Page 110 of Rose
Willow was gone. And so was William. Ahzii stared at the ceiling, unmoving, as if even blinking might make the nightmare real. But it already was. Her body had survived a bullet. A fire. Loss. But her soul—her soul hadn’t made it out of that room. All she could do was scream without sound, bleeding in places no one could reach.
“Allure… what’s wrong? You’re shaking,” Savior murmured, tightening his arms around her trembling frame as more tears streamed down her cheeks. She wasn’t sobbing or screaming, but the silent quake of her body, the way her tears kept falling without pause, it gutted him.
“Allure, look at me.” His voice was low, coaxing, as he gazed down at her. Her head rested against his chest, her face pressed into the warmth of his skin, soaking it with grief he didn’t yet understand.
Last night had been everything he needed. After the chaos of the family meeting, after the storm stirred by his father and Lazarus, Ahzii’s presence had been a balm he didn’t know he was desperate for. They’d ended up on the couch watching a movie. She fell asleep in his arms before it ended, and he told himself he’d put her in bed and go.
But then she asked him to stay. And it felt like she’d asked him for forever.
He stayed. Of course he did.
It didn’t take long for sleep to claim them both. But Savior hadn’t really slept. Not with the way her body kept twitching, the way she whimpered in her sleep, cried out soft, broken sobs in the dark. The way she kept whispering the same name over and over.
Willow.
Now the sun was up, and she was staring blankly at the wall, tucked under the comforter, her face buried against his damp chest. Her body still shivered like she was standing naked in snow. And no matter how tightly he held her, it didn’t stop.
“Ahzii…” Her name left him again, gentler this time. She finally looked at him.
Her eyes were swollen and red, her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but didn’t. Another tear slipped down, and he reached up, wiping it away with his thumb.
“Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Bad dream?” he asked, his hand moving in slow, comforting circles along her back, hoping—praying—she’d give him something.
“More like… a bad memory.” She brushed at her face quickly, trying to wipe away the evidence.
Savior pulled her upright, but she resisted, pushing against his chest.
“No, Sav. I don’t want to talk about it, sit in it, or feel it. Just forget it.” She tried to climb out of his arms.
“Allure, come the fuck here,” he said, calm but firm.
“I’m literally right here,” she muttered, still laying on her side, not meeting his eyes.
“Ahzii.”
There was warning in his tone now.
She sighed, annoyed, but moved, climbing into his lap, straddling him, her oversized shirt falling around her thighs. No panties. His hands instinctively gripped her bare ass as her weight settled against him.
He didn’t move. Didn’t smirk. Just looked up into her face.
“Who is Willow?” he asked, voice so soft it nearly disappeared between them.
Her entire body tensed.
“What?” she said, playing dumb, but her eyes already gave her away.
“You kept calling for Willow in your sleep,” he said gently, lifting a hand to touch the gold chain around her neck. “And her name is on that necklace.”
Her hand flew to the pendant, clutching it like it might disappear. Her jaw tightened.
“My boundary, Savior. Telling you is breaking my boundary. And asking… is too.”
He held her face in his hands, thumbs brushing along her jaw, his eyes never leaving hers.
“You right,” he said after a long pause, voice steady even though every part of him burned with questions, with the urge to fix something he didn’t understand.
