Page 9 of Rose

Khaos stepped into the packed luxury mansion wearing a sharp black Dior suit and designer dress shoes, his every movement a statement of power and control.

The woman on his arm moved with the same quiet dominance, her presence commanding just as much attention as his.

The billionaire hosting tonight’s gala prided himself on charity events and high-society gatherings, but Khaos wasn’t here for champagne or small talk. This was business.

Above them, the moon cast a silver glow against his dark skin, illuminating the fresh waves in his hair, flawless and sharp under the lights.

The tailored suit hid the tattoos inked across his neck, chest, and arms, but nothing could mask the raw danger he carried.

Even in a room full of Miami’s elite, Khaos owned the air they breathed.

And so did she.

To the outside world, Savior Carter was a talented mechanic, the owner of a luxury shop downtown Miami where cars worth more than most people’s houses rolled in daily. But right here, right now, he wasn’t Savior.

He was Khaos.

A ghost in the streets, a phantom in the shadows of the government.

A lethal assassin operating on his own terms. He took contracts from secret government officials, gang leaders, and power players who needed their enemies erased without a trace.

But Khaos wasn’t just a killer for hire—he was a silent judge, a weapon of vengeance who hunted rapists, predators, scammers, and corrupt men who slipped through the cracks of justice.

For the right price, he made sure their sins were buried with them.

But it wasn’t the clean kill that earned him his name.

It was the chaos left behind when the dust settled.

The woman on his arm wasn’t his lover, but his lethal, calculated little sister—Sarai “Gold” Carter.

On the surface, she owned one of the hottest restaurants in Miami, fittingly called Gold.

A place known for good food, unforgettable vibes, and an atmosphere dripping in wealth and exclusivity.

But by her brother’s side, she wasn’t a businesswoman.

She was a weapon. A killer. A protector.

“Can y’all hear me?”

Their brother’s voice cracked into their earpieces as they moved through the crowded mansion, surrounded by men and women draped in silk, diamonds, and secrets .

Sincere “Sin” Carter. Their eyes, their ears, their genius.

Sin could hack into any system without leaving a fingerprint, build weapons and explosives that caused devastation in minutes, and design chemical compounds deadlier than any bullet.

Double majored in software and chemical engineering, he was the quiet storm of the family.

He was Sarai’s twin. Khaos’ little brother.

The Carter legacy wasn’t built on wealth alone—it was built on blood. Their father, Saint “Havoc” Carter, raised assassins, crafting them from his own hands and scars. And now, with Havoc retired, finally loving on their mother Selene in peace, the next generation carried on the empire.

Tonight, the room was a playground for corruption. Politicians, crooked and righteous alike, businessmen who ruled both boardrooms and backstreets, millionaires, billionaires—every kind of power player filled the mansion of Franklin Ross, their target.

The place reeked of money and crime, but Khaos and Gold moved through the party like they owned it, their steps smooth, calculated, unshaken.

“Yeah,” Sarai answered into the mic, fingers adjusting her ponytail as if checking her hair.

“Move precise,” Sin continued, his voice calm but sharp. “All security cameras disabled. Guards? Handled. He’ll give his little speech, then head upstairs to his study to get high. Crackhead ass can’t help himself.”

There was a pause before Sin spoke again, his tone colder.

“That’s when y’all move. Gold—his wife’s in on this too. She’s all yours.”

A subtle nod passed between them.

“See y’all at the dock. Sin out.”

Gold chuckled under her breath. “That nigga so dramatic,” she whispered.

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 left thinking 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.

“We have to 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 across international borders. Despite countless investigations, his wealth and political connections kept his name clean and his hands untouchable.

But Savior had seen past the facade.

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.

This was the devil in a suit.

And tonight, he stood on stage at a charity gala... preaching about change.

Savior sipped his champagne, disgusted but composed, watching as Franklin delivered a speech that was smooth, powerful, carefully crafted to paint him as a man giving back to the community.

The cruelest part?

This gala was for single mothers—the same women he funneled into his trafficking pipeline, the same families torn apart by his greed.

The applause roared through the mansion as Franklin ended his speech with a polished smile and a bow of false humility. He stepped off the stage, shaking hands, playing the crowd like a well-rehearsed performance.

Cynthia stood at the bar, laughing over champagne with Sarai, perfectly positioned as Franklin approached them through the crowd.

Savior stayed in the shadows, his gaze sharp, watching every movement.

His main focus wasn’t Franklin. It was Sarai. Always Sarai.

No matter how deep in this game they were, she was still his little sister.