Page 159 of The Darkest Hour

I stood, adjusted my glasses once more, and made my way toward the bookshelf that dominated the far wall of my living room. Its rows of leather-bound volumes concealed more than just knowledge.

My fingers traced the spines until they landed on the one I was looking for—a worn, crimson volume titled The Art of War.

I pulled it slightly, and with a soft click, the entire section of the bookcase slid open, revealing a hidden elevator behind it.

My bodyguards remained at their posts, well aware that this was a journey I would take alone.

This elevator led to my sanctuary—a place even my most trusted men were forbidden to enter.

I stepped into the elevator.

The doors closed smoothly behind me.

On the outside, the bookcase would return to its original position, leaving no trace of the secret passage.

As the elevator ascended, my thoughts drifted to Indra.

I hope she remains quiet. Why must she moan so much?

I frowned.

She was a decent new lover, skilled enough to satisfy my dark urges, but she could never replace Onyx.

No one could.

My heart ached.

I blinked wishing I could push thoughts of her away.

Why is she still in my head?

I could still remember Onyx’s dark brown skin, soft as silk, and the way it felt beneath my fingers during our most passionate moments.

The memory of her in that nun outfit—a twisted irony that suited our equally twisted relationship—played vividly in my mind.

She had worn it with such grace, her movements slow and deliberate, always teasing me with every step.

Indra was still working on that part.

How I wish Onyx. . .no. . .do not think of her. There’s no need. She’s dead.

But beneath Onyx’s grace was a defiance that I could never truly tame. Eventually, Onyx had rejected me, spurning the power and protection I offered.

She betrayed me in that act of defiance, choosing her own path over the one I laid out for her.

Not an ounce of appreciation for all that I had given her.

It had stung, far more than I’d ever let on.

But that was over now.

Onyx’s burnt and battered body, along with Havoc’s, was resting at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean—a watery grave where they could trouble me no more.

Two problems neatly solved.

A smile curled on my lips at the thought.

I won like I always do, and this team of whoever will lose too.

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