Page 29 of Rose

Kyre burst into laughter. “Savior got you folding like a lawn chair.”

“Folded, tucked, and zipped up,” Ahzii admitted. “Y’all keep laughing. I’m not trying to be the reason somebody gets buried in a closed casket.”

“Relax. He’s on assignment tonight,” Sarai said casually, checking her phone. “He’s not even in town. He’s handling some business, which means he ain’t thinking about you tonight.”

“That’s supposed to comfort me?” Ahzii looked at her, deadpan. “You do realize ‘he’s not thinking about you’ in Savior language probably means ‘I planted a camera in your rearview mirror.’”

Sarai tried to hold her laughter. “Okay, fair. But still—what he don ’ t know won’t kill him.”

“Or in this case, kill Kiyan ,” Kyre added with a smirk.

Ahzii flopped back on the bed. “I hate it here.”

Sarai saw the nerves dancing behind Ahzii’s eyes. “Bitch, go on the fucking date. It’s your birthday—you deserve to go out, look fine as hell, and have a million-dollar nigga on your arm spoiling you. Might even get some birthday dick out of it,” she hyped, sipping her mimosa like it was gospel.

Kyre nodded hard in agreement. “Period. And you already dressed like a damn walking fantasy.”

Ahzii exhaled deeply, still unsure, but put back on her heels and grabbed her purse. Please let tonight go smooth. If whatever had Savior occupied tonight could keep him far occupied, she might make it out of this alive. Literally.

The girls left to get ready for the club, all excited and dressed like they were about to shut the city down.

Bianca stayed behind, parked on the couch with Ace at her feet, still too high to drive home.

She waved her hand lazily. “Tell Kiyan I said hey. And if he got uncles, tell ’em I’m single and ready to mingle… in moderation.”

Ahzii laughed as she walked toward the door, butterflies doing backflips in her stomach. She just wanted a peaceful night—one without emotions, without guilt, and definitely without her psycho stalker soulmate making a surprise appearance. She checked her phone.

Kiyan: Outside, Ma. Take your time, though. I’ll wait.

She inhaled, whispered a silent prayer, and stepped into the hallway.

Just one night. One damn night to be normal.

?? ?

Ahzii and Kiyan sat at a candle-lit table near the center of the upscale rooftop restaurant.

The place was elegant—dim lighting, city skyline views, soft music drifting under the clinking of wine glasses—but her mind wasn’t here.

She should’ve just gone out with her brother and the girls.

The one thing keeping her from fully checking out—the fear of Savior finding out—was gone now that she knew he was busy on a job. But the dinner? It was dragging.

Kiyan’s phone rang every five minutes—business, his team, or his baby mama.

Every. Single. Time. The food was fancy, sure, but too bougie for her taste.

The steak was mid, the mashed potatoes barely warm, and the asparagus was there for decoration more than anything else.

She sipped her wine, letting the buzz mix with the lingering high from Sin’s edibles earlier, but even that was wearing off.

She was over it. The only good thing about the night was her outfit. She looked damn good.

Right as Kiyan ended another call and opened his mouth to speak, her phone rang. An unknown number lit up her screen.

"Sorry, I need to take this," she said, already answering. Anything to break the monotony.

“Hi, this is Rose.”

“You think I’m playin’ with you, Allure.”

That voice. That deep, gravel-coated voice that slithered right under her skin like smoke. Her breath hitched as her eyes subtly scanned the rooftop, body tense. Kiyan, oblivious, picked up another call of his own.

“Why are you calling me?” she asked quietly, trying to keep her cool.

“No need to look for me. This red dot on this nigga’s heart should tell you I’m close enough.”

Her blood ran cold. She stood from her chair so fast it made Kiyan look up at her, confused. But she smiled. Smooth. Kept her tone light as she slowly straddled him in his chair—blocking his chest with her body, keeping him covered.

“Enjoy the view,” she whispered into the phone, sultry and slow.

Kiyan smirked, thinking the show was for him. “Hell yeah… Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, hanging up his call as he kissed her.

She kissed him back. Twice. Soft, but full of fire—because she knew he was watching. She wanted Savior to see every damn thing.

“Niggas don’t run me,” she said, her lips brushing Kiyan’s.

“Playin’ with fire, Allure.” Savior’s voice was low, dark, and deadly through the phone. It made her thighs clench.

“I’ve survived fire before, sweetheart.”

Kiyan, still caught up in the moment, blinked. “Wait—what’d you just say?”

“Baby, it’s time to show you why they call me Khaos,” he said, sounding sexy.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring him, then hung up the phone. “Bye, nigga.”

Kiyan looked up at her, confused. “Everything good?”

Ahzii nodded, forcing a tight smile, now standing in front of him like a shield. “I want to get out of here. Now.”

She held out her hand, already planning their exit—not because she wanted to continue the night, but because she could feel those dangerous eyes still watching.

“Let’s go,” Kiyan said, standing as he grabbed her hand and tossed a wad of cash on the table. They made their way down the steps to where his car sat parked in the middle of the street like it owned the block. Valet nodded as Kiyan hit the keypad for his Ferrari.

BOOM !

The explosion shook the ground. A fiery blast erupted from the Ferrari, sending people screaming and stumbling away. The impact knocked them both back. Kiyan yelled, “What the fuck!” as he scrambled up to stare at what was left of his car.

Ahzii didn’t move.

Her ears rang. Her body locked. The flames roared in front of her, but it was the fire in her mind that burned hotter. The smoke. The screams. The blood. The house. William. Willow. The flames that swallowed her life.

Her breathing spiraled, too fast, too shallow. Her chest rose and fell like she was drowning in air. Her hands trembled. Her feet wouldn’t move. She was standing on that street, but her soul was trapped in that burning house all over again.

The loud ring of her phone sliced through the havoc.

She answered with a shaky voice, eyes locked on the fire. “Hello…”

"A car is gonna pull up on the corner. You’ll get in.”

His voice.

That low, lethal rasp. Smooth as silk, sharp as a blade.

“I don’t mind reminding you why they call me Khaos,” he continued, cold and slow. “And I know you don’t want that shit on your conscience, Allure.”

Right on cue, a black Bugatti rolled up like death itself. The door opened, and out stepped Savior—calm, composed, dressed like he hadn’t just blown up a six-figure car in the middle of the street.

Ahzii stood trembling. Her body shook, her mind fraying at the seams, but her feet started moving on their own. She didn’t speak. Didn’t meet his eyes. She walked right past his outstretched hand and slid into the passenger seat.

Savior got in, slammed the door shut, and took off like a shadow with a vengeance.

Ahzii didn’t look back.

Kiyan was yelling into his phone, pacing in front of what used to be his car. Too busy trying to grasp how close he came to dying to even notice she was gone.

But Ahzii wasn’t here.

Not really.

She was back in that house, reliving every moment—her lungs filling with smoke, her husband bleeding out on the floor, her own body crumpled and lifeless as flames licked her skin.

The fire. The screams. The silence.

Tears welled up as her heart banged against her ribs. She didn’t know where Savior was taking her. She didn’t care.

Because right now, she was trapped in a past that refused to let her go.