Page 30 of Rose
“Ma’am, I need you to calm down so I can understand what’s going on.”
She stumbled through her words like a scared witness. “I was just going to the bathroom… and—”
“Ma’am, where are you?”
That’s when she dropped the hammer.
“Franklin Ross and his wife are dead!” Sarai screamed into the phone, voice cracking like she was on the verge of breaking down.
Then she ended the call and tossed the phone into the dark water, watching it disappear beneath the waves.
Sincere let out a quiet laugh as he steered the boat toward the distant shore where their getaway cars waited.
“Acting classes paid off, huh?” he joked, smirking as Sarai flipped him off without missing a beat.
Their mother had forced Sarai into everything growing up—acting, ballet, etiquette classes—and the boys never let her forget it.
“Fuck you. Hurry up and get us to shore. I’m sleepy,” she muttered, leaning back in her seat.
Savior chuckled, shaking his head at the twins’ banter.
Even on a night soaked in blood and death, they always found room for this. For laughter. For each other.
Because family was the only thing in his world he could count on.
And tonight, that bond had carried him through hell once again.
Chapter 4
"Good morning, Miami. We begin with breaking news that has sent shockwaves through the city. Franklin Ross, CEO of Ross Technologies Inc., and his wife, Cynthia Ross, a well-respected pediatric nurse at Evergreen Hospital, have been exposed as the masterminds behind a major human trafficking ring operating across Miami..."
The news anchor's voice poured from the flat-screen TV, calm and composed as she reported the storm. "Authorities confirm the couple was responsible for the recent string of kidnappings involving women and children, leaving the city gripped in fear for weeks. Shocking evidence was uncovered, linking them directly to the underground network transporting victims throughout the region. Police were called to the Ross residence late last night during a high-profile charity gala. An attendee reported hearing gunshots from the upstairs study, but no one was seen leaving the room. Upon arrival, law enforcement found both Franklin and Cynthia Ross dead in their home. The deaths have been ruled a double suicide. As investigators comb through the evidence, the city is left reeling at the fall of two of Miami’s most prominent figures—and the horrifying crimes they committed behind closed doors. Stay tuned for more updates as this story develops.”
It echoed through the home like a song he already knew by heart. Savior Carter sat still, expression unreadable, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sipped his black coffee. Not joy. Not pride. Just a cold, calculating satisfaction that seeped into his bones. Like clockwork, his phone lit up—forty million dollars wired to his account from an encrypted offshore account. A payday, yes. But this wasn’t about money. Never was. This was his bloodline. His birthright. A legacy carved into shadows and sharpened by vengeance.
He turned off the TV without another glance, stepped onto his balcony as the humid Miami sun draped itself across his dark skin. Lighting a blunt, he took a long pull and let the smoke melt into the sky. This was routine. Every morning—4AM run, black coffee, then a blunt to quiet the storm in his chest. The view was beautiful. Ocean below. Silence above. He didn’t need applause. Didn’t need headlines. The city could stay stunned and shaken.
He already knew—justice had been served.
From where he stood, Savior Carter could see the full sprawl of his estate—the rolling hills, tall swaying trees, and the silence that only real money could buy. He inhaled deep, slow, letting it fill his chest like pride. This was what power smelled like. Freedom. Control. Legacy. A life most men killed to taste. But for Savior, it wasn’t a gift—it was earned, and the cost was written in blood.
He was thirty-two and had lived more lives than most men twice his age. Carried secrets that would break lesser men into pieces. As the eldest son of the infamousSaint, he hadn’t been raised—he’d been forged. While Sarai and Sincere grew up with affection and softness, he grew up with pressure. With weight. With the expectation to one day lead the very empire that shaped their family into ghosts. Yes, his parents loved him—but that love came laced with demands, with fire, with duty.
From childhood, he was molded for war. By seven, he could strip and fire any weapon set in front of him. While other kids were memorizing multiplication tables, Savior was being taught how to kill. If he wasn’t hitting live targets in remote fields, he was behind the wheel, mastering the curves of a street course like a language all its own. His love for cars came from his father too—racing at thirteen, building engines by hand, gripping the wheel like it was a weapon. But the family business always came first. Street racing could thrill him, but it didn’t build legacies. Blood did.
At thirteen, he was already a ghost. And while kids his age were prepping for prom and college essays, he was enlisting—learning to fight wars not just in the streets, but in deserts, jungles, and the underbellies of black ops missions with no names. The Army didn’t tame him. It refined him. He got his business degree while learning to dismantle bodies with bare hands. He didn’t work for anyone—governments, cartels, power brokers in custom suits and bloodstained deals—they all worked for him.
The Carter empire wasn’t built for the spotlight. It was federal. Untouchable. Feared. And when Havoc stepped down, Savior didn’t just inherit the throne—he stepped into it already sharpened, already deadly, with his siblings falling in line behind him like shadows.
Fun was irrelevant. Love didn’t exist. Women came and went, but they never touched him. Not really. Everything he had—this house, this land, this dominance—was earned through pain, through loyalty, through fire. Sincere and Sarai got to live. They got to love. Even though they were just as deep in the family business as he was, where Savior had no choice, they had one. They got to breathe a little easier, feel a little freer. Both attended Florida A&M University. Sincere dove into chemistry and technology, sharpening the genius he was born with, while Sarai chased her dream of becoming a chef. But no matter where they went, no matter how high they climbed, the Carter blood always called them back—and it was made of killers.
Sincere thrived in the game, balancing brilliance and brutality with surgical precision. At thirty, he owned one of the most respected dispensaries in the country, selling the strongest, cleanest, most medicinally potent weed on the market—grown himself in sprawling greenhouses across the city. He partnered with hospitals to develop cutting-edge natural medicine that healed people from diseases as vicious as cancer. Sincere loved saving lives. But with that same gentle, healing touch, he could destroy. Whether it was with a lab formula, a remote detonation, or a bullet placed with perfect timing—he took lives too, and never missed.
Then there was Sarai. The Carter princess. Sweet. Vibrant. Innocent to the untrained eye. But she was bold. Lethal. Dangerous. Her passion for cooking began at six, standing beside their mother and aunt, learning how to season love into every dish. She opened her restaurant,Gold, to rave reviews, with a waitlist booked out months in advance. People came for the food, stayed for the vibe, never realizing the woman who served five-star meals with a smile could slit a throat and never flinch.The men in her family tried to protect her, thought the life was too savage for someone so radiant. But Sarai proved, over and over, that the same hands that softened dough could pull a trigger or gut a body with a butcher knife—then go back to plating dessert like nothing happened.
Together, they carried out the legacy their father built with blood and strategy. And under Savior’s rule, the Carters weren’t just a family—they were a force. Feared in the streets. Respected in the shadows. Their names carried weight, even when their faces didn’t. Ghosts—untouchable. Untraceable. Unforgiving.
Taking a life—no matter how evil the target was or how much they deserved it—was always a weight on the conscience. Savior had been doing it since he was young. It was in his blood now, etched into the marrow of who he was, but that didn’t make the job easier. Death never got lighter. He always knew karma might catch up one day. But right now, standing on his estate surrounded by sprawling acres, the warmth of Miami’s summer sun draping his skin, the soft ripple of the fountain lake in the distance—it was peace. And peace was the one thing Savior craved more than anything in this life.
