Page 92 of The Collector
When she finally spoke, her voice was low. Measured. Like Emily was trying to soften the edges of something that couldn't quite be softened.
"It was poison, Raven. And not just any kind—a complex, sophisticated poison. The kind that requires serious medical knowledge to craft."
Raven's jaw tightened. "So it was a hit?"
"If I had to guess, yes. But here's the part that matters—the poison wasn't random. Whoever did this either had an intimate relationship with your mother… or access to her poison journals." Raven stopped walking. He tried to understand the implications of the information thoroughly.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because the poison was one of her signature recipes. Modified slightly—," she paused before continuing, "but the base formula was hers. That twist was a personal touch that made it the killer's unique formula. Whoever did this wanted you to know this was personal." She cleared her throat. "If I were you, I would consider who had access to that information to help you determine who might be responsible."
Silence stretched between them. Raven's pulse thudded in his ears. There was no way. Everything he'd done last night—every risk he'd opened the Kings up to; every drop of blood he'd spilled —meant nothing. Done nothing, except bring on a war. He reigned in his thoughts, refocusing on the conversation.
"If I had to guess," Doctor Emily added, "I'd say the hit came from within our ranks. Please be careful until you know more." The doctor's voice softened.
"Thanks, Doc, for figuring this out so fast. I trust you'll see that he's ready for burial?"
"I'll prepare him, Raven… I'm so sorry for your loss."
Raven arrived at his room and used his key card to gain access. He stared at the phone for a beat too long, then set it down on his dresser like it might burn him.
He moved. Focused his movements on necessities for a moment while he let the conversation wash over him.Shower, dress. I have no time to unravel.
Raven needed to mobilize Shelby and Stoker. The time for waiting had passed—he had to set plans in motion. The day was already slipping through his fingers, and someone inside the mansion was playing God. He needed to find out who, while managing the fallout from what he'd done to the Stallions.
Steam curled around him, fogging the mirror and muffling the world outside. The water beat down like an interrogation on his mind—steady, relentless. Raven leaned into the tile, eyes closed, searching his memory like it was a crime scene.Who had access to his mother's belongings?
He was only aware of four people. Himself. His father. And two others—Shelby and Stoker.
Shelby was loyal. Quiet. Not a killer. She didn't have the stomach for it, and she'd never had reason to hate his father.
Stoker? That was harder. He and his father had history—a bond. Stoker had been closer to his father than Raven'd everbeen. If anything, Stoker had more reason to protect him than destroy him. So why did it feel like something wasn't adding up? He scrubbed his face, trying to wash away the doubt. But it clung to him, sticky and persistent.
Either he was missing something… or someone was playing a game he couldn't quite figure out the rules for.
He dressed quickly. His phone notifications were dinging nonstop at this point. Everyone was waiting; the Kings were at a standstill while he gathered his thoughts and figured out a plan of action.
5:30 A.M. Shelby- What can I do to help this morning
6:30 A.M. Shelby - Special Agent Blackwell called. He needs to see you ASAP. It's related to the DNA found at the crime scene. What should I tell him?
6:31 A.M Raven- Schedule a meeting with Agent Blackwell at 9:00 A.M —if he will wait that long.
6:32 A.M. Stoker- The meeting with the Underbosses is set for 7:30 this morning in the room on the veranda. What else do you need from me?
Raven sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. He stayed like that for a moment—still, silent, bracing.
He pushed Mynx out of his mind.
Pushed his father's death aside. Pushed the image of the killer—whoever they were—into the farthest corner of his thoughts.
He had an organization to run. And the clock was ticking. He added Shelby and Stoker to a group text.
6:48 A.M. Raven, Shelby, can you work with Stoker after our meeting this morning to get security in place for the transfers? After everyone is gone, initiate lockdown procedures for all of our locations. Until we get a handle on the Stallions' situation, we need to minimize our risk of a breach—no one in or out without Stoker's or my permission. Stoker, pick your best man to assist Shelby with anything she might need security-wise while we are tied up.
6:48 A.M. Shelby- What about Mynx? Do you want her here with you or at a safehouse?
6:49 A.M. Stoker: Her sister called this morning. Her mother has taken a turn for the worse. I've arranged transportation for her and my best security detail to take her to them. Cyndi said the nurse told her she might not make it through the day.