Page 25 of Rose
Savior shook his head, a quiet smirk breaking his otherwise unreadable expression. He loved what he did, but what made him love it more was doing it with them—his siblings, his blood.
This life was dangerous, brutal, ruthless. And while he carried the constant fear of losing them, they proved time and time again they were made for this.
Carter blood ran deep.
And they’d kill side by side, always.
“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with. I hate bougie-ass parties,” Savior muttered under his breath as Sarai gave a soft laugh, already slipping into character.
Right on cue, Cynthia Ross approached, all teeth and rehearsed charm. Sarai plastered on a fake smile, perfected after weeks of playing this role, while Savior gave a polite nod out of respect—nothing more.
“Oh my gosh, girl! You made it, and you look flawless in this dress!” Cynthia gushed, her voice dripping with that overly sweet, white-girl excitement that grated on Sarai’s nerves.
This whole setup had been in motion for weeks, every move calculated by Savior. Sarai and Cynthia weren’t friends—never had been, never would be. Franklin and Cynthia had stumbled into Gold on a date night, and Sarai played the welcoming chef, showing them a night they wouldn’t forget. Delicious food, smooth wine, and harmless small talk was all it took to get Cynthia wrapped around her finger. She leftthinking they shared some new sisterhood bond, but to Sarai, she was nothing but a target.
Cynthia lived the life of every bored billionaire wife—wake up to yoga, brunch with women just as shallow as her, then spend her husband’s money until her arms were tired.
And yet, Sarai sat on the same kind of money—if not more—earned from their family's bloody business. But unlike Cynthia, Sarai made a name for herself on her own terms. Culinary school. Sweat equity. Gold was hers. Built from scratch at thirty years old, it was her empire.
“Hey,” Sarai greeted, tone light but just shy of sincere.
Savior stood quiet beside her, watching his sister work through the fake smile. She wasn’t made for this kind of pretend. Sarai was blunt, raw, and spoke whatever came to her mind, but tonight she played the role for something bigger than pride. This wasn’t just for her. This was for the mission. For mankind.
“Wehaveto get a drink and catch up. It’s been forever,” Cynthia beamed, her voice too bright, turning to Savior with a sugary smile. “You mind if I steal her for a bit, handsome?”
The way she said it—flirty, playful—didn’t match the diamond ring on her finger.
Sarai caught the tone and subtly mugged her, hiding it with a smile the second Cynthia turned back.
“By all means,” Savior said, detaching his arm from Sarai’s without missing a beat.
Cynthia grabbed Sarai’s hand like they were lifelong friends.
“I’ll bring her back in one piece. Promise.”
Savior didn’t answer, didn’t blink. His eyes stayed locked on Sarai, reading her body language, making sure she was good. The world knew him as a killer, but in his blood, before anything else, he was a big brother.
Sarai gave him a subtle nod, a silent promise—I got this.
Cynthia pulled her deeper into the party, and Savior faded into the crowd, slipping between circles of men who knew him from a different world. A mechanic. An artist who wrapped their million-dollar cars in colors and designs no other shop could replicate. Cars were his passion, his escape.
But killing?
That was in his blood.
After minutes of mingling, the sharp crackle of a microphone cut through the music, drawing the room’s attention to the stage. A tall white man in a grey designer suit stepped forward, his long blond hair slicked down his back like a bad perm, his posture commanding as if the mansion itself bowed to him.
Franklin Ross.
To the public, he was the polished CEO of Ross Technologies Inc., a billion-dollar global security empire. But Savior knew better.
Behind that charming smile and tailored suit was a monster.
Franklin ran one of the largest underground trafficking rings in the world, using his security company as the perfect cover to move women and children acrossinternational borders. Despite countless investigations, his wealth and political connections kept his name clean and his hands untouchable.
But Savior had seen past the façade.
He’d spent months building a deep profile, pulling secrets from the shadows no one else could touch. Federal contacts, military intelligence, and Sincere’s unmatched hacking skills traced every breadcrumb straight back to Franklin.
