Page 109 of Rose
Ahzii was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling in soft waves as the aftershocks of her orgasm trembled through her limbs. Savior stood and scooped her into his arms effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct, her hands clutching his shoulders, but she refused to meet his gaze.
“Look at me, Allure,” he said gently.
She hesitated—just a moment—before lifting her eyes to his. The burn of tears threatened behind them, but she blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall. Vulnerability wasn’t something she showed easily, not even to herself.
“You’re beautiful,” Savior said, his voice quiet but steady, like he needed her to believe it. “If I gotta remind you of that every day until it sinks in, I will.”
Her throat tightened. She looked deeper into his eyes, searching for anything that might hint he was just saying what she wanted to hear, but all she saw was truth. Pure, unfiltered truth.
“Scars and all?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Scars and all, Allure,” he said without hesitation, like the words had always been waiting in his chest.
She leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder as he held her in the middle of her living room—no rush, no expectation. Just his arms and his quiet presence.
In that stillness, the silence said more than words ever could.
He didn’t try to fix her. He didn’t ask for anything. He just held her—through the storm spinning in her head, without knowing she was anchoring him through his too. They both were wrapped in the same kind of ache. Different pain, same weight. And in this moment, it wasn’t about sex or power or even comfort.
It was about being seen.
Fully. Scars and all.
And loving anyway.
Chapter 12
Ahzii could barely breathe. The blinding white lights overhead blurred through tears and smoke-stung eyes, the sterile hospital air clashing violently with the scent of ash and blood clinging to her skin. Alarms beeped somewhere in the distance, growing louder, sharper—until they felt like they were inside her skull.
“Her pressure’s dropping—she’s crashing!” A nurse’s voice pierced the fog of her mind.
Pain radiated through her body, sharp and unforgiving, but it was the emptiness beside her that hurt most. William. Her trembling hand reached toward nothing, toward the man who held her through nightmares and promises and morning laughter. Gone. The word pressed against her chest like a boulder. He didn’t make it out of the fire. She had. But not whole.
“She’s bleeding internally—get the OR prepped now!”
They were talking about her. About the baby. The daughter she hadn’t even named yet. The one she whispered to in the quiet of their bedroom, the one William kissed goodnight through her belly. The one they were supposed to raise together.
Willow Miani.
Her name is Willow, Ahzii thought, clinging to it like a lifeline. Her little girl deserved to live. Deserved to feel sunlight on her face. Deserved more than a mother half-broken and a father buried beneath rubble and flame.
The gurney jolted, and the ceiling lights became streaks. The beeping of machines. The cold sting of the anesthesia. Her heartbeat thudding in her ears louder than the monitors. Then—nothing.
When she opened her eyes again, the world was still. Silent. No crying. No tiny screams. No pink bundle wrapped in warmth. Just silence.
A nurse hovered near, eyes wet, unable to meet hers. A doctor stepped forward, mouth moving slowly, carefully, like every word was a blade.
“We did everything we could… but there was too much distress. We couldn't revive her. I’m so sorry.”
Ahzii blinked. Once. Twice. Her mouth stayed open, but no sound came out. The world dropped out from under her, and she felt herself shatter inward—quietly, devastatingly.
They placed Willow in her arms anyway. Still. Beautiful. Perfect. Ahzii stared at her daughter’s tiny face, her lips pressed into a frozen pout, lashes resting like feathers on soft, warm skin.
She traced her fingers down her cheek, aching for a breath, a twitch, a miracle. But her baby girl didn’t move.
“I’m your mama,” she whispered, voice breaking. “And I’m so, so sorry.” She held her for hours.
Pressed her lips to Willow’s forehead. Memorized every inch of the daughter she wouldn’t get to raise. And when they finally took her away, Ahzii wasn’t sure if they took Willow… or the last living piece of herself.
