Page 26 of The Collector
"As well as I could, knowing my sister is alone, caring for our dying mother. "Her intent to wound him with the comment was clear.
He felt himself flinch but kept his tone steady. "I hope you know—separating you from your family wasn't my intent. If it had been up to me, I wouldn't have done it. Your father's choices are unfortunate. I'd hoped he'd make good on the million he borrowed before things escalated.
Her expression hardened. "A million dollars? I thought you said he owed three."
"He does," he clarified. "That's the amount owed now— after he failed to honor the original terms of the loan my father extended. He's had months to try to repay him on his own."
"I see. And what do I need to do to pay off that loan?"
Raven reached for the stack of papers on his desk, sliding the NDA closer to her. "Sign this first," he instructed, his tone regaining its edge of authority. "Then we'll discuss the details."
She leaned onto the desk, took the pen without hesitation, and signed her name in looping strokes that filled the page. On the surface, she was composed, almost defiant. But beneath that thin veneer of control, something flickered. Fear. Not loud, not obvious, but there in the way she sat back a little too straight, held her breath a beat too long. She was holding herself together, piece by piece. Raven could sense it.
He knew she wasn't immune to fear, no matter how well she carried herself.
It was clear to him—if he had any hope of making headway with her, he'd need to ease that fear. She didn’t stumble into Blood Lust—she stepped into it. She didn’t land in prison. She walked into a promise.
She chose the fire, not the cage.
And if she let it shape her, it wouldn’t break her.
It would build her into something more. Leave her with a better life. Whether she let him be part of it or not.
It offered security, influence, and a kind of power most people never got close to. It was a doorway—one that led beyond theconstraints of polite society, into a world where the underworld's secrets weren't shackles, but stepping stones.
Raven hoped she wouldn't resist it, clinging to her defiance. But he also hoped she wouldn't let it change who she was. Change was inevitable in this place.
Reaching for the NDA, his movements were fluid and assured. He barely spared the document a glance as he flipped to the signature line. With practiced ease, he scrawled his name in bold, deliberate strokes, sealing the agreement.
He could feel her eyes on him, not on the papers spread before her. She wasn't reading the fine print or weighing the terms—she was studying him, tracing the movement of his hand with quiet scrutiny.
Her gaze drifted to the tattoo on his left hand—a raven crowned in black ink. It stretched across his skin like a brand, the bird caught mid-motion, wings half-spread, as if guarding something sacred. She didn't ask about it, but he saw the way her eyes lingered. Not with curiosity. With calculation. As if trying to decipher what the mark meant to him, and what it might mean for her.
"I suppose the best way to start is with how your father plans to repay the debt."
"It'd be nice to know where I stand before I start paying off his mistakes." Her face softened a bit as she listened.
"Fair. I won't get too deep into the logistics of Thomas's position—it's safer for you that way."
"I can appreciate that."
"Thomas has agreed to become an associate within the organization. He'll receive a weekly salary, plus chances to earn more when he takes on additional risk. Most of those chances won't be his to choose. Still, I want you to feel secure knowing he'll be making a substantial dent in the debt himself. As I promised you, he would."
She closed her eyes, pressing her lips together—like a thought hovered just behind them, ready to break free. But instead, she only nodded.
"I assume that Shelby mentioned that you would be paid a set amount weekly by the club for performing?" he asked.
"She didn't go into much detail, but she did mention some ways I could repay the loan.
He nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Good. That means we can get straight to it."
He reached for the folder resting beside the NDA, flipping it open to reveal the financial breakdown. "The club offers a standard base rate of twenty thousand a week for performances," he explained, his tone measured. "Beyond that, you set the terms for any private services— which can range anywhere from private dances, escort services, or sexual favors if you so choose."
"I'm going to stop you right there," she said, voice clipped. "If you think I'm going to sleep with anyone to pay off my father's fucked-up debt, you can shove that assumption right up your ass."
"It's not my job to assume what you're willing to do to pay off the debt, Mynx. What I'm trying to say—and clearly doing a shitty job of it—is that the sky's the limit here. Whatever you choose to offer, the price is yours to set. You hold the reins. You can shape your future on your terms, and no one here will judge you for it."
He paused, letting the weight of that land before continuing.
