Chapter 23
Collector
The Collector felt like the walls were beginning to close in on him.
His chest was tight, and his pulse was racing.
Time was running out faster than he wanted.
He had a plan, but he needed to act quickly.
There were so many moving pieces in motion that he was going to need to pull in some extra hands to make it all work.
It would make him more vulnerable, but at this point, he wasn't sure what other options he had left.
The trick would be not letting them know the real master plan.
They needed to think what they were doing was for the Kings and not him.
In the current state of the organization, he didn't think it would be too hard to pull off the illusion.
And if anyone asked too many questions, he would take them out permanently; no one would question their losses. Problem solved.
For an added twist of fate, he'd utilize Thomas to do some of the heaviest lifting in the next part of the plan. The beauty of it was that he wouldn't even know he was helping kidnap his daughters.
The cabin looked quiet as he pulled into the secured driveway.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires, but nothing else stirred.
Wildlife scurried around, running from the beams of his lights.
There were no signs of intrusion. He hadn't had time to monitor the place in the last twelve hours, and that fact had been gnawing at him.
But now, seeing it untouched, the tension in his chest loosened—just a fraction. Enough to think clearly.
He couldn't get ahead of himself. That was how plans unraveled. Step by step, he'd make the plan work. No emotion.
He had two reasons for being here. Elanah. And the prisoner.
Neither posed a threat. Not physically. The prisoner was weak, even if he was leery of him.
He couldn't wait until he saw his face, realized who'd been holding him prisoner.
But he'd dose them both— which was his standard protocol.
There would be no resistance from either of them.
No noise and easy transition to the next temporary cage that would hold them until they both spent the rest of their lives in prison.
Or dead. Either worked for him as long as they both lost any chance at a happy ever fucking after.
By daybreak, they'd be in the trunk. Quiet. Contained.
The mausoleum was ready.
"Two years—Two years of precision, silence, sacrifice. Of watching allies rot in the ground and enemies rise. Of playing the long game while the Kings chased success and expansion."
It'd been excruciating. Just not murdering the King's all in a horrific display of vengeance.
But tomorrow—Tomorrow he'd have everything he ever wanted. And then some."
The "then some" was the part no one saw coming.
Not the Kings. Not Raven. Not his father.
The mausoleum wasn't just another holding cell. It was the beginning of the end for Raven, Mynx, the prisoner, and that slut Elanah.
The Collector heard Elanah struggling as soon as he walked into the cabin.
"Hello—who's there?" she called, pausing a moment, her breath hitching before she continued. "Please—you have to help me. I'm being held here against my will."
Her voice was raw. Not completely broken, but frayed with exhaustion, sounding as if she could struggle no more.
"If someone's there—, please, I'm in here!"
It was obvious that she'd been screaming. Crying. Doing everything, she could free herself.
He smiled to himself. Poor naive woman, the mess she'd gotten herself into, she is so horribly unaware of the monster's lair shes walked right into— looking for sanctuary from the world.
The Collector paused in the doorway. Watching her.
Taking measure of her worth—why not after all she'd taken every opportunity she could at the mansion to make him look small in front of others and taken every chance she could to tell him how unworthy he was of her attention.
Looking down her nose at him—pretending he was irrelevant.
He didn't speak. He just let the silence stretch out tauntingly and deliberately. Hoping to break Elanah down psychologically.
He wanted to hear what she sounded like when she thought no one was listening. Fell her desperation as the grief of defeat washed over her.
"I know you're there— is that you— asshole? She grunted as she struggled to free herself.
"You wanna tell me what game you're playing here? —I thought we were partners. This isn't what I agreed to— did Raven put you up to this? "Panic washed over her as she squirmed, flapping around with the last bit of energy she could muster. "Let me out of here, you sick bastard."
The Collector pulled back a leather-bound volume on the fireplace mantel.
A soft click whispered, and a hidden cabinet slid out from the wall and jutted forward to his right.
Inside lay any tool he might need when he was home.
He stared at them, breath shallow. So many ways to end Elanah.
He almost salivated at the thought. It would be so glorious to watch her life bled away.
So many ways to begin. His fingers hovered over a blade, then jerked themselves away, curling into a fist.
Not yet— He needed to stick to his plan. As much as he'd love to watch the light drain from Elanah's eyes, he needed her.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the itch beneath his skin.
The need— roared just beneath his skin. Blurring his vision red and pulsing within him with each heartbeat.
He closed his eyes and let the sensation pass over him, and then he locked it away for another time.
He selected a syringe, filled it with trazodone—enough to drop a man twice her size. He couldn't risk her waking up before he was ready, attempting to escape. Placing it in his back pocket, he filled another for the prisoner.
Her voice cracked through the walls like a whip.
"Hey, you sick fuck—I know it's you! Let me the fuck out of here! Now!"
He smiled. Still fighting.
He stepped toward the door, voice smooth as silk.
"Elanah, I'm on my way to you—calm down. I'll explain everything in just a minute." He closed the cabinet by pulling the book back, and he made sure it closed properly.
And then paused.
He reached for the syringe in his pocket. And smiled again. Show time.
From the looks of it, Elanah hadn't fared well during his absence.
She lay twisted in the bed sheets, limbs tangled, skin slick with sweat.
The air in the room was thick, rank with the stench of her fear, filth.
Her body had betrayed her. The mattress was soaked through with urine, vomit, and something darker.
Her hair clung to her face in damp ropes.
Her lips were cracked with dehydration, eyes—when they opened—were glassy, unfocused.
She was far from the pampered princess he'd bound to the bed.
No silk to cover her body. No perfumed illusion of beauty.
Just skin, stink, and disgrace remained.
Just a normal person who'd had all their pride stripped away.
He loved seeing people broken down into their most raw versions and seeing past the version of themselves that they presented to the world.
The picture portrayed in the room was one of what truth looked like for people like her.
The ones who allowed themselves to be vulnerable to the whims of the world, captured by its monsters.
The Collector watched her from the doorway, unmoved by the sight of her. She gasped, noticing him casually leaning there. A brief look of relief crossed her face until she saw the needle in his hand.
"Didn't I tell you?" he said, voice low, almost tender. "Monsters always win, Elanah."
She jumped and then blinked, slow and unfocused.
The Collector continued as he crossed the room halfway to the bed.
"You thought becoming a monster would make you untouchable—that if you grew fangs, the world would bow down at your feet.
But the truth is, Elanah— monsters don't announce themselves.
They wait. They watch. And by the time you decided to sharpen your claws, you had already curled inside the jaws of something far darker than you could ever be. "
Her breath caught—sharp, involuntary. "Ww..why are you doing this? I thought we were going to take the Kings down together?" Elanah's chin quivered, her lips shaking with fear as she took him in.
Her eyes widened, panic blooming fast, her movements becoming feral as the Collector stepped closer.
She screamed. High, jagged, primal, as if the sound alone could free her from her bindings.
It sliced through the room, so piercing that the Collector flinched, one hand snapping to his ear as he snarled at her in pain.
The Collector looked at her, his expression unreadable, watched the fruitless battle Elanah fought.
He'd seen others fight like this before. And he knew exactly when the fight would fade, the moment the syringe delivered the powerful sedative into Elanah's veins, it would all be over.
The Collector stepped closer, syringe in hand. The metal point broke her skin easily. She watched in horror as it did. Her eyes were already beginning to close as he whispered to her.
"Don't feel too bad, Elanah, you were a prisoner of my desires long before you walked through that door."
***
With Elanah secured, it was time to move the prisoner. The mausoleum waited.
He yanked the trapdoor open and started down the stairs.
No mask today. What was the point? In forty-eight hours, he'd be gone—this place, this persona, all of it buried.
No one would recognize him on a beach in Bali, on the other side of the world.
He'd be someone else by then. His go bags were already waiting for him in his boat, at the marina in town.
Every piece of his exit plan had been thought out and planned months ago.
He just needed the final pieces of his plan to fall into place.