Chapter 24
Raven
Raven stirred, the chill nudging him deeper beneath the blankets. His thoughts surfaced slowly. He blinked, remembering—where he was, what happened yesterday. Mynx lay beside him, warm and soft, her body curled against him.
Her scent of vanilla and honey wrapped around him, grounding him. He nudged closer, inhaling deeply, wishing he could anchor himself here all day, wrapped in her warmth and the rhythm of her heartbeat.
He watched her chest rise and fall, each breath pulling him further from thoughts of his father, Raul. He didn't deserve this—her love, her trust, the comfort she offered without hesitation.
Last night, she had molded to him, filled voids he hadn't known existed. She'd seen the blood on his hands and still wanted him.
Dawn broke pale and gray. Birds sang. But Raven felt Death looming, sickle raised, ready to strike the Kings. A prickle of anxiety crawled down his spine.
"Just five more minutes," he thought, shaking the image away.
He studied her face—the pout of her lips, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks. She was stunning. Full of life. Curled against him like he was someone worth keeping.
Not a monster. Not the man who buried enemies and made the hard choices to protect the Kings.
He had traded mercy for power, love for loyalty. And now, with his father gone, the weight of leadership pressed heavier than ever.
But Mynx was here. Flesh and blood. Proof that something good could still exist.
She stirred with a soft snore, adjusting against the pillow. She accepted him. And Raven didn't know what that said about her—or about the man he might become because of it.
All he knew was that it felt right.
He lingered, memorizing the flutter of her breath, the glow of her skin in the spill of dawn. She was peace. He was ruin. And somehow, they fit together—two broken pieces locking into something that felt whole.
He wanted to stay. God help him, he wanted to stay. To relish in the quiet, the silence she gave the demons that roared inside his head—just for a moment.
He'd taken her three times and watched her break — surrender to him, to what they were becoming to each other. She'd succumbed to his hunger, shattered against him as their shared desire rose and crested through the night.
Raven smiled, remembering how she'd taken him so beautifully. Her every gasp, every tremor was stored in his mind and would keep him grounded today.
He pulled back from her still sleeping form, careful not to wake her.
Take-downs were never clean. No one fought fair.
There were no rules in war—only survival, and whatever you could get away with before the blowback came swinging.
And it always came. In the most unpredictable, violent ways.
He needed to cover every angle. Secure every base, anticipate every betrayal.
And he couldn't do that from beside her. Not with her warmth softening his hard edges. Not with her breath anchoring him to a version of himself that couldn't survive what he needed to be.
He dressed in silence; the expectations of the day pressing on him as he watched in the mirror. He looked rough.
"Mm, where are you going?" She asked, her voice still thick with sleep. She rubbed at her eyes to wipe it away from them.
"I have to go. Today is going to be— hectic. I have a lot on my plate. But that shouldn't keep you from resting." Mynx reached out and pulled him towards her. Her smile was warm and sincere as she tried to pull him back to bed.
Raven kissed her on her forehead, knowing if he did more, he wouldn't have the strength to walk out of this room.
"I can't," he said, pulling back from her. "Why don't you snuggle back in for more sleep or go take a hot bubble bath. I'll be back in a few hours to check on you." She yawned.
"Sleep, I need more sleep." She rolled back over, and he tucked the covers around her.
"Raven, don't lose yourself out there today. Come back to me. I'm not through with you. Remember what we have and live through it—for me." The words were a murmur, her voice soft and waning as sleep began to wrap her back in its embrace.
"Sleep well, Butterfly."
Raven slid the harness of his gun holsters over his shoulder, tucked his blade at his ankle, and stepped into the hallway where impending war awaited him.
A sense of limbo gripped the mansion. Guards walked the hallways on full alert, radios buzzed with check-ins, and phones rang; tension was present in every movement, every conversation.
His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID before answering.
"What do you have for me, Doc? Were you able to determine a cause of death?"
Silence. Not the kind that meant nothing. The kind that meant everything. He could hear her breathing—slow, deliberate, like she was choosing her words one by one, weighing how much truth he could take.
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 ever been.
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?