Epilogue
Mynx reached across the cool satin sheets, searching for Raven.
His side was empty. It had taken months—long, fractured months for her to sleep through the night.
But now she could, thanks to him. His patience and quiet understanding.
She fought through her fears. It had taken a few weeks before she could even stand to be alone again.
Cyndi was coming home today. Killing Marcus hadn't left her with guilt or grief—not the way they expected.
It had stripped something deeper, something finite in her, and changed her at the root.
The woman had unraveled under Marcus's hands, thread by thread, until all that remained was wreckage—and from that wreckage, something else began to form.
That metamorphosis demanded silence, demanded time.
After the mausoleum, she stopped speaking.
Her voice didn't break—it vanished. Her eyes stayed fixed on something distant, something no one else could see.
She wasn't grieving. She was gone. And whatever came back in her place wasn't asking to be understood.
If Mynx was being honest with herself, that was what scared her the most.
Raven and Mynx searched everywhere—clawing through referrals, reputations, and whispered promises—until they found a psychiatric treatment center discreet enough to take Cyndi in.
The kind they could buy off. Not just for care.
But to keep the incident buried. Marcus's death hadn't been just a trauma.
It was a liability to them all. And Cyndi, in her broken silence, had become a threat to them all.
They'd hoped the treatment would be enough to bring her back.
Enough to stitch her psyche back together.
But hope was a fragile thing. And Cyndi had always been made of glass.
Mynx sat on the edge of the bed now, staring at the door and wondering if Cyndi would walk through it today whole or if the shards of her soul would still be sharp.
The doctors thought it best she had space to heal on her own.
They'd only visited for family days in group settings.
She was still distant with Mynx, so different from the girl who had clung to her six months ago and begged her not to come to Blood Lust.
Mom was doing well. During the course of Marcus's plans to take down the Kings, he signed her up for an experimental treatment to get her out of the picture.
It turned out to have been the best thing to come out of the situation.
She was at the moment in remission. Still weak, still tethered to quiet routines, but slowly reclaiming pieces of herself.
She now lives in the West wing. Alone. Her father was gone.
Marcus killed him the day of the abduction.
Some of Raven's men found him a mile from the house with his throat sliced, eyes still open like he'd died in shock.
She wasn't happy that he was gone, but he'd put their whole family in danger.
Mynx was still very angry with him. She hoped that over time, the sting of his betrayal would lessen, and she could make room in her heart to forgive him and properly grieve his loss.
But forgiveness was a long road. More than anything, she wanted her mother to find comfort.
She was having trouble coping with his loss.
He'd been the only man she ever loved, ever been with her entire life, and the fact that he was gone made her remission harder to manage.
It would take time for her grief to pass. But at least she had time.
The door to her room slid open quietly. Mynx tensed until she saw it was Raven. He pulled a service cart behind him. The scent of toasted bread and dark roast filled the room, grounding her.
He didn't speak at first. Just moved with quiet precision, like he'd done this a hundred times.
The cart glided to a stop. Steam curled from the coffee.
"Good morning, Butterfly," he said, voice low.
"Good morning, love." Her eyes searched his face. "Where have you been so early? I couldn't find you." By now, Raven knew how she took her coffee. He poured her a cup, added two sugars and an ample amount of cream, and then handed it to her before sitting down beside her on the bed.
"I had to meet with the Godfathers. They flew in this morning for an in-person meeting.
" He leaned in and brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed her on the neck.
"They wake before sunrise and speak while the world sleeps.
They whisper secrets into the dark, as if truth only survives in the hush before morning breaks. "
"You should have told me. I'd have gone with you."
"You've got enough on your plate with Cyndi coming home today. I didn't want to upset you or our little ones," Raven said, laying his hand gently on the slight swell at her waist.
Mynx smiled softly at his gesture. They hadn't planned for this and had wanted more time together first—time to explore their love without the weight of futures and fragile things.
But life didn't wait. And now, beneath Raven's hand, something irreversible was growing.
She wasn't sure if she was ready. Wasn't sure if she could be soft enough, steady enough, safe enough after the emotional rollercoaster she'd been on.
But she was trying. For him. For the children.
For the versions of herself and Raven she hadn't met yet.
The upcoming birth of the twins should've been joy—pure and unshaken.
But after Marcus and Stoker, the fact that they were having twins felt ironic.
Like fate was twisting the moment, holding her happiness at gunpoint.
What if one of them was like Marcus? What if the Cordoba blood carried more than heredity?
She touched her stomach and tried to believe in the innocence of her unborn children.
But fear had already taken root and nested there inside her, growing alongside the hope her children would be normal.
"We're doing just fine. You worry too much." Mynx set down her coffee on the nightstand and moved into his lap, curling into his chest. "So, what did the Godfathers have to say?"
"They're questioning whether keeping me in the Capo seat is smart after everything that's happened," Raven said. "But they've decided to wait to make a final decision. See how I handle the war with the Stallions. See if I can manage it without their interference."
"And what outcome are they hoping for?"
"They want the violence to stop. Quietly. Cleanly." He exhaled. "The beef's cutting into their earnings. They want it buried before it bleeds any more money."
Mynx shifted in his lap, her voice low. "Did they find anything else on Marcus? For you and Stoker?"
"I think they've dug up everything useful they could. There's a file on my desk—when we're ready." He paused, watching her reaction. "Apparently, Grace tried to sell Marcus back to Uncle Mateo. He refused."
"Why?"
"Hard to say. Marcus is gone now, so we'll never know for sure. My guess? She waited too long. Marcus couldn't pass him off as his and Aunt Maria's by then. The damage was done."
"That must've felt like being discarded twice," Mynx murmured. "Do you think that's what broke him?"
"That," Raven said, "and the man who raised him.
" His voice darkened, "Alejandro Mendosa.
The Kings called him The Surgeon. He was the Godfathers' best recourse when someone refused to talk.
He was ruthless, a killer with no conscience.
Perfect for their needs. Until he wasn't." He looked past her, jaw tight.
"Marcus and his son trained together. Got close.
When the boy died on a mission, Alejandro adopted Marcus.
But it wasn't for love. The intention was to help him exact revenge on the Kings for taking his son from him.
We found his journals in a secret compartment at the lake house he had tucked away.
He trained and manipulated Marcus to seek revenge against his own blood family, thereby gaining his own.
Marcus didn't stand a chance—not with a psychopath for a father and grief as the foundation of his identity— at becoming anything normal. "
Mynx shivered. The world she'd stepped into was full of monsters.
Not the kind that lurked in shadows, but the kind that wore tailored suits and spoke in measured tones.
She never knew what to expect when meeting someone new in the organization.
Every introduction felt like a test. Every smile is a mask.
She'd learned to read the eyes first. That's where the truth lived—if it lived anywhere at all—most of the time she had to rely on Raven's guidance.
"Did you check on Elanah this morning? I know yesterday Dr. Emily said she had to give her another round of meds to keep the contractions at bay." Mynx asked with a yawn.
"I've decided to let Stoker handle her health at this point. I did it in the beginning because I knew it would be hard for him to cope with on top of everything else he's had to recover from. But he says he's ready."
"Having your brother imprison you for two years and hijack your life has to be hard enough to deal with. Especially coupled with the fact that he planned to let everything fall in Stoker and Elanah's laps with the Godfather's. I still don't understand why he impregnated Elanah with Stoker's semen."
Raven's jaw tightened.
"If you ask me, it wasn't about biology.
It was about control. Marcus wanted to engineer a version of himself that looked like him—but was born under his own terms— one that might hold a place of power within the Kings when he left.
It was a power move. A way to make sure even the next generation carried his fingerprints.
Because he knew that after the Godfather got wind of what Stoker and Elanah had done, Raven held his fingers up in quotation marks, 'they would be dealt with.
' And he hoped I would be dead. So, he was giving life to the next heir of the King's line. "
"We live in a crazy world," Mynx shook her head.
"Why don't you let me help you forget all that madness for a while?" Raven's voice was low, coaxing. He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of her night shorts, fingers brushing skin with deliberate ease.
His brow lifted suggestively.
Mynx watched him, her breath catching—not from surprise, but from the quiet gravity of his touch.
He wasn't just reaching for her. He was reaching through the chaos.
Trying to remind her that even in a world built on violence and betrayal, there were still moments that belonged only to them.
He wasn't just the man she loved. He was her home—the place where her mind could rest.
The only space that felt safe in a world where safety was a myth.
Maybe—just maybe—that was enough.
Enough to keep her sane in a world that chipped away at sanity like it was irrelevant.
Enough to remind her who she was— His Butterfly.
Look for book two in The Twisted Delusions Duology in 2026 The Collected.