Page 101 of Rose
Savior said nothing as he passed the photo around the table.
Saint’s scowl deepened the second he looked at it. Sin's eyes widened. Olivia stiffened, recognizing the man. No one spoke, but every mind at the table was reeling.
“And how exactly do you know who we are?” Savior pressed, voice sharpening.
Cain looked at Saint.
“I play poker with Mr. Saint every Saturday. I told him my story. Told him how I wanted revenge. He said he had a family that could help. A family thatgets things done.He vouched for you. And I trust him.”
Savior looked at his father. Saint gave a firm nod, but didn’t speak.
“I’ll be the judge of your trustworthiness,” Savior muttered.
“And I won’t disappoint you,” Cain replied. “I won’t tell a soul. This is about my family, not fame.”
Savior leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “How the fuck can you afford us?”
Cain smiled, but there was no joy in it—just grief sharpened into resolve.
“My family owns one of the largest industrial oil empires in the South. Generational money. I’ve liquidated assets, pulled from trust funds, even sold my mother’s estate.”
He met Savior’s eyes directly.
“I want him dead. I want to know that the man who took everything from me is burning in hell.”
Cain took a breath. “How doestwo hundred millionsound?”
Savior rubbed his hands together slowly, processing.
“Five,” he said flatly.
Cain didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”
He stood with effort, gripping his cane, his body clearly still in agony. But his voice carried new weight. “Thank you. You’re giving peace to the dead. To my wife. My daughter. And to the families of the thousand lives he stole.”
He started toward the door, wobbling slightly.
Once the guards walked Cain out and the door sealed shut, Saint finally spoke—voice low but laced with venom.
“Sav, when I gave you this business, I expected you to handle shit properly.”
Savior’s eyes cut to his father. “All I’ve been doing for the last four yearsishandling shit.Properly.”
His tone was calm, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
He knew nothing he did would ever be enough in Saint’s eyes. Not the expansion. Not the new contracts. Not even turning the Carter name into a global powerhouse. His father would take his victories and act like they were inevitable. But let one mistake happen...
“One of your assignments is still alive,” Saint snapped. “Roaming the fucking earth. Breathing. Laughing. Aftereverythinghe did.”
Savior didn’t flinch. “I remember the job. Lazarus. Raz and Wild took care of it. Burned him in the house.”
He said the names with weight. Raz and Wild weren’t just his soldiers—they were his brothers in arms. Men he bled with in war. Losing Raz that night still carved holes in his chest.
Saint scoffed. “So you sent soldiers to do a jobyouwere hired for.”
Savior’s jaw tightened.
“I was in France. On another assignment. One that brought in millions, by the way.” He leaned forward slightly, voice sharper. “It was a clean job. Easy. So I sent my best two to handle it. And theydid.”
