Page 10 of Revenge Saints (BloodHawks Duet #2)

Then came the call.

Late at night. Roman summoned us to the headquarters.

Said we were flying to Romania. Some ex-CIA prick had stolen intel, classified files that, if leaked, could expose active agents, fellow soldiers. The kind of thing that would get people killed, a mission too risky to delegate, so it had to be us.

We were airborne in under an hour.

Same routine: tight silence, tense focus, Roman giving his orders like a goddamn ghost general. But this time… this time was different.

Roman came with us.

Said he missed the action. Missed the field. Wanted to feel the rush again.

Bullshit.

It should’ve been a red flag. But back then, we still trusted the bastard .

Once we landed, we had a three-hour drive into some remote valley in the middle of goddamn nowhere. That’s when Roman gave the command.

“No radios. No communication. Total blackout.”

We didn’t question it. It was a black op. Deep-cover shit. We figured radio silence was to avoid compromising the mission.

We had no idea we were walking into a fucking trap.

I take a deep breath.

I promised myself I’d never think about that mission again. Swore I’d buried it in that hellhole and left it there to rot. But Roman’s just a wall away, and suddenly all those ghosts are clawing back out of the dirt.

We walked into that abandoned factory like it was any other mission: kill first, questions later. And we did just that. The four of us cleared the second floor, kicked in doors, and killed whoever crossed our path. We didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t afford to.

Then this kid… small, maybe seventeen, if that… stepped out from behind a desk.

Knox raised a hand. Steady. “Guns down.”

We listened.

But Roman came in behind us, silent, calculated. No warning. Just reached over, grabbed Knox’s backup from his holster… and shot the kid in the head.

Like it was nothing.

Before we even caught our breath, another man came sprinting in, panic in his eyes, screaming, papers shaking in his grip. “I have them! I have what you asked for! ”

We didn’t understand. Didn’t have a damn clue what he meant, but Roman did.

He walked right up, snatched the documents from the man’s hands… and shot him too.

Right between the eyes.

We stood there, covered in blood, holding empty questions in our hands while Roman walked out without a care in the world.

And when we came back? When we stepped onto the base?

They were waiting for us.

Command. Suits. The kind of people that never show up unless you’re about to be erased. They threw us into a room without windows and laid it all out.

That man, he was one of ours. A senior agent trying to leak classified shit to protect people. That kid was his son. They thought we were the ones who betrayed the mission, who took money to silence a whistleblower and tie off the loose ends.

No one said Roman’s name.

No one even looked at him.

Radios were off, his call. The pilot? Disappeared the second we touched the ground. No proof he was even there.

They didn’t just kick us out. They wiped us out. Years of service, gone. Files deleted. Records burned. Like we never existed.

They didn’t lock us up because of all the successful missions we did, but we needed to disappear.

And Roman?

He kept his title, his office, his fucking smug grin .

Told them we pulled the trigger; it was Knox’s gun.

That motherfucker watched us fall and didn’t flinch.

And now he’s here. Breathing our air. Walking through our base.

After her .

Aspen.

My sweet little doll.

He wants her. Wants to twist her up, use her like he used us, but he’s not going to touch a single hair on her head. Not while I’m alive. Not while any of us are.

Because she’s not his.

She’s ours .

And I’ll die with blood on my hands and her name in my mouth before I let him take her.

The door swings open, and I sit up fast, biting down the groan that claws up my throat. No weakness. Not in front of anyone tied to Roman.

Sean walks in, calm, eyes taking me in like I’m a patient instead of a prisoner.

“Easy, son,” he says. “You’ll break the stitches.”

The softness throws me off. That’s not how Roman’s men operate.

“I’m fine,” I grunt, eyes scanning him for a weapon I can snatch. Nothing obvious. He’s smart, then. Or cautious.

He holds out a can of beans and an apple. My stomach tightens, clenches like it hasn’t seen food in days, because it hasn’t.

I frown. Why the fuck is he being nice ?

He catches the suspicion in my silence and smirks. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He chuckles and pulls a leather pouch from his satchel and lays out bandages with precision.

I nod, one stiff jerk, and take the food. It’s not hot, barely warm, but the first bite is enough to bring a weird sense of comfort.

“You were a doctor?” I ask between bites, watching him as he waits, quiet and unbothered.

“Surgeon,” he says, a small, tired smile ghosting over his lips.

“Must’ve been hell during the plague,” I mutter, not looking up. Can’t imagine stitching up bodies while the world bled out.

“It was,” he says, eyes turning glassy. “Especially when it took my wife and son.”

His words cut the silence.

I pause, spoon mid-air, finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, low, unsure why the words even come out.

He gives a slow nod, more to himself than to me. “We all lost loved ones, right?” he says, eyes on the can in my hand. “Well, since you’ve eaten, let me take a look.”

I sit up, bracing for the sting. He moves in, quiet and efficient.

“So, you’re a soldier too,” he says, gently peeling the bandage from my side. His hands are soft, practiced. I barely feel the touch, just the burn underneath.

“Something like that,” I grit out, my jaw clenching as he hits a raw nerve. “Mercenary. ”

No point hiding it. Might even buy me some space, some fear, some respect. Something.

He hums under his breath, more curiosity than judgment. “Hmm… Bryn said you were special forces.”

He doesn’t flinch at the blood. Doesn’t flinch at me . Just cleans the wound like it’s any other.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “That too. Until Roman fucked me and my team.”

Sean nods, and I glance over at him, watching his careful hands.

“How does a man like you end up with Roman?” I ask, eyeing him.

Sean chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Didn’t have a choice. It was either join his little militia… or die.”

My chest tightens. I study him, see the shadow pass over his face.

“He hit the community I was living in. He came for medicine and women.” His jaw flexes. “Ours were gone, hidden before he arrived. But me?” He glances at the wound. “I was a doctor. That made me useful.”

Of course.

I grind my teeth. Roman’s been raiding unarmed communities, tearing them apart for supplies and flesh. And I’m willing to bet that somewhere along the way, that bastard crossed paths with Ethan, got wind of the base, the people, and Aspen .

Sean pulls me back.

“He’s going to do the same to you, son.”

I meet his gaze, and my heart speeds up .

“Roman will make you choose. Bend the knee or watch your girl and your friends bleed.”

I swallow hard, the pain in my shoulder barely registering now over the fire in my chest.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, frowning. “Why’d you help me?” I nod to my shoulder. “Roman would’ve let me rot, and you could’ve too.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he lifts a hand and brushes his fingers along my cheek.

The touch is… unexpected.

“You remind me of my son,” he says, cracking.

Tears glint at the corners of his eyes, and he gestures to the ink on my chest.

“He would’ve been your age now. And he had a hawk tattoo.”

My throat tightens. I look down at my hands, bloodstained, broken, shaking with the weight of it all, and clench them into fists.

I will never join Roman. But I’ll never let Aspen, or the guys be his fucking casualties either.

I’ll do what I have to.

Sean’s tone drops to a whisper.

“You have an ally here, Dante.”

I look up at him. Nod once. I don’t trust him; I don’t fucking trust anyone now, but this is exactly what I needed.