Page 37 of Rose

Savior sat in the Carter headquarters conference room, a blunt pressed to his lips as smoke drifted from his mouth in a slow, deliberate curl.

Olivia lounged beside him, scrolling her phone while they waited for his father and Sincere to arrive.

This wasn’t just any warehouse. It was the Carter family’s fortress—far out in the middle of nowhere, buried beneath layers of security and armed men trained to kill without hesitation.

Every secret, every weapon, every operation ran through this place.

And this room? It was where business got handled.

Where deals were made. Where power was measured in blood, silence, and the weight of the Carter name.

Savior’s mind, though, was back at home—on Ahzii.

On her curves pressed against his chest. Her scent in his sheets.

He wanted her curled up in his arms, not miles away in traffic or ink-stained in her shop.

But when his father called early that morning, summoning him, Olivia, and Sin to the headquarter, he knew better than to ignore it.

His father didn’t call to say he missed him or to check in.

He only called when something big was moving.

“So…” Olivia broke the silence, her voice soft but prying. “You really like her? Ahzii?”

Savior took another hit, exhaled, then let the corner of his mouth curl. “I think it’s deeper than like, Liv.”

Her brows lifted. “Love? Already? You just met her. You don’t even know her story, and you talking about something deeper than like?”

He chuckled, flicking ash into the tray. “I wouldn’t say that—not yet. But it’s not just some crush either. Shit feel... heavy. Real.”

Olivia studied him for a beat before leaning back. “I don’t know what it is about her, but she looks familiar. Can’t place it though. And that look in her eyes—she’s been through some shit. You sure this ain’t just you slipping into Savior mode again?”

His eyes cut to her. “Here y’all go again. You and Sin with this ‘savior complex’ bullshit. Just because I kill corrupt motherfuckers for a living doesn’t mean I walk around trying to save everybody.”

Olivia tilted her head, unconvinced. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying the way you’re moving with her? It reminds me of how you moved with me when we were six.”

His face hardened. “Don’t even compare that. I never looked at you the way I look at Allure. Don’t even try that.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, unfazed. “Nigga, I ain’t talking about no romantic shit. I’m talking about how you move when someone’s drowning in silence. When they don’t ask for help, but you see the storm anyway.”

Savior looked away, jaw tight.

“You remember I used to cuss you out every time you came near me. Pushed you away, told you to leave me the fuck alone. But you kept trying. You kept talking to me. You slept beside me in that cold, abandoned building because I was too scared to go back to my foster home. You had a house, parents, but you stayed with me.”

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

“You remember what I told you he did to me?” Her voice dropped. “My foster father?”

He nodded once.

“You killed him. At seven , Sav. You killed that monster, and looked my foster mother dead in the eye and said she was next if she breathed a word. And then you told your parents everything. Told them I needed somewhere safe. Because of you, I didn’t just survive—I lived .

The Carters raised me. Loved me. You did that.

You didn’t just protect me, you saved me. ”

Savior leaned back in his chair, blunt burning between his fingers. His jaw ticked.

“And now here you are again,” Olivia continued. “I see it in how you look at Ahzii. You think she’s hiding that same kind of storm. And you don’t even realize it, but you're already moving like you're gonna pull her out of it.”

Silence stretched between them.

Savior didn’t want to save her. He wanted to love her.

And if loving her gave her the strength to save herself, then so be it.

But Ahzii wasn’t a project. She wasn’t a challenge to conquer or another name on the list of people he’d dragged out of hell.

From the moment he looked into her eyes outside that barbershop, something in him cracked open.

He didn’t know her full story. Didn’t know what made her so cold, so guarded, so effortlessly lethal with her silence.

But even if she never healed—if she stayed bruised and buried beneath her past—he wanted to be the man she leaned on when the world got too loud.

Would he protect her? No question.

Would he provide? Absolutely.

Did he want to love her? God, yes.

Was it her darkness that pulled him in? Without a doubt.

But save her?

No. That part needed to come from her. She had to want it. Fight for it. Walk through her own fire.

Because just like he was misunderstood by his family—seen as indestructible when in truth he bled just like the rest— she was misunderstood too. People saw her as broken. Cold. Detached. But Savior saw the opposite. She wasn’t weak. She was strong as hell. Maybe even stronger than him.

He took one last pull from his blunt before speaking.

“I don’t regret shit I did for you, Liv.

I’d kill that sorry-ass nigga a thousand times over if it meant getting you out of that house.

But you gotta understand, what I got going on with Ahzii?

It’s different. I know something fucked her up—probably something deep—but it ain’t that that got me gone for her.

I don’t even know what it is,” he admitted, eyes fixed on the slow dance of smoke between them.

“To you and everyone else, it might look like I’m trying to be her savior.

But to me? I’m just tryna be someone she never thought she deserved again. ”

“Again?” Olivia asked, tilting her head, eyes narrowing.

He nodded slowly, voice lower. “When I look into her eyes, I see the real her. You said you saw darkness? I see light. Faint, yeah—but it’s still there.

Just buried. I don’t know who or what put that fire out, but I wanna be the one to bring it back.

To show her she deserves to shine again.

If that make me look like I’m saving her, then fuck it—I’ll wear that.

But this ain’t about me trying to fix nobody.

It’s about me seeing what’s still there, even when she can’t. ”

Olivia stared at him, lips parting slowly into a soft smile. “That’s not saving her, Sav. That’s called love .”

Savior scoffed, a half-smirk twitching. “Man, it’s too early to be throwing that word around.”

“Not for you,” she countered. “You just don’t recognize it ‘cause you’ve never felt it like this.

You love with your actions. With your presence.

With your loyalty. But you don’t know how to say it.

Come to think of it…” Olivia leaned in slightly.

“You ever even said the word love out loud? Like actually told someone, ‘I love you’?”

Savior shifted in his seat, jaw tightening.

That word had always felt foreign to him.

He knew his siblings and Olivia loved him—they said it often, and he showed it in his own way.

Through protection. Through silence. Through war.

But he couldn’t recall the last time, if ever, he said it back.

His father never said it. His mother never showed it.

Love had always been something he earned , not something he was given .

Before he could respond, the glass doors to the conference room swung open. Two large security guards entered first, followed by Havoc and Sincere. Savior had never been so relieved to see his father walk into a room.

Not because he missed him. But because this conversation was starting to strip him bare.

And he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Savior and Sin were near mirror images of their father.

Saint Carter, in his mid-fifties, wore his age like armor—tall, broad, deep brown skin, and a salt-and-pepper beard that matched the thick curls on his head.

With a body still built like a warrior and the presence of one, he could easily pass for their older brother.

Olivia stood to hug him, wrapping her arms around him like a daughter would, and he returned the gesture with a kiss to her forehead.

Savior rose as well, exchanging a nod with his father—no embrace, no warmth. Just acknowledgment. Respect. That was as close as it got with Saint.

Sincere walked over, dapping up his brother. “Wassup, Sav.”

They both sat as Saint took his seat at the head of the table, commanding the room as always. Savior was thankful he smoked earlier—something told him he’d need the calm.

“Where Gold?” Savior asked, noticing their sister’s absence.

“She’s not needed for this job,” Saint replied simply.

That answer made sense. As lethal as Sarai could be, they only called her in when necessary. She was bloodthirsty by nature, but her focus was her restaurant now. The family tries to keep her out of the deeper trenches.

The conference doors opened suddenly .

In one motion, Savior, Sin, and Olivia all drew their weapons, eyes hard and locked in.

“Calm down. He’s with me,” Saint said, standing up slowly. “He’s the reason I called this meeting.”

Reluctantly, Olivia and Sin holstered their guns. Savior didn’t. He kept his Glock steady at his side, eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust anyone just because Saint said so. The man walking in might’ve had his father’s word, but he hadn’t earned his yet.

The stranger walked with a limp, leaning heavily on a black cane.

He was younger than the cane implied, but his body told a different story.

Burn scars covered the entire left side of his face, his hands, even his bald scalp.

The rest of his body was hidden beneath a crisp black suit, but Savior was willing to bet the damage went deeper.

“I apologize for interrupting your day,” the man said, his voice raspy, barely above a whisper. “But I need your help.”