Page 149 of The Darkest Hour

Neatly written, in the same precise handwriting as the map, was a list of dates, each followed by a name, an age, and a method of death.

The ink was just as dark as the person who wrote it.

Havoc whispered, “Twisted trophies.”

June 12, 1965 - Emma, age 7 – raped, beaten, and strangled.

July 23, 1967 - Jonathan, age 9 - Raped and drowned.

August 18, 1969 - Tamara and Tina, ages 12 - Raped and stabbed.

And so it went, page after page, year after year, each one more horrifying than the last. They all shared horrific fates and tragic ends at the hands of monsters who saw them as nothing more than prey to use, abuse, and kill.

Tears welled in my eyes as I turned the pages.

Every new entry was a fresh wound in my heart, and it was all unspeakable cruelty.

And even more, I got the feeling that this was just one hunters notebook. I bet everything that there were other hunters who kept track in their own way.

I wish I could fucking kill them all.

The notebook felt like it was burning in my hands, the weight of all those lost lives almost too much to bear. I could see the kids’ faces in my mind—innocent, trusting, filled with hope—and then the terror that must have overtaken them as they realized what was happening.

“Monsters.” I dropped the notebook. “Fucking piece of shit monsters. How could they write it down like it was just. . .a game?”

Havoc’s hand rested on my shoulder, comforting me a little bit. “Evil people take pleasure in wicked things. This was their legacy—probably passing down this sickness from one generation to the next.”

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the bile that rose in my throat.

Havoc picked up the notebook and checked the end of it. “The last entry was dated two weeks ago. Sarah. Age 13. Raped and burned alive.”

My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. “I. . .”

Havoc closed the notebook and placed it on the bed as if the children were inside of it.

“I never thought I would be a good mother so. . .” I wiped the tears from my face. “I got my tubes tied about four years ago. The doctor hadn’t wanted to do it. She kept saying that I might regret it one day.”

“And did you regret it?”

“No. But. . .I just feel like. . .even though that part of me was taken away. . .there’s still this mothering. . .sensation inside of me. . .that hurts for these children.”

Havoc gathered me into his arms. “You can cry for them right now, but do not cry anymore after this moment.”

More tears left my eyes.

“Because we are here, so no other children will ever come to this island and be harmed.”

I closed my eyes and leaned into him.

“And that bastard is dead, and if any other ones come here to fucking hunt, we will kill them.”

“I hope more come. I pray they show up.”

“But even more, Onyx, just like the plastic surgeon said. . .I believe it. . .”

“What?”

“I think we start anew with different lives. And now all of these children’s souls are somewhere else in this world, happy, smiling, and growing.”

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