Page 23 of Rose

“That’s why you fucked up over her,” he said.

Savior looked over, curiosity now glinting behind his hardened exterior.

“Why?”

Because Sincere had more context. More access. Not only was Ahzii his best friend’s sister—but Taylor worked under her. And Savior knew his brother paid attention, even when he didn’t ask questions.

“I don’t know the full story, ‘cause I stay in my lane,” Sincere began.

“But Maz told me a little. Said they had to grow up hard. Before they got adopted, it was straight survival mode. They didn’t get to be kids, bro.

That’s probably why she’s so locked up—emotionally, physically.

Why she move like nobody’s safe, not even herself. ”

Savior stayed silent, listening.

“She’s cool, real down-to-earth, but there’s shit she don’t talk about. And Maz don’t give details. But the burn on his face? The ones she hides under ink?”

Sincere looked up.

“Life burned them, literally. They walked through fire to get here. I don’t know what happened… but it left a mark.”

Savior clenched his jaw, the blunt hanging loosely between his fingers.

He remembered the tattoo on her neck—a bleeding rose with sharp thorns curling into her skin. He’d studied it the night he stood in front of her.

He saw the burn beneath it.

She tried to cover it. Ink over pain. Art over trauma.

Now, knowing it wasn’t just symbolic, but real —that someone hurt her that deeply—made his blood boil.

He wanted to know who.

He needed to know why.

And more than anything, he needed to know how to fix it.

“This is just a hypothesis…” Sincere started, his tone too calm for what he was about to say. “Ahzii might’ve been burned by life, and it hardened her. For good.”

Savior didn’t flinch, but the muscles in his jaw ticked.

“You relate to that burn,” Sincere continued. “’Cause of how Pops raised you. You see a woman going through the same shit you do… and you wanna save her before she becomes like you.”

He paused. Let the silence land.

“You did it with me and Sarai. Now you’re doing it with Ahzii. It’s you trying to save everybody again.”

Savior’s mug was instant.

Deep. Sharp. Offended.

Because even though what Sincere said hit , it wasn’t right . Not about this. Not about her.

He didn’t want to save Ahzii .

He wanted to give her everything she thought she’d never deserve. Everything she’d stopped believing she could have.

It sounded insane, especially when he barely knew her. But it was the only thing that made sense in the chaos of his mind.

“Sometimes you so fucking smart, you dumb,” Savior said, standing abruptly.

His voice wasn’t loud—but it was tight. Controlled.

“This ain’t no damn savior complex, Sin.”

He’d come here looking for clarity. For peace. But instead, he was leaving more frustrated than when he arrived.

Yeah, he’d learned more about her story. Caught glimpses of her pain. But none of it helped explain why she consumed his thoughts like this. Why she lived in his blood like a low, constant burn.

“I’m just saying what it looks like,” Sincere said, lifting his hands in surrender. “But if your heart’s telling you to pursue her—don’t let my smart-dumb ass stop you.”

Savior cut his eyes at him but didn’t say anything.

Instead, he exhaled smoke and reached for his keys.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “but you need to stop giving Aunt Marley them fucking edibles. I called her earlier and told her Brasi almost got hit by a car, and she laughed for ten minutes.”

Sincere broke laughing. “Man, stay outta me and Auntie’s business! She needed that.”

Savior cracked a reluctant smirk but shook his head.

“Look,” Sincere said, voice serious now, “I ain’t mean to piss you off or make shit worse. You the leader of this family for a reason, Sav. If you think she’s the one…” he stepped closer, “don’t let nobody stop you from finding out.”

Savior looked at him, the weight of those words settling into his chest.

“All love, nigga,” he said, pulling him in for a hug.

“All love,” Sincere echoed, gripping him tight.

They pulled back, and just as Savior turned to leave, Sincere grinned.

“Oh—and heads up,” he added, laughing, “Sarai might steal her before you even get a chance. You know you can’t date a woman once she becomes Sarai’s best friend.”

He chuckled, knowing exactly how Sarai operated when she believed she’d found a real friend.

Sarai was used to doing life solo. Being a Carter meant keeping people at a distance. The few friends she’d made in college only knew her as the girl who could cook her ass off and happened to be the twin sister to the finest, smartest boy on campus.

People always gravitated to her—but none of those friendships lasted.

So when she did connect with someone? She clung to them like family.

“Fuck Gold,” Savior snapped, voice sharp with possession. “Ahzii was my wife first—before her damn best friend.”

Sincere laughed, long and hard. “In love ass…” he said, shaking his head. Then paused. “Damn. I never thought I’d say that. Not to you.”

Savior rolled his eyes, jaw ticking.

“Too soon for that shit,” he muttered.

He didn’t know what this feeling was. But it was swallowing him whole. It lived in his bones now.

Sincere lifted a brow. “Yet, you killed for her… gave Gold a million dollars just so she could eat free for life… and stalked the woman like you auditioning for Lifetime.”

He grabbed his keys, shaking his head. “Bet you already looking at rings and baby names. In love ass nigga—like I said.”

“Man, fuck you.” Savior mugged him. “You leaving?”

“Yeah. Need to go see my wife.” Sincere smirked, tossing his lab coat over the chair. “She’s at the shop. Perfect day for you to meet your sister-in-law. And since I know you missing Ahzii’s face, this time you don’t gotta stalk her ass to see it.”

He laughed at the middle finger Savior threw his way, still grinning.

Savior wanted to go. God, he wanted to see her. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Not until he got his head straight.

He needed to get back to the shop. Needed the hum of machines, the rhythm of routine. Because the one woman he couldn’t stop thinking about—the one he swore he’d never need—was already living in his damn mind. Rent free.

???

Savior tried to focus on the ride he was fixing, but not even the smell of oil, the pounding bass of trap music, or the screech of drills could drown out the thought of her.

Sweat coated his chest as he worked shirtless beneath the chassis, the night creeping in and the shop now empty except for him.

Just as he wiped his face, a voice cut through the garage—soft, guarded, and unmistakable.

“Hey, are you closed?”

He rolled out from under the car, and for a moment he thought he was hallucinating. But no. There she was. Ahzii. Real, solid, beautiful—and clearly annoyed.

She rolled her eyes the moment they locked gazes, like she’d stepped straight into a cosmic joke.

Her curly pixie was fresh, her slightly oversized graphic tee draped just right, hung over those Gallery Dept sweats that hugged her curves like a second skin, but was still slightly baggy.

Marni slides on her feet, dog leash in hand.

A hulking, sleek Rottweiler sat by her side, gold collar tag catching the light—ACE.

“Hell no,” she muttered under her breath, turning to walk off. Savior moved before he could think, reaching out. She yanked away instantly.

“Don’t touch me. How the fuck do I keep running into your crazy ass?” she snapped, eyes skyward like she was asking God for answers.

Savior chuckled. “It’s written in the stars, Allure. God clearly know what He doin’.”

“Clearly not,” she bit back, but he could see the way her eyes slipped down his frame, just for a second.

Dark skin glistening with sweat, muscles cut sharp beneath the lights, tattoos winding down his arms and legs like living stories. Black Essentials shorts hung low on his waist, and his legs—inked, strong, and dusted in grime—stood rooted. Yeah, she was looking. But she wasn’t staying.

“You like what you see,” he said, voice low.

“No. I came to the wrong place.” She folded her arms, but her voice lacked conviction.

“Nah, I think you right where you supposed to be,” he said, eyes never leaving her. “What can I do for you… besides what I wanna do to you?”

The nerve in his tone was calm—too calm—and that’s what shook her more than the words.

“There is nothing you can do for me,” she said coldly. “I came to the wrong place. Like I said.”

She turned, but he followed.

He saw it then. The matte black AMG parked outside. Sleek. Hers. And the front passenger tire? Flat. Savior smirked slightly. God was playing chess, and she didn’t even know it yet.

“I can fix that for you,” Savior said, nodding toward the flat tire as Ahzii helped Ace into the back seat of her car.

“Like I said, I’m good. I’m sure there’s another mechanic shop around here somewhere,” she replied, her tone sharp with dismissal.

“Not one that’s open this late.” His voice was calm, but firm.

It was nearly eleven. She had just left her shop, mind already on her bed, when the tire gave out. This place—the only shop with its lights still on—was supposed to be a quick stop. Had she known it belonged to him, she would’ve risked riding home on three damn wheels.

“I’ll just take my chances,” she said, opening her door with defiance in every move.

“Allure, let me fix your tire. I’m not letting you ride home like that—you’ll blow your shit,” Savior warned, stepping in front of her.

She rolled her eyes. “If so, I got a nigga who can fix it.”

His jaw flexed so tight, he tasted blood.

“You better be talking about me, Allure,” he said low, cold, deadly.

She shot him a glare. “I don’t know you, and you are not my nigga. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A lotta shit,” he said with a careless grin that only pissed her off more.

“Yeah. I can tell.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “So you gonna let your man fix the tire so your beautiful ass can get home? My son-son in the back lookin’ like he about to pass out.”