Chapter 27 #2
Cop cars flanked both ends of the street, their lights casting frantic pulses across the pavement.
Blue and red strobes bounced off windows, bathing the neighborhood in their surreal glow— in a laser show choreographed by death.
The emergency hues illuminated every building for blocks.
News vans clustered on the sides of the street; their satellite dishes raised, sniffing out any ounce of information they could broadcast on the evening news.
Reporters paced behind caution tape, microphones in hand, eyes hungry.
Cameras pointed at the front door, waiting for something—anything—to emerge.
Yellow tape sliced the air around the house, taut and unforgiving.
A barrier between spectacle and tragedy.
Between what the public wanted to see and what Raven couldn't bear to.
Please be alive, Mynx. I just found you.
I'm not ready to lose you. He stepped out of the car, the weight of dread pressing against his chest. The coroner's van sat ominously in the driveway, its back doors yawning open.
Two techs wheeled a black body bag out the front door and into the waiting van.
He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer.
Please, no more bodies. Please let Mynx still be out there.
His phone buzzed—Shelby was reinstalling the tracker app remotely.
The signal had glitched, and Raven didn't have time to wait for clean data.
Not with Blackwell and Ames already on-site, waiting to question him.
He stepped out, jaw tight, eyes scanning the chaos.
This needed to be quick. He had no interest in the details of what Pierre had done or how they had fingered him in this moment.
Mynx was out there. And Stoker's brother was a looming threat to them all.
The Stallions also had to be aware that Raul had been lost to them by this point.
He was waiting for retaliation to jump off at any moment.
Now he had the added layer of what the Godfathers were going to say about Peirre to deal with.
Every second wasted here was a second she might be slipping further out of reach. That one of the King's enemies might find her.
Fuck he needed this app to start working. Where are you, Mynx? He shoved his phone in his pocket and stood at the end of the driveway. Blackwell exited the house just as he did.
"Mr. Cordoba, glad you could make it." Blackwell stood on the other side of the caution tape as if it were a barrier to the outside world, hands tucked neatly in his pockets, legs spread like he owned the scene that was playing out behind him.
"Blackwell—I hear you have the man you were looking for. I'm not sure what I'm doing here."
"I just wanted to ask you a few final questions before we close this case out. I assume your men already told you that we found Pierre dead inside. He took one to the chest and two to the head."
"I'd say that's unfortunate, but is it really if what you're saying is true?" Raven crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Blackwell with no remorse.
"Not in this case," the agent said, voice clipped but steady. "My partner and I called this morning to speak with you about Pierre—wanted to confirm his identity as The Collector and get your insight on his whereabouts."
Raven's jaw flexed, but he said nothing.
"That DNA we found," the agent continued.
"It matches Pierre's. And we've recovered additional evidence—items we believe link him to several other murders attributed to the Collector.
" He paused, letting the information settle.
"We were planning to take him into custody today.
We were hoping you'd cooperate. But as you can see, that's no longer necessary.
Your men stood outside while someone murdered him inside.
They claim they had nothing to do with it. So who took him out?"
"No clue who would've taken him out. Guy had enemies stacked like poker chips—take your pick. As for my people, they were out doing neighborhood watch. We like to give back when we can."
Blackwell smiled. "I see." He glanced toward the flashing lights down the block.
"I don't have any more questions for now.
But I've got an active crime scene to manage, and we're still tying up loose ends.
Don't leave town, your men either. Ames called for Blackwell over the radio, and he headed back into the house.
Raven's phone dinged with a notification as he walked over to talk to his men. He pulled it out of his pocket to see a text from Shelby.
11:38 A.M. Shelby- Apps running. It's not working correctly. The website says they are still having issues with the system.
11:39 A.M. Raven— Thank you. I'll keep you updated.
Raven opened the Without a Trace app, thumb trembling slightly as the screen loaded. A single blinking green light pulsed on the map—small, insistent, alive on the screen. It was on the other side of town. Holy Cross Cemetery.
His breath caught. Mynx. The signal wasn't just a location. It was a scream. A beacon. A demand: Get here. Now. He prayed the location was accurate.
The cemetery. Of all places. It felt deliberate. Symbolic.
"Time to go, boys. I just got a ping on a possible location for Mynx. Jeremy, you and Tommy follow us, just in case we need backup. I have no clue what we are walking into. Doesn't seem like a location Mynx would pick to hide. I'm pretty sure someone has her."
He glanced at Jeremy, then Tommy. Their faces matched his—cut from the same stone. Ready. Ruthless. Loyal to the bone. Kings to the core.
"Then let's go get her," Jeremy said.
Uncle San drove. Raven couldn't take his eyes off the blinking green dot on his phone. As long as it pulsed, he had hope. Hope she was alive. Hope he could bring her home.
"I'm sorry we didn't get you to the safe house before all this went down, Stoker," Raven said.
Stoker shifted in the seat behind him. "Don't worry about me right now. I know you don't want to hear this, but being here with you—in this moment, on King's business—it's healing me more than any bed rest ever could. I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances. Sorry, your girl's missing."
Raven's jaw tightened. "Could be the Stallions—Could be your brother. At this point, I'm as in the dark as you are. No ransom, no message. I think that's what scares me the most."
Stoker turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You think this might be for some sort of retribution?"
Raven nodded, thumb hovering over the screen. "Yeah. It's possible they took her to make a point."
Uncle San's voice cut through the silence as he eased the car past the rusted gates of Holy Cross Cemetery. "We're here. Time to find out. Everybody packing?"
The gravel crunched beneath the tires like bone.
The cemetery sprawled ahead—rows of headstones, mausoleums, it felt too still, hidden in the grayness of the looming thunderstorms in the sky.
Raven hoped it wasn't a sign of what was to come.
Raindrops landed on the windshield as they pulled up to an old mausoleum that hadn't been cared for properly over the years.
The green dot blinked forty feet from the car now behind the weathered wood door.
This was it.
No more waiting. No more guessing. No more blinking dots on a screen.
Time to get her back—dead or alive.