Chapter 27
Raven
Raven sat in the chair beside Stoker's bed, unsure whether he could honestly believe the man before him was Stoker.
"Tell me everything—," Raven said, his voice low. "I need to know I can trust what you're saying, so give me as much detail as you can."
Stoker exhaled slowly and steadily. "After the fallout between you and my father, I needed some distance. Cabo seemed far enough, so I rented a villa and planned to disappear for a while. But on the second day, someone came for me. He took me without a word."
He paused, his eyes darkening. "I never saw his face and never heard his name.
Initially, he neither asked for information nor offered any explanations.
I wasn't sure where I was most of the time," Stoker repeated, quieter now.
"No windows. No clocks. Just a room in the dark surrounded by bars.
Sometimes food. Sometimes nothing. I started counting heartbeats to stay sane.
I didn't even know how long I had been gone until today. "
Raven leaned forward, studying Stoker intently, his jaw clenched.
The image of his closest friend—his blood—reduced to a prisoner in a locked room, made his stomach turn.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?
Tell me something, anything that will convince me it's you.
" Raven felt in his bones this was his cousin, but he needed something real, something tangible to tie it all together. Confirm it.
Stoker's jaw tightened. "I don't understand why you're questioning my identity. Don't you recognize me? I've been your best friend your entire life. I should be offended. Hell, maybe I am. Or maybe I'm just pissed off in general."
He leaned in closer, his voice low and his eyes blazing with something that looked like betrayal.
"Because if I weren't Stoker, I wouldn't remember the scar behind your left ear, or the time you shattered your wrist jumping off the bodega roof to impress Selena in high school.
I wouldn't remember how you cried when your mother died—but only after the room emptied and you thought no one was watching. "
Raven didn't flinch; the words struck him like a slow knife.
He could feel the memories surfacing; it had been a long time since he had thought about the day his mother died.
He didn't speak, didn't need to. Stoker had known how much the truth would affect him.
It was why he chose them to prove himself to him.
In that moment, something inside him shifted—seismically, and he knew.
This was Stoker. Some memories could be faked, rehearsed, whispered into an imposter's ear, but not that one.
Not the one about his mother. No one knew he'd cried—not even his father.
He was nine then, still soft in places she'd touched, still carrying pieces of her in his soul, not just the harshness of the man who raised him, hadn't been fully transitioned into the hardened killer his father made him into.
Stoker had spoken the one truth that only he and Raven shared, which would undoubtedly confirm his identity.
Raven nodded. "There's something you should know. The man who took you—Santiago and I—believe he's your twin. That's why I asked you to prove your identity. You're identical. I needed to be certain. I hope you can forgive me."
Stoker didn't speak. He didn't blink. The words hung in the air around him like smoke— impossible to grasp but also impossible to ignore. Twin. Not just a stranger. Not just a monster. Blood. Raven could almost see the pieces clicking into place on Stoker's face.
"My brother?" he finally spoke, his voice cracking at the edges. "Then why would he do this to me? Why wouldn't he just come home to us if he belonged to the Cordoba family?"
Raven's gaze didn't waver. "Your guess is as good as mine. But if I had to wager... I'd say he feels like he's owed your life over his own. He's been living as you for two years, after all."
Stoker's breath hitched. "Two years," he repeated, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less cruel. "Then why not kill me? Why keep me alive? If he just wanted to assume my identity."
Raven hesitated, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "If I had to guess... there's a bigger plan in motion. And we're only seeing the edges of it."
"I know you need time to process this. I had to confirm you were who you claimed to be—before we left. But right now, I need to get you out. Your brother's with someone I care about deeply, and if anything happens to her…"
"He wore my clothes," he whispered. "Sat at my table. Touched people I love. And I was just... a ghost of myself in a locked room. That has to be the worst invasion of someone's life possible. But there's one thing I do know, he won't live long to regret it."
Raven moved to get Stoker out of the bed, pushing him into a waiting wheelchair.
Stoker's voice hardened as he continued working through his anger, hardly registering Raven moving him. "Take me with you, let me be the one to beat the answers out of his ass. Let me have that. Let me show him how the real Stoker hands shit."
Raven leaned in, his voice steady, low. "We'll get answers. You're not ready. You need more rest first. But when you are, he'll be the only one who knows what it feels like to be erased."
Stoker didn't respond. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, as if he were still trying to stitch together the fragments of his stolen life.
"I need to find him—fast. He said he was heading to Mynx's house to oversee her security personally—" Raven paused, the word catching in his throat.
It wasn't fear; it was recognition, the kind that rewires a man.
"Mynx is important, Stoker, I love her," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Stoker looked up, seemingly startled by the confession, by the vulnerability in Raven's face.
"I need to make sure she's safe," Raven said, regaining the edge in his voice.
"I need to get him into an interrogation room and find out what I can.
There are numerous moving pieces in the King's world right now—too many to discuss at the moment.
I'll ask Uncle San to explain after we get you situated.
I'm going to have to ask you to trust me, even though that might be hard for you right now. "
"I've always trusted you, Raven. Should have trusted that you had this family's best interest at heart two years ago. And maybe I wouldn't have gone through this bullshit. Let's get outta here. Come on, move."
Raven nodded.
"You don't have to worry; we'll get to the bottom of this. Because this isn't just about you anymore—it's about us. And if there is one thing, we Cordobas are good at, it's breaking a man to get what we want."
Raven opened the door and motioned for San to come into the room, just as his phone rang.
"Yeah!" Raven shouted into the phone.
"Boss, it's Jeremy. I'm with Mynx—part of her detail today—but something's happening at her house. The police are here, and they've detained us. Blackwell only let me use my phone to call you. They want you here. Now."
Raven felt his pulse race. Sirens wailed in the background—distant but getting closer. His chest tightened with anxiety. He should have gone with her. He should have protected her himself.
"Where the hell is Mynx?" he snapped.
Jeremy hesitated. "We heard gunshots— Before we could get inside, the FBI showed up. Word is Pierre Le Grange is inside— dead. If the women are inside, they've hidden themselves really well. Blackwell said Peirre was alone inside. I'd say they're gone, boss."
Raven froze. "What about Stoker? Is he there with you? "He paced the room as the words sank in.
"No, haven't heard from him. Is he supposed to be here?
There's something else," Jeremy added, voice dropping to a whisper.
"The FBI says Pierre was the Collector. Well—they didn't exactly tell us that piece of information—we overheard two of the lab techs talking about being extra careful so the evidence would hold up. "
Raven's blood went cold. The urge to find Mynx—to see her, touch her, shield her— no longer a flicker of thought, but a need, raw and consuming. He needed to know she was alive, to feel it. To hold her in his arms. It was time to go now.
"Don't give them anything," he said, voice like steel. "Do they know the women were there?"
"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.