Page 137 of Rose
He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. Just bitterness worn like armor. “I’m used to it.”
The way he said it gutted her.
“That doesn’t make it okay, Sav,” she snapped, her tone sharper than intended.
To her, he wasn’t just some feared assassin. He was a man who loved through action, who protected everyone before himself. He was wounded, and still carried those wounds like they were part of his duty.
“That’s my life, Allure,” he said, voice low. “I was made to protect the family, to carry the legacy, and to lead. Not to be a son. Not to love. Not to have freedom like the twins.”
Ahzii didn’t argue. Instead, she shifted her focus to another scar—this one a healed bullet wound low on his side. She paused the needle and pointed.
“What happened here?”
“Sin was playing with a gun. It went off and hit me right there,” Savior said, tapping the spot. His tone dropped, darker. “I got beat for that too. They said I should’ve stopped him from getting to it. Said he could’ve killed himself.”
Ahzii’s eyes flicked up to him, rage simmering behind her lashes.
“So they cared more about Sinpossiblygetting shot... than the son who actuallywas.”
Savior didn’t respond. Just stared at the ceiling, letting her words sit in the silence between them. She passed the blunt back, her eyes still burning with fury he never asked her to carry, but was grateful she did.
Even through the anger, even through her pain for him, he felt something unfamiliar.Loved.Seen.For once, he wasn’t just a weapon or a warning. He was a man with scars,and someone who finally noticed them.
Without a word, Ahzii leaned down and pressed her lips to the bullet wound.
The kiss was soft. Slow. And then he felt it—a tear—fall from her cheek onto his skin.
It wasn’t just comfort. It was grief. For him. For the child he never got to be.
And in that moment, Savior didn’t need words. Her kiss said it all.
She stared at the wound, the jagged circle of healed flesh nestled in the curve of his side. It wasn’t just a scar, it was a story. A memory carved into skin. And it made her stomach twist, not because of the pain it represented, but because she had one too.
She never spoke about it—barely acknowledged it herself—but seeing one on someone else, especially carved into flesh as strong as Savior’s, made her pause. It did something to her. Gave her an unexpected sense of connection. Of being understood without explanation.
“I have one too,” she said quietly, barely above a whisper. “Bullet wound.”
Savior’s eyes shifted to her with a softness that surprised her.
“I know,” he said gently. “I’ve seen it. Kisses it every time I do. Just been waiting for you to feel ready to tell me the story behind it.”
Her breath caught.
He’d seen it?Of course he had. They’d been intimate, shared skin and silence in the dark. But what struck her wasn’t that he noticed, it was that he’d kissed it every time, so deliberately, and she hadn’t even realized.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she pointed to her waist, then eased her sweats down just enough to show him. The scar was fading, but it was still there—a silent reminder.
“It’s how I lost my baby,” she choked out, the words like glass in her throat.
She wiped her tears quickly, trying to shut the door she cracked open. “But enough about me,” she said with a forced exhale, already retreating from the vulnerability.
And he let her.
“Are any of these scars from an actual mission?” Ahzii’s voice trembled as she looked up at him, her fingers gently tracing the faded wound.
Savior didn’t answer.
But that silence told her everything.
