Page 34 of Rose
“Wassgood, Ky. Everything good on yo side?” Savior asked, still working on his plate, eyes steady but voice relaxed.
“Yeah, working like always,” she replied with a tired smile.
“Appreciate what you did for Sin.”
“No need. The wire transfer was more than enough thanks,” she said, with a knowing look. “I begged to send some of it back, but he’s stubborn—like his best friend over here.”
Savior chuckled, but his gaze slid past her—right back outside. That’s when the shift hit. The woman on the bike.
Helmet off now, head down, texting. But everything about her demanded attention. The rich glow of her brown skin, the way her short pixie cut framed her face like it had been sculpted for the gods, and those tattoos—intricate, bold, stretching across a body that looked like it was built to ride and destroy.
She wasn’t loud. She didn’t need to be.
Savior didn’t even realize he was staring until A’Mazi spoke.
“Where y’all headed?”
Kyre answered softly, “Lunch at Gold, then shopping later.”
Savior didn’t know why the details of their day mattered to him—but they did now. Her plans suddenly had weight.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick wad of hundreds. Kyre immediately pushed his hand away.
“I don’t need your money, Maz.”
He didn’t budge. Stuffed it into her palm anyway. She rolled her eyes in protest, but she didn’t give it back.
Savior’s eyes pulled outside.
Now the woman was no longer texting—she was talking to one of the barbershop customers who’d just left with a fresh cut. The man leaned in a little too close for Savior’s comfort. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know her story, but something in him didn’t like it. At all.
And he wasn’t alone.
A’Mazi’s attention was locked on the same scene.
“She can’t speak?” A’Mazi asked, nodding toward the woman on the bike.
Kyre glanced over her shoulder. “She told me to tell you hi,” she said. “She’s just… not having a good day. I had to drag her out the house. She act like she can’t go nowhere without that damn bike—thanks to you.”
Kyre’s voice lowered, just enough to be heard if you were close enough. Savior was. And he didn’t miss the slight shift in her tone, the concern folded beneath her calm.
Savior caught it—the flicker of worry in A’Mazi’s eyes. Quick. Subtle. But it was real. That woman mattered. To both of them.
“She’s okay, Maz,” Kyre added gently, reading his face like a pro.
Savior tuned them out after that, attention fixed on the woman again. Her face was mugged up, clear irritation on display as she talked to the man by her bike. Whatever he was saying, she clearly didn’t give a damn. But it wasn’t just that.
Savior didn’t know her name, didn’t know her voice, or anything about her, but the tight pull in his chest told him one thing.
He hated seeing her talk to another man. And he didn’t even knowwhyyet.
He could tell she was getting uncomfortable. Her body language was subtle but loud to someone like him. The way she shifted her weight, the tension in her jaw, the annoyance in her eyes. A’Mazi and Kyre were too deep in conversation to notice, but Savior? He noticed everything.
Macho had finished Savior’s lineup minutes ago, and the timing couldn’t have been better. Savior rose from the chair with a calm so cold it felt lethal, tossing his empty plate in the trash without a word.
“Aye, Sav—” Macho called out, halfway through removing the barber cape, but Savior didn’t stop. He pushed the door open and walked straight toward the storm.
“I said I’m good, now can you get the fuck on,” the woman said, her voice smooth but sharp. Calm, but pissed. Savior didn’t like that. Didn’t like the look in her eyes. Didn’t like the energy this man brought to her space.
