The Mafia’s Stolen Rose

Steve's POV

We drove all night.

No music.

No talking.

Just the road unraveling in front of us like a tightrope between life and death.

Jomiloju hadn't said a word since reading that file. Her eyes were locked on the window, jaw clenched, fists balled in her lap like she was trying not to break from the inside out.

I wanted to say something—anything.

But how do you comfort someone whose entire identity has just been ripped apart?

I glanced at her again.

She looked more like a weapon than a girl now.

Sharp edges.

Steady breath.

She wasn't just surviving anymore.

She was changing.

And I wasn't sure if that terrified me… or made me fall harder.

Jomiloju's POV

I didn't cry.

I didn't scream.

I just sat there—a volcano wearing the skin of a girl who used to believe in family.

My father had traded me. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally.

Literally.

There it was, black ink on gray paper: a classified agreement signed ten years ago—detailing that in the event of a political collapse, I would become "a secured asset" to be held by Koleosho's camp.

Like a pawn.

Like a currency.

Like property.

I wanted to feel shocked. Instead, I felt… numb.

Because deep down, I think I always knew I was just another move on someone's chessboard.

But Steve?

He could've used that truth against me. Could've lied. Could've broken me like the others.

He didn't.

And that's what made me look at him differently now.

Not as a captor.

But as the first person in my life who gave me a choice.

Steve's POV

By the time we pulled up to the new hideout—a tucked-away compound deep in the wetlands—it was almost dawn. The horizon glowed pale orange, the sky torn between night and morning.

She stepped out of the vehicle first.

Didn't wait for me.

Didn't need to.

She moved like a storm wearing silk.

Inside, the house was bigger, cleaner, fortified. Weapons already stashed. Cameras in place. I'd set it up months ago in case things went south.

They just had.

She walked into the main room, dropped her bag, and stood there.

Still not speaking.

Still not looking at me.

So I finally said it.

"Jomi."

She turned slowly.

And the sound of her name in my voice did something to both of us.

Jomiloju's POV

That was the first time he'd ever said my name.

Not "girl."

Not "princess."

Not "kid."

Just… Jomi.

It shouldn't have mattered.

But it did.

Because the way he said it?

It sounded like a prayer. Like regret wrapped in longing. Like he was finally seeing me as something real.

I walked toward him, slow and deliberate, until we were toe to toe.

"You said you were supposed to kill me," I said.

He didn't flinch. "Yes."

"And why didn't you?"

He hesitated.

Then his voice cracked.

"Because I heard you say please. Not like someone begging for her life… but like someone begging not to be forgotten."

Steve's POV

She stared at me.

Like she could see right through every wall I'd built since I was twelve.

"I hated you," she whispered. "I hated how you looked at me like I was breakable. Like you were already writing my ending before I even got to speak."

I swallowed. "And now?"

She stepped closer.

So close I could feel her breath.

"I still hate you," she said softly. "But I also see you now."

I tried to look away.

She didn't let me.

She touched my chest—right over the scar I thought nobody ever saw.

"You're not what they made you," she whispered. "And I'm not what they sold."

And then—

She did something that shattered me.

She leaned in and whispered—so quietly, so fiercely:

"Steve."

Jomiloju's POV

The name felt strange on my tongue.

Not because I'd never used it.

But because I finally meant it.

This wasn't about seduction.

Or revenge.

This was about truth.

He wasn't just a gunman. Or a soldier. Or a criminal with haunted eyes.

He was a boy who once buried his sister with bare hands and never forgave the world for it.

He was a man who was never given a reason to be soft until now.

Until me.

Steve's POV

I couldn't take it anymore.

I kissed her.

Slow.

Gentle.

Like an apology wrapped in fire.

She didn't pull away.

She leaned in.

Fingertips gripping my shirt, breath catching, heart racing.

The world blurred.

The war vanished.

For one moment, we weren't captor and captive.

We were just two people who had nothing left to lose.

Jomiloju's POV

His kiss wasn't like I imagined.

It wasn't angry.

Or desperate.

It was careful.

Like he didn't believe he deserved it. Like he thought I'd vanish if he kissed me too hard.

I didn't let him.

I kissed him back.

Deeper.

Harder.

Until he growled into my mouth and backed me into the wall.

His hand cradled the side of my face like I was precious.

And in that moment?

I believed him.

Steve's POV

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless.

Shaking.

Silent.

She looked at me like she knew what I was thinking.

Like she already understood.

"I'm still leaving someday," she said. "I can't live like this forever."

"I know."

"But right now," she added, stepping forward, pressing her forehead against mine, "I choose to stay."

It was the first time someone ever chose me.

Not out of fear.

Not out of debt.

But willingly.

And I would die to protect that choice.