Page 29 of The Collector
Destiny sat quietly on the opposite side of the car, her presence a calming force as Mynx took a moment to collect herself. The woman’s expression was calm, almost reassuring, friendly even amid her uncertainty. Mynx drew a deep breath, her gaze settling on Destiny. She was stunning, impeccably dressed, exuding the effortless confidence of someone who had mastered the art of composure. There was no trace of turmoil in her appearance, no hint of the weight they both carried. If anything, she seemed untouched by the circumstances that bound them, a stark contrast to the tension that lingered within Mynx.
“You have to tell me,” Mynx said. “How do you stay so put together—so calm—while we’re sitting in the middle of a cartel-run operation? I feel like a hostage, and you’re just... here. At ease. Willing to help a stranger navigate the chaos.” She shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. “It says a lot about you that you’d even try.”
Destiny's smile widened in response to the compliment.
"I’m only doing what they expect of me. In this world, a request is never just a request—it’s a command in disguise. You’ll learn that quickly. And while I don’t know you, unlike many of the people here, I have no interest in fighting the natural flow of things. I believe in giving to the world what I hope to receive in return. At the end of the day, I want to leave this place with more than I arrived with—a future, and the means to stand on my own. If helping others along the way gets me there, then so be it."
Experience taught Mynx appearances could be carefully constructed—false warmth, polite smiles, and words wrapped in sincerity could all be tools in a calculated game of survival. She wondered if Destiny was truly offering kindness or was implementing a strategic move. She had seen it at Cover Girl's—how some clawed their way upward, using charm to gain trust with coworkers before ruthlessly cutting ties when it served them.
"I'm guessing most of the performers here don't have that outlook," she replied, staring absently out the window as the scenery passed in a blur.
"You’re definitely on to something with that line of thinking. Most weekend nights, the backstage area is like a war field; if you piss off the wrong person, you could easily become a casualty of their hate."
She didn’t trust Destiny’s motives—not yet. But she needed a friend. Someone who could help her navigate, someone who knew things. Giving Destiny’s offer a fair shake wouldn’t hurt. And maybe, just maybe, it might help.
“I keep hoping I’ll wake up, and this’ll all be a bad dream.”
“You shouldn’t feel that way. How was your life going before you got here?”
“Shitty. My mom’s been sick for a while. I put every dream on hold to take care of her. The bills stacked up. I hated my job,hated my life. Yeah, I was being a good daughter, a good sister—but I couldn’t see the way out. No silver lining. Not for me.”
“Think of it as a chance to make things better—for you and your family. Doesn’t seem so bad then, does it?”
Destiny spoke about Blood Lust like it was a promise—a way out, a better future. But Mynx had heard promises before. They always came before betrayal.
Destiny might talk about carving a life beyond these walls, but Mynx didn’t care about the dream. She wanted the cost. What would it take? What would it break?
Before Mynx arrived here, the Cordoba Kings had been little more than a name—an echo in news reports, a shadow stitched into headlines. Their names had weight. They were blood on the floor, violence in motion. Held in respect and fear. She’d stepped into their world, accepted her fate, but hadn’t yet learned what her place within it would cost her.
"Why do they keep escorting us everywhere?" Mynx asked, her tone hovering somewhere between confusion and quiet concern. "Is there actually a threat? And if there is…, who are we supposed to be afraid of?"
“You get used to the guards,” Destiny said, snapping her compact shut after checking her lipstick. Her tone was matter-of-fact, with caution threaded through it. “Being escorted everywhere becomes second nature after a while. The Kings always have threats looming over them, but it’s nothing that usually touches us directly. They protect all their assets. I'm sure you know by now their financial dealings go far beyond Blood Lust. Hector Cordoba has a vast empire built on many things."
The car eased to a stop, the soft hum of the engine fading into silence. The door swung open. Stoker stood holding it open, waiting to escort them out. He was so different than Raven, a pillar of control, his stance unwavering, his demeanor stoic andclosed off. Yet, beneath that composed exterior, was something that unsettled her.
It was his eyes. They lingered too long—sharp, assessing, like he was searching for flaws.Mynx had seen the look before on the faces of men at Cover Girls, the ones who treated women like property.
Politeness, she decided, might be her only way to diffuse the tension. It was a calculated move, but one she hoped would smooth the edges of whatever grudge he might be holding. He offered his hand to help her out of the car. Mynx took it.
"Stoker— it's nice to see you. My sister mentioned you’ve been by the house a few times and even arranged for a nurse to help with my mother’s care. I wanted to thank you for that. It means a lot to know they’re being looked after while I’m away. And I also want to apologize for my behavior in the car the other day. This whole situation has been… a lot to process, as I’m sure you can understand. I shouldn’t have been rude to you."
She held his gaze, waiting for a response, hoping the apology would ease the tension. In a world where power dynamics ruled every interaction, even the smallest gestures could tip the scales. She hoped hers would tip the situation between them her way.
His grip loosened as she straightened, the air between them shifting ever so slightly.
A knot tightened in her stomach, a sudden dryness creeping into her mouth. Instinct urged her to step back away, to put distance between herself and Stoker. But she forced herself to remain still, keeping her expression neutral.
Whatever game he was playing with his lingering silence, she refused to let him know it bothered her.
"No need for apologies," he said, his gaze steady. "We’re all creatures of self-preservation, doing what’s necessary to survive. No harm, no foul. You don't know me, and I don't know you. We're just here to do our part." Shrugging his shoulders, helooked at her with no emotion before he adjusted his stance and focused back on their surroundings.
“Thanks, Stoker,”
He was still a weirdo. But a forgiving one, at least. And for that, she was grateful.
"Ready to head in?" Destiny called from the storefront.
Mynx nodded to him and turned away, her focus narrowing to the reason they’d come. The tension between her and Stoker didn’t vanish, but it thinned—like fog lifting just enough to see the edge of a cliff. When she glanced back, he gave a nod and a smile: not warm, not cold. Just enough.
