Page 49 of The Collector

"You're not alone in this," he said, voice low. "Not anymore."

He meant it—every word. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was bluffing when he talked to a woman.

Chapter 14

Mynx

The first week at the mansion flew by in a blur—shopping trips, the Cabo getaway, a visit to the salon, and a full-on pampering session with the beautician. Mynx rolled with it, mostly keeping to herself.

The other performers kept to themselves. Everyone had their own rhythm, their own routines, their own little circles. No one seemed particularly interested in making room for someone new, and Mynx wasn't about to force it. She wasn't here to bond over lashes and stage lights. Small talk drained her. Surface-level friendships didn't stick.

She nodded when spoken to, kept things polite, but mostly stayed quiet. Let them do their thing while she focused on hers. It wasn't personal—it was just easier that way. She spent more time with Destiny than anyone else. They clicked in a way that required little effort. It just felt easy. No forced conversation, no pretending. If Destiny ended up being her only real friend in the house, that would be fine. Mynx could live with that.

She'd only seen Raven once since they got back from Cabo, from across the room. But she didn't take it personally. He'd mentioned on the flight that his dad was flying in soon and they had a big meeting lined up. She figured he had enough going on without her adding to it.

Still, she missed him. Missed the way he looked at her when no one else was around. Missed how her body responded when he touched her—how everything else dropped away. Just thinking about it made her restless. Made her want to find him, pull him close, and let him remind her exactly who she belonged to.

She'd really only ever opened up about her personal life with her mom. Having Raven and Destiny to talk to this past week was the only thing that kept her from spiraling over what was happening back home. Her mom wasn't an option right now—not with her health the way it was. Mynx refused to add more weight to what her mother was already carrying. So, she kept most of it to herself. Let it spill into her diary instead. That helped, in its own quiet way. Especially when it came to Raven, the feelings she had for him weren't simple, and writing them down made them feel a little less overwhelming. A little less confusing.

Working out helped too. Since Mynx hadn't been able to get the dopamine rush being around Raven usually gave her, it helped burn off some of the anxiety building around tomorrow's performance.

Destiny had taken her to the club the previous day, given her the whole tour, and walked her through how her opening number would proceed. They selected the music, timed the release of the butterflies, and reviewed what she was supposed to do once she got off stage. The setup wasn't all that different from what she'd done at Cover Girls'—same kind of flow, same kind of prep. The only real difference was the clientele—and that, she could already tell, was going to be a whole other game.

She spotted Elanah down the hall, walking her way. Mynx had done her best to avoid her since the coffee incident—especially after hearing what Destiny had to say about how Elanah felt about Raven. It was only a matter of time before she saw them together and figured out they'd been spending time with each other.

Was that what she was calling it— spending time together?

It felt like more. Like something electric humming beneath the surface every time Raven looked at her, every time their hands brushed, and neither of them moved. But putting a label on it felt too soon. Too fragile. Like, naming it might ruin whatever this was. So, she kept it quiet. Let it live in her head, in the spaces between texts and glances. It was hers, even if she was the only one carrying it.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Elanah said, her voice syrupy and sharp as she stepped into Mynx's path. "If it isn't Blood Lust's newest trifling little man thief."

Mynx didn't blink. She'd seen that look before, sweet on the surface, venom underneath. Elanah aimed her words to wound, but they missed. Mynx didn't flinch. She held her gaze, let the venom slide past without reaction. Elanah wanted to rattle her, wanted to see her break—but Mynx refused to give her the satisfaction.

"Cute," Mynx said, brushing past her without slowing down. "You rehearse that in the mirror, or does it just come naturally?"

Elanah didn't miss a beat. "Sounds like something a defensive gold digger would say. I heard you went away with Raven. You can fuck him all you want, but just know—he'll end up with me."

Mynx turned, calm but curious. "Why's that, Elanah?"

"Because you don't have an inch of the class or intelligence I do," Elanah snapped. "And you clearly have no idea what being the wife of a Chapo actually means. If anyone's going to get himto commit, it's someone who knows how to carry herself at his side. You think looks alone make you a queen?"

The words hit harder than Mynx expected. Not because they were true—but because part of her feared they might be. What if Raven was just passing time with her, like he'd done with other performers before? What if she were just another distraction, another pretty face he'd forget once the thrill wore off?

She didn't let her insecurities show.

"Fuck off, Elanah--You don't know me. Or what I'm capable of. You're grasping at straws, hoping I'll be dumb enough to buy into your bullshit. If Raven wanted to be with you, he would be. The fact that you think he has to hide his intentions just proves you don't know him at all. Now, why don't you go back to painting your nails or whatever it is you do when you're not playing games with people's emotions?"

She didn't wait for a response. Let Elanah stand there with her claws out and her pride bruised. Mynx had bigger things to worry about than petty drama and insecure girls clinging to men like trophies.

Even so, the doubt lingered. Quiet. Persistent. It followed Mynx down the hall like a shadow she couldn't shake. Raven hadn't talked to her since they'd been back. What if Elanah was right? What if he just wanted to fuck her and forget her?

No, that couldn't be right. I felt it; I felt the connections we shared, and so did Raven. I could see it.

Back in her room, she finally exhaled. Her hands were trembling—anger, adrenaline, maybe both raged through her body.

Fuck Elanah and anyone else who can't see my potential.

She needed to get it out of her head, off her chest. Writing usually helped. She reached for her diary, already flipping through what she wanted to say—how Elanah's words hadcrawled under her skin, how Raven's silence was starting to feel louder than it should.