Chapter 20
Collector
Everything was going just as planned.
The Collector watched the video feed from Blood Lust on his phone as the events unfolded.
The buzz of anticipation sent his pulse racing with excitement.
The moment things were going to start turning his way had just arrived.
He watched the slim brunette deliver the tray of drinks to Raven and Hector's table.
The waitress was completely unaware she was the delivery system for his poisoned glass, that she was a tool—he'd used to perfection.
The glass passed through her hands with such innocence—even she didn't know it was laced.
He'd slipped the cup onto her tray himself, moments before Elanah and Raven's quarrel sparked down the hallway.
When Raven requested her removal from the club, it offered the perfect opportunity to avoid being present.
Convenient. But somewhat calculated— just one more flawless brushstroke in a portrait of destruction he'd been composing for weeks.
Getting rumors to circulate throughout the mansion—that Raven was still obsessed with Elanah, and that Mynx was merely a stand-in—had been a stroke of brilliance.
Carefully planted gossip, passed between maids with lowered voices and guards who never thought twice about pillow talk they shared with the women they fawned over, fanned insecurities into flame.
It had been the perfect emotional trigger, crafted to feel accidental.
He hadn't needed Elanah to believe the rumors right away.
He just needed her addiction to Raven to fester beneath the surface until tonight.
He'd seen her go into Mynx's room and take her things.
He knew she'd be the perfect tool to cause a distraction tonight, so he manipulated even her closest friends to edge her towards a confrontation with him tonight.
Manipulation was his specialty. Not the loud kind—not threats or tantrums. No, his was the artful variant.
The kind stitched into silences, pressed into the spaces between words.
Even the mask he wore daily was a tool—a carefully curated lie sculpted to draw admiration, to deflect suspicion, to pull people into his orbit before they ever knew what they'd lost.
They saw what he wanted them to see. Polish. Intelligence. Charm.
But beneath that? A killers soul hid. Cold, calculating built to extract, to reorder, to erase.
He didn't just wear the mask. He became it—until even he almost forgot where the fiction ended and the architecture began.
And it worked. Tonight, Elanah'd confronted Raven. Not with logic, but with wounded pride. With longing. With fury. And in doing so, she'd open herself up to the exact manipulation he'd been orchestrating.
There was beauty in the mess. In the heartbreak. In watching people crumble in ways that made the blade slide cleaner when it came time for the death blow.
The irony of the poison, created from foxglove flowers, the Collector used tonight, lay in the fact that it had come from Hector's gardens behind the mansion.
Raven's mother, Octavia, had truly been the perfect partner for Hector, who was an outright killer.
She had been a silent one, taking out their enemies at will with poisons.
She cultivated many herbs and flowers in her gardens, which helped her create her elixirs of death.
No one had thought to remove them after her death.
Little did the love of his life know that her deadly flowers would ultimately take him out.
The Collector hoped she was rolling in her grave. She deserved to feel his vengeance, too.
The Collector's timing for allowing the poison to take effect was perfectly synchronized with the meeting. The opportunity to make Raul out to be the killer was one he was proud to have recognized.
Hector was dead.
Everything unraveled exactly how he imagined it. One cough. One nod. One body slumped over polished teakwood and glass. And Raven... Raven had taken the bait beautifully. The plan had been executed with utter perfection.
Raven would be ready to start an all-out war to make Raul pay for a sin he didn't even commit.
Perfect…. Absofuckinglutly perfect.
It would keep him and even his uncle busy for days, if not weeks. Perhaps if the Collector got lucky, the body count of the Kings would dwindle to nothing, leaving the underbosses vulnerable and easier to target.
Being able to access the surveillance equipment at the club without notice was brilliant.
It allowed him to watch the events as they unfolded and revel in that cold bastard's death.
The fact that the FBI had located DNA evidence put a glitch in his plans; he would now need to speed up his timeline.
Because they were about to pinpoint who the Collector was.
He had a few days, maybe a week, before they figured out who he was.
Well not who he was— but who the Collector was.
If he hadn't completed his plans by then, he may never be able to accomplish what he set out to do fully.
He'd also spotted something else that would benefit him while watching the video.
Pierre La Grange had also taken the bait he set for him.
The predator was successfully stalking Mynx; he watched her from the wings of the stage.
He was a perfect patsy for plans already in place for her.
He would have to be dealt with sooner or later, but for now, his interest proved beneficial.
Predators don't compete. They coexisted—until one succeeded in consuming the other.
Taking him out and getting him out of the way would be tricky.
The man was cunning if not as diabolical as himself.
Luring Mynx away from the club would be his next goal.
That one was easier. He knew what was important to her.
She'd made that fact well known to everyone since the beginning of her arrival at the mansion.
Losing her would break Raven into so many pieces at that point that his will to live would be gone.
It would be the nail in his coffin, making killing him almost too easy.
He couldn't wait to see his face when he found her bloody corpse stripped of all its flesh in the mausoleum.
As he pulled up to the cabin, he checked the surroundings to make sure everything was as it should be. Bringing Elanah here was a risk, but one he had to take. He needed her to complete the picture he was painting to leave behind.
"Let's go," he said. Securing his phone in the glovebox and locking it as he opened his door to exit.
"Where are we?" Elanah asked, her brows furrowed as she took in the secluded area outside.
"My cabin," he replied, already stepping into the gravel. "You'll be safe here while I put things in motion. I'm going to fix everything. You and Raven will be together again. I need you to stay here while I take care of the details that will make it happen."
Stepping out of the car, her heel sank awkwardly into the gravel.
The uneven ground shifted beneath her, and her ankle twisted sharply to the side.
A startled yelp escaped Elanah—sharp, unguarded, and distinctly ungraceful.
She landed hard, palms scraping against cool stones, curls tumbling into her face as the silence of the woods absorbed her fall.
The Collector didn't rush to her side.
He stepped forward—not to help, but to observe. One beat passed. Then two.
"You all right?" he asked, voice clipped. Not with concern, but curiosity.
"Fine— I may need you to help me inside, though."
He reached for her hand. Being sympathetic was a struggle for him, but he still needed her to comply with him until he got her inside.
"It's very—rustic, here… I must admit that I've never been particularly fond of the outdoors.
Maybe you should take me to a hotel." Elanah struggled to right herself, even with his assistance.
The tight dress she wore was no longer elegant, but a wrinkled reminder of misplaced confidence as she struggled to regain her balance.
Gravel clung to her hem, a smear of dirt darkened her knee, and the chilly breeze cut through the thin fabric as though nature itself had turned against her.
The Collector said nothing, but his grip didn't loosen. He held his tongue, fighting the urge to kill her. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started the walk to the cabin with her in tow.
He guided her up the steps—not with care, but calculation. Her discomfort was useful. It made her pliable. Vulnerable.
Inside, the cabin was sparse but comfortable, maybe a little dusty, but it would be sufficient for her needs.
"You'll be comfortable enough here," he said, his tone sterile as he looked over the familiar surroundings. It lacked the luster of the mansion; he'd need to offer Elanah some assurances to make her feel comfortable. "It's temporary. You'll be gone before it gets unbearable."
Elanah blinked, brushing pine needles from her hair as she took in the space.
"You said we would do this together. How will I be able to help you if I am stuck here in the middle of no man's land?"
"Patience— Elanah— you have to learn to have patience.
Everything you need to know will be revealed to you in time.
But you have to trust me. Now, let me show you the room where you'll be staying.
It's just over here, past the fireplace.
When I go to town, I'll pick up some things for you to make your stay here more comfortable.
Until then— I have some clothes you can wear.
You can get a shower and relax. I'll even build you a fire before I leave.
How does that sound?" He needed her guard down, needed her complaint.
He hoped the allure of relaxing would keep her that way.