Chapter 10 Mynx #2
"Girl…you are naive, aren't you? A runner smuggles drugs, money, weapons, or anything else someone wants moved. They carry the goods from one point to another, fast and quietly, without drawing attention. Crews use runners to avoid heat, keeping the higher-ups clean while the runner takes the risk. Most don’t ask questions.
The Kings gave my brother an ultimatum: either talk me into paying the debt for him by coming to Blood Lust, or he and his friends would all lose their lives for the disrespect.
He's a dumb ass, but I love him; he's always been there for me; he half-ass raised me after our mother died," Destiny tossed her crust into the box and shrugged.
"So, I decided that I would do this for him.
But hopefully it will help us both in the end.
It's a gamble, I know, but one I hope pays off.
"Gamble, God, I hate that word. It's the reason I'm here.
My father gambled away not only his life but my whole family's," Mynx continued, quietly and ominously.
"And lost. The Kings loaned him the kind of money a man like him could never repay—why, I'll never understand. They must've known how it would end."
Destiny observed her, eyes unreadable. “It probably started as a small loan. They always do. Then it grows— with interest. That’s how loan sharks work. They don’t take everything at once. They bleed you slow. I had an uncle who was big into betting on horses. Brought our family nothing but grief.”
Mynx clenched her fingers against the blanket, her nails leaving impressions in it from her anger. "Either way, here I am. Paying off his debt. His choices, his recklessness—but I'm the collateral."
"Damn… and I thought my brother really did a number on me. Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, we're not gonna let your father's mistakes ruin your future," Destiny muttered, rummaging through the bag she brought.
"Ok, first things first—you need to get a lay of the land and know exactly who you're dealing with.
This binder holds everything you need to know about the members of Blood Lust: their identities, affiliations, positions in life—everything relevant if you're seriously considering marrying into their world. "
Mynx took the binder like it might bite.
It was lighter than she expected—cheap plastic, the kind that warps in heat.
No lock, no seal, no cover label. Just a single inch of paper and ink, supposedly enough to decode a world built on blood, loyalty, and secrets.
She flipped it open, half-expecting a trap.
The first page was blank.
Of course it was.
Destiny lifted her glass, swirling the champagne lazily, watching Mynx as she flipped to the next page with an amused glint in her eye.
"You know," she said, taking a slow sip, "if you're smart, you'll memorize every name, every face, and every detail in that book before next weekend.
You'll need it. It's part of the reason we get to take a week to get acclimated to our new lives here.
So we know what we're getting ourselves into. "
Mynx swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the implications. "Why do you say that?"
“Because every member—especially Hector—is ruthless. Most are killers, one way or another. Cold. Calculated. Heartless. But even monsters need masks. Someone to make them look legitimate. Someone to hide the blood beneath the polish.”
She paused, letting the silence settle like dust.
“You need to know what you’re walking into, who you’re spending time with. Not for love, not for loyalty, but for your survival."
Mynx blinked, the words sinking in like cold water down her spine. She looked at the binder again—its glossy cover, the neat tabs, the curated faces—and suddenly it felt less like a welcome packet and more like an accounting of criminals and thugs.
"So, what do I do? How do I navigate among the members and still make it out of this place with my mind and body intact?"
Destiny smirked, setting her glass down.
"Find one of the people in this book that you can stomach.
Someone who doesn't make your skin crawl and spend your time with them.
Please stay away from Hector and his underbosses.
Go for an up-and-comer that's just trying to fit in.
Once you look past what this book tells you and figure out who they really are, most of the members aren't as bad as they seem. "
Mynx let out a short laugh and shook her head. "That's easier said than done."
Destiny stretched her legs out, getting comfortable.
"Secondly, if you want to make money outside of the arranged marriage arena, stay away from letting someone claim you. It really keeps your opportunities for earning from flowing. There are rules members must abide by when it comes to a claimed performer. The most important thing is that they have to agree to let you spend time with anyone besides themselves. It kind of locks you down to what only they can provide you with financially. Most of these people are so narcissistic they won’t share. "
"What exactly does being claimed mean?" Mynx asked.
"It means that mind, body, and soul you belong to the person who claims you.
That they control your life in its entirety.
It doesn't happen here very often. Most people don't come here looking for love. Make sure you want it before you agree. Once you say yes, you own that choice. Make sure you trust them. Because once you’re claimed, you belong to them—and there’s no undoing that. "
The binder lay open in her lap, but Mynx barely saw the pages. Her eyes skimmed names, affiliations, notes in tight handwriting—but her mind snagged on Destiny’s words. Mind, body, soul. Claimed like territory. Like property. To be broken at will.
She traced a finger down the margin of a man’s profile picture—young, handsome, a smirk frozen in the photo. Beneath it, a single line: Known for breaking what he cannot keep.
Her stomach turned.
Destiny’s voice echoed in her head. Women like you and me are rare here. That wasn’t reassurance—it was a warning wrapped in pretty words. Mynx wasn’t just entering a world of power and danger. She was entering a system designed to consume her, one choice at a time.
She flipped another page. A woman’s face stared back—eyes hollow, smile brittle. Claimed. The word was stamped beside her name in red. From the look on her face the woman seemed to regret her choice.
Mynx swallowed hard. She could memorize every name, every face, every rule. But none of it would matter if she forgot herself.
She closed the binder slowly, spine creaking like a door shutting behind her. “I came here to survive, not to be claimed,” she whispered. The words trembled in her mouth, but she forced them out anyway—like armor she wasn’t sure would hold.
She didn’t look at Destiny when she said it. Didn’t need to. The truth wasn’t for her—it was for herself. A reminder. A line she wasn’t ready to cross, even if part of her already had.
Destiny didn’t respond. She just watched, glass raised, as if to say: We’ll see.
If Mynx remembered correctly, the gym should be down this hall, right at the atrium, and the second door on the left.
She easily pushed open a door, searching the wall for a light switch.
It blinked on before she could locate it; it must be motion-activated.
She eyed the treadmill longingly after all that greasy pizza; she felt weighed down.
She desperately needed a workout. She assumed she would drift off into a comfort food-induced sleep after eating, but she had been wrong.
Instead, she was still wide awake, her body buzzing with too much nervous energy. The room was nearly empty, except for an array of expensive workout machines—each polished, high-end piece of equipment that most people could only dream of owning—waiting to be used.
Pushing in her earbuds, she walked over to the complicated treadmill across the room. Punching buttons until she found the desperately needed fat-burning workout she wanted. The belt hummed to life, sluggish at first but picking up speed.
The mirrored wall in front of her reflected a version of herself she barely recognized.
Her sandy blonde ponytail bounced with each stride, the familiar, almost automatic movement soothing.
However, the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her exhaustion, quietly confessing that she was tired and neglecting the care her body usually received.
She maintained strict discipline over her health.
. Vitamins, clean eating, and daily workouts were second nature to her—routine pieces that kept her feeling sane even when everything else spun out of control.
Unlike some women, Mynx didn’t coast on genetics—she earned her figure.
She trained hard, ate clean, and sculpted every curve with intention and grit.
Each bead of sweat was proof of the fight to maintain control over herself when so much else in her life remained uncertain.
Besides her dreams, workouts seemed to be the only time the stress of life seemed to fade away.
It didn't take long for her to fall into a paced rhythm, syncing the steady cadence of her feet with the speed of the belt.
Death by Romy's "Fuck It" began to play; it suited her mood perfectly.
She lost herself in the moment's motion, the music.
Closing her eyes, she let her worries fade away with the beat of the music.
When she opened them again, Raven was there—watching her like a hungry wolf surveying his prey.
His assessing gaze slid down her body like he was ready to devour her.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she watched him walk into the room.
Her heart felt out of sync at the delicious sight of the dangerous man.
She was out of control. He hit her system like a shot of adrenaline—fast, hot, impossible to ignore.