Page 121 of Rose
She was letting him peel her open. Bit by bit.
And the light he always sensed under her darkness?
It was finally starting to shine. Slowly.
Chapter 13
“Ready to go to the waterpark!” Marley beamed, clapping her hands as the twins squealed in excitement, bouncing in place.
Savior’s face lit up.
His days never started with joy. They began before sunrise, at 4 a.m., running beside his father in the dark, training until his lungs burned. While other kids were at summer camps, playgrounds, or splashing through waterparks, Savior spent his break learning how to hunt, shoot, fight—training for a life soaked in blood and legacy.
So hearing that Aunt Marley was taking them swimming? It sparked something in him.
“Twins, finish your food and go put on your swimwear,” Selene said calmly. “Liv, you too.”
Savior paused, waiting—hoping—she’d turn to him and say the same.
But she didn’t.
She didn’t even look at him.
Macho leaned over the counter, hyped. “Man, I bet you won’t get on that big-ass slide that just drops you. I heard the last nigga threw up on that shit.”
Savior laughed, already imagining the rush, before Marley popped Macho in the back of the head.
“Language, nigga,” she snapped, eyes cutting at him.
“Ow! My bad, Ma,” Macho mumbled, rubbing his head as Savior chuckled.
“Put five on it that I go down that slide twice,” Savior said, grinning now.
But his smile faded as soon as Saint’s voice cut through the room.
“Go ahead and hand him that five… because you not going.”
Savior snapped his head toward his father so fast his neck almost cracked. “What? Why?”
“Who the fuck you bucking up at?” Saint growled, setting his mug down and squaring up with his son.
It was like watching a man stare down his reflection. Same eyes. Same anger. Same fire.
“Calm your angry ass down, Saint,” Marley cut in, stepping between them. “He was blindsided. And Savvy asked a valid question. Why the fuck can’t he go? His siblings, best friend, and cousin can, but he can’t?”
Saint didn’t answer her.
He looked at Marley like a little sister—he’d never disrespect her—but he hated when she questioned his parenting. This was his house. His rules. And he didn’t answer to anyone.
“He’s got business to handle today,” Saint said, dismissively.
Savior’s stomach sank.
He knew what that meant.
More work. More training. More blood. More of becoming the thing he was never asked if he wanted to be.
“What business does an eight-year-old need to handle?” Marley pressed, arms crossed, jaw tight.
