Page 103 of The Collector
"If they do they didn't get the information from us. We clammed up immediately. But from what I gathered, the FBI followed him here. Someone called in a tip."
Raven's grip tightened around the phone. His mind raced—Pierre dead, the FBI circling like vultures around his body. Sugar's murderer was now officially linked to a name associated with the Kings. One less thing Raven needed to attend to. This revelation wouldn't sit well with the Godfathers in Mexico. This situation wasn't about credibility anymore; it was about controlling the backlash. The problem now was keeping the Cordoba name untarnished and finding Mynx before someone else did.
"Hold your position," Raven said. "Don't speak to anyone. Not even family. I'll be there in ten."
He hung up and turned to Santiago, eyes blazing.
"Get him to the car. All hell has just broken loose. We need to find Mynx. I need to check if the tracking chip in her choker is working so we can get her location. But first, I have to talk to the Feds."
The madhouse Raven pulled up to at Mynx's house was unreal.
Cop cars flanked both ends of the street, their lights casting frantic pulses across the pavement. Blue and red strobes bounced off windows, bathing the neighborhood in their surreal glow— in a laser show choreographed by death. The emergency hues illuminated every building for blocks. News vans clustered on the sides of the street; their satellite dishes raised, sniffing out any ounce of information they could broadcast on the evening news. Reporters paced behind caution tape,microphones in hand, eyes hungry. Cameras pointed at the front door, waiting for something—anything—to emerge.
Yellow tape sliced the air around the house, taut and unforgiving. A barrier between spectacle and tragedy. Between what the public wanted to see and what Raven couldn't bear to.Please be alive, Mynx. I just found you. I'm not ready to lose you.He stepped out of the car, the weight of dread pressing against his chest. The coroner's van sat ominously in the driveway, its back doors yawning open.
Two techs wheeled a black body bag out the front door and into the waiting van. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.Please, no more bodies. Please let Mynx still be out there.His phone buzzed—Shelby was reinstalling the tracker app remotely. The signal had glitched, and Raven didn't have time to wait for clean data. Not with Blackwell and Ames already on-site, waiting to question him.
He stepped out, jaw tight, eyes scanning the chaos. This needed to be quick. He had no interest in the details of what Pierre had done or how they had fingered him in this moment. Mynx was out there. And Stoker's brother was a looming threat to them all. The Stallions also had to be aware that Raul had been lost to them by this point. He was waiting for retaliation to jump off at any moment. Now he had the added layer of what the Godfathers were going to say about Peirre to deal with.
Every second wasted here was a second she might be slipping further out of reach. That one of the King's enemies might find her.
Fuck he needed this app to start working. Where are you, Mynx?He shoved his phone in his pocket and stood at the end of the driveway. Blackwell exited the house just as he did.
"Mr. Cordoba, glad you could make it." Blackwell stood on the other side of the caution tape as if it were a barrier to the outsideworld, hands tucked neatly in his pockets, legs spread like he owned the scene that was playing out behind him.
"Blackwell—I hear you have the man you were looking for. I'm not sure what I'm doing here."
"I just wanted to ask you a few final questions before we close this case out. I assume your men already told you that we found Pierre dead inside. He took one to the chest and two to the head."
"I'd say that's unfortunate, but is it really if what you're saying is true?" Raven crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Blackwell with no remorse.
"Not in this case," the agent said, voice clipped but steady. "My partner and I called this morning to speak with you about Pierre—wanted to confirm his identity as The Collector and get your insight on his whereabouts."
Raven's jaw flexed, but he said nothing.
"That DNA we found," the agent continued. "It matches Pierre's. And we've recovered additional evidence—items we believe link him to several other murders attributed to the Collector." He paused, letting the information settle. "We were planning to take him into custody today. We were hoping you'd cooperate. But as you can see, that's no longer necessary. Your men stood outside while someone murdered him inside. They claim they had nothing to do with it. So who took him out?"
"No clue who would've taken him out. Guy had enemies stacked like poker chips—take your pick. As for my people, they were out doing neighborhood watch. We like to give back when we can."
Blackwell smiled. "I see." He glanced toward the flashing lights down the block. "I don't have any more questions for now. But I've got an active crime scene to manage, and we're still tying up loose ends. Don't leave town, your men either. Ames called for Blackwell over the radio, and he headed back into the house.
Raven's phone dinged with a notification as he walked over to talk to his men. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Shelby.
11:38 A.M. Shelby- Apps running. It's not working correctly. The website says they are still having issues with the system.
11:39 A.M. Raven— Thank you. I'll keep you updated.
Raven opened the Without a Trace app, thumb trembling slightly as the screen loaded. A single blinking green light pulsed on the map—small, insistent, alive on the screen. It was on the other side of town. Holy Cross Cemetery.
His breath caught. Mynx. The signal wasn't just a location. It was a scream. A beacon. A demand: Get here. Now. He prayed the location was accurate.
The cemetery. Of all places. It felt deliberate. Symbolic.
"Time to go, boys. I just got a ping on a possible location for Mynx. Jeremy, you and Tommy follow us, just in case we need backup. I have no clue what we are walking into. Doesn't seem like a location Mynx would pick to hide. I'm pretty sure someone has her."
He glanced at Jeremy, then Tommy. Their faces matched his—cut from the same stone. Ready. Ruthless. Loyal to the bone. Kings to the core.
"Then let's go get her," Jeremy said.
