kitchen, complete with industrial-grade appliances and a pantry still stocked with canned goods and dried provisions. The dining room was dominated by a long table made from rich mahogany wood, a dozen high-backed chairs standing sentinel around it.

Unable to stop ourselves, we made something quick to eat. Sandwiches made from an untouched roasted lamb that had been in the fridge that Havoc inspected with his nose and cleared.

I found bread, mayo, lettuce, and tomatoes.

It was the fastest I’d ever made a sandwich in my life. Mayo dripped onto my fingers and I lapped it up, starving for the fat.

Once we devoured the sandwiches, we drank at least three to four glasses of water each, and we were back to our search.

We found a wine cellar stocked with bottles that had aged well.

A library filled with leather-bound books was next, its shelves reaching up to a domed ceiling painted to resembled the night sky. In one corner of the library stood a striking portrait of a man. We were certain it wasn’t the person who had hung himself, but perhaps. . .his father.

Either way, the man’s doomful gray eyes seeming to follow us around the room as we looked through it.

But right next to that huge painting, Havoc picked up an odd scent. “There’s. . .something behind here.”

“Yeah?” I went over and touched the wall.

He gently knocked on the wall and listened intently after each knock.

I watched him, fully intrigued and impressed.

He did this for a while and moved to the left and then the right.

After several minutes, he found what he was looking for, some odd placement of a wood square at the bottom of the wall that appeared out of place with the whole chateau.

He tapped it with his foot.

The square fell, revealing a black button.

I blinked.

He tapped the button with the point of his toe.

The wall slid open.

“Shit.”

A massive gray room appeared, looking like a jail cell. Five small cots stood against the walls. There were chains and locks to the floor.

No one was in there, but I could feel the sad whispers and whimpers that had filled this space.

Havoc sniffed. “This is where they kept the kids hidden.”

My eyes watered, and I turned away. “I wished he had not hung himself. I would have loved to do the job for him.”

“Naw.” Havoc’s voice held an edge. “He wanted a quick death, and we would have dragged it out for days.”

“Weeks even.” I left the library and headed upstairs.

Havoc followed.

We discovered seven rooms. Each had their own private bathroom. Havoc sniffed and declared that at least four of the bedrooms had never been used.

Which was good because I didn’t want to sleep wherever that sick bastard had been.

And we were definitely staying in this place if we couldn’t find a way off this island.

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