Page 94 of The Collector
"Treat his word like mine. Or don't and make peace with the consequences you'll face in return. Either works for me."
Raven's gaze swept the room, steady and unflinching.
"For now, return to your homes. Stay alert. Await instructions."
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
"Today, we plan a war. Tomorrow, we will ignite it. Everyone, be ready to strike when you're called upon. Until then, it's business as usual."
He waited a beat before continuing. Letting them digest his orders.
"I'll make the arrangements for my father's wake and get the details out as soon as I can to you. I expect to see every one of you there." Raven didn't wait for responses to his orders; he merely walked out of the room like the boss he was, a man in complete control.
Raven started for the door, Santiago Lomos—his father's second and Raven's Godfather—raised two fingers in the air toward him. Not a wave. Not a plea but a summons to speak to him.
Raven halted mid-stride. The gesture was quiet and respectful, carrying the weight of old debts and darker promises he'd shared with the man so that he would oblige him.
Santiago stood in the shadowed corner, where the light didn't quite reach.
"Can we chat for a moment, for old times' sake? For Hector?" His familiar voice wheezed out, harshened by too many cigars and whiskeys over the years, and asked.
Raven turned slowly. His pulse ticked in his jaw. He knew that tone. It was the one Santiago used before a reckoning. As a senior member of the Kings, Santiago didn't outrank Raven, so he was under no obligation to talk to him. But respect demanded consideration, the gesture of listening, the illusion of diplomacy between high-ranking members. Let everyone feel heard and part of the team.
"What can I do for you, Uncle San?" Raven asked, sliding his hands into his pockets. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes stayed sharp. He studied the man in front of him—face weathered, jaw set like stone.
His father had trusted this man implicitly. If Uncle San had something to say, it wasn't noise—it carried weight. So Raven listened.
Uncle San nodded once, slowly. "First off, I need you to know that what happened to Hector was a tragedy. Not just for the Kings. For me personally."
His voice cracked, barely. Then hardened. "Secondly, your choice in seconds gives me pause. I know Stoker is your cousin, and it's not my place to question your choices, but I feel like he's been off—strange, somehow, ever since the incident in Mexico with Mateo and Hector. I can't put my finger on it. However, I believe that you need someone looking out for your best interests. I want to offer myself as your backup."
Raven stayed silent, sensing more was to come from his dark expression. He nodded in agreement.
"Thirdly, I want the man responsible for Hector's death," Uncle San said. "I want him found. And I want him to pay—with his life. Slowly."
He let the words settle on Raven heavy as ash.
"Your father wasn't just a Chapo to me. He was a friend. He was the backbone of the Kings. Whoever took him out didn't just break a man—they fractured the foundation of the Kings organization—no disrespect to you, Raven. I believe you'll make him proud, leading in his place. But the fact that I wasn't there to protect him?" He shook his head. "It doesn't sit right with me. I feel like I owe him, owe you my skills to find the person responsible."
He reached into his coat, pulled out a cigar, clipped the tip, and lit it. Smoke curled around his face; the scent of the smoke reminded Raven of his father.
"I'd like your permission," he said, voice low. "To hunt them down. To be the one who ends them." He pulled a flask from his coat pocket and drank deeply while he waited for Raven's reply.
Raven nodded once, slowly. "Nothing would make me happier; you honor me, San— and my father—. Follow me to my office. Let's lay some groundwork for a plan. But if you don't mind, there is something else I want you to look into for me first; I'd rather talk about it in private."
Raven placed his hand on his shoulder, guiding him out of the still crowded room, "He loved you; you know Raven. He was just afraid to tell you, afraid someone else would see you as a weakness in him and try to take you away from him, like they did your mother. He was like that —Hector, hard but dedicated."
Raven's heart clenched, but it wasn't just in grief—but also fury at himself. At the silence he'd let continue between them over the years. If he'd said it, maybe they wouldn't have spent their last years circling each other like strangers with matching scars, afraid of love.
As they made their way to his office, his phone rang again. Unknown Caller. He didn't recognize the number flashing on his screen but answered anyway.
"Hello." He answered.
"Is this Mr. Raven Cordoba?" The female voice on the line asked.
"Yes, who's calling"? His words were impatient, his tolerance for the conversation already beginning to wane as he sat down at his desk. He motioned for Uncle San to take a seat across from him.
"This is nurse Diana Slaughter at Marina Del Rey Hospital."
