His Private Hell - Chapter 32: Chapter 32
You are reading His Private Hell, Chapter 32: Chapter 32. Read more chapters of His Private Hell.
Epilogue
Three months later.
The world was still rebuilding, but Darcie had found one place untouched by surveillance—an off-grid cabin tucked between pines and frozen lake in northern Canada. No neural nets. No synthetic eyes watching from satellites.
Just trees. Water. Ice.
And Eella.
They lived simply—if such a word could be applied to two women who used to kill for a living.
Darcie chopped wood with surgical precision. Eella hunted like she was still chasing ghosts. They slept tangled in blankets, far from the thrum of corrupted cities. Some nights, when the wind howled, Darcie would wake covered in sweat, Seraphina’s name clawing up her throat.
But the darkness didn’t consume her anymore.
It was just background noise.
“You’re not sleeping again,” Eella said one night, sliding into the bed beside her, warm and smooth.
“Habit.”
“You keep looking at the stars like they’ll fall.”
Darcie looked down at her. “Would you catch them if they did?”
Eella smirked. “I’d burn with them.”
They kissed like it might be the last time—every time. Maybe it was. That was the problem with people like them.
Peace wasn’t permanent.
The next morning, it came.
A single envelope on the porch.
No address. No return.
Darcie opened it slowly, heart thudding.
Inside: a photo.
Black and white.
A child.
Same sharp cheekbones. Same storm-gray eyes.
A number scrawled on the back: #0047. Southeast Sector. Name: Lux.
Below it, one sentence.
“They’re waking up.”
Eella stepped beside her, gaze narrowing. “How did they find us?”
“They always do.”
Darcie stared out at the tree line, wind slicing through the silence like a promise.
No more peace.
No more hiding.
Not when her blood was being weaponized again.
She handed the envelope to Eella, already heading inside.
“What are you doing?” Eella called after her.
Darcie didn’t look back.
“Packing.”
Three months later.
The world was still rebuilding, but Darcie had found one place untouched by surveillance—an off-grid cabin tucked between pines and frozen lake in northern Canada. No neural nets. No synthetic eyes watching from satellites.
Just trees. Water. Ice.
And Eella.
They lived simply—if such a word could be applied to two women who used to kill for a living.
Darcie chopped wood with surgical precision. Eella hunted like she was still chasing ghosts. They slept tangled in blankets, far from the thrum of corrupted cities. Some nights, when the wind howled, Darcie would wake covered in sweat, Seraphina’s name clawing up her throat.
But the darkness didn’t consume her anymore.
It was just background noise.
“You’re not sleeping again,” Eella said one night, sliding into the bed beside her, warm and smooth.
“Habit.”
“You keep looking at the stars like they’ll fall.”
Darcie looked down at her. “Would you catch them if they did?”
Eella smirked. “I’d burn with them.”
They kissed like it might be the last time—every time. Maybe it was. That was the problem with people like them.
Peace wasn’t permanent.
The next morning, it came.
A single envelope on the porch.
No address. No return.
Darcie opened it slowly, heart thudding.
Inside: a photo.
Black and white.
A child.
Same sharp cheekbones. Same storm-gray eyes.
A number scrawled on the back: #0047. Southeast Sector. Name: Lux.
Below it, one sentence.
“They’re waking up.”
Eella stepped beside her, gaze narrowing. “How did they find us?”
“They always do.”
Darcie stared out at the tree line, wind slicing through the silence like a promise.
No more peace.
No more hiding.
Not when her blood was being weaponized again.
She handed the envelope to Eella, already heading inside.
“What are you doing?” Eella called after her.
Darcie didn’t look back.
“Packing.”
End of His Private Hell Chapter 32. Continue reading Chapter 33 or return to His Private Hell book page.