The Mafia’s Stolen Rose

Jomiloju's POV

Morning came too quietly.

Too peacefully.

I woke up with Steve's arm draped across my waist, his chest warm against my back. For a second, I let myself forget. The war. The betrayal. The blood on both our names.

For a second, I was just a girl waking in her lover's arms.

But peace doesn't last in our world.

Especially not for stolen roses and broken kings.

His breath shifted behind me.

"You're awake," he murmured, voice gravelly with sleep.

"So are you," I replied.

"Couldn't sleep," he admitted.

"Why?"

"Because you're lying next to me and I don't know if I deserve it."

I turned to face him. "It's not about what you deserve, Steve. It's about what you do next."

He looked at me like I was salvation.

I kissed him softly.

And then we both heard it—a distant thump.

Like a door slamming.

Or worse.

A warning.

Steve's POV

I was up in seconds.

Gun drawn.

Every muscle in my body snapped back into war mode.

Jomi stayed behind me, barefoot on the cold tiles, eyes wide.

I moved through the hallway silently, every sense heightened.

Then I saw it.

Smoke.

Thin tendrils rising beneath the kitchen door.

And then—crackling.

Flames licking under the wood.

I cursed.

Grabbed Jomi's wrist.

"We have to go. Now."

Jomiloju's POV

The house was on fire.

Not by accident.

This was planned.

Gasoline fumes stung my nose. Fire was already crawling along the edges of the hallway.

Steve grabbed the go-bag we'd prepped—his gun, documents, cash—and shoved it into my arms.

"Back exit," he said. "Window. Take this."

He pushed a small blade into my hand.

"Use it if anyone grabs you. Don't wait for me. Just run."

"I'm not leaving without you—"

He gripped my face.

"You survive. That's an order."

And then he kissed me.

Hard.

Fast.

Like it was the last breath before drowning.

Steve's POV

I kicked the back window open.

Glass shattered outward into the night.

Smoke was thick now. Flames ate through the ceiling. Time was gone.

I helped Jomi out first, then jumped after her.

We hit the dirt hard.

Gunfire cracked in the distance.

I covered her with my body, scanning the treeline.

Two figures.

Dark clothing.

Long rifles.

They weren't Koleosho's usual men. These were mercs. Fast. Efficient. Hired to finish the job.

I pulled my Glock.

"Stay behind me," I barked.

Jomi didn't argue.

She was already gripping the blade like she meant to use it.

Jomiloju's POV

The first shot hit the dirt near my foot.

The second grazed the air beside my cheek.

Steve returned fire without hesitation—three shots, center mass.

One body dropped.

The other ducked behind the trees.

"Move!" he shouted.

We ran.

Into the darkness.

Into the trees.

The flames behind us roared higher, like hell itself had awakened.

And still—my heart wasn't afraid.

Because Steve was with me.

Because I chose this.

And I would choose it again.

Steve's POV

We made it to an abandoned shed a few kilometers away.

I slammed the door shut, barred it with a rusted beam.

Jomi collapsed to the floor, coughing, face smudged with soot.

I fell beside her.

My shoulder was bleeding—didn't even notice when it happened.

She saw it before I did.

"Oh my God"

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding, Steve."

She ripped a strip from her shirt and pressed it to the wound.

I didn't stop her.

Didn't flinch.

But I did look at her.

And I realized something terrifying:

I wasn't just protecting her anymore.

I was fighting for us.

Jomiloju's POV

He winced as I tied the makeshift bandage.

"You need stitches," I said.

"I need you alive more."

His words hit me like thunder.

Because in that moment, I knew it was real.

This wasn't lust.

Or obsession.

It was love.

Twisted. Damaged. Born in fire.

But love all the same.

Steve's POV

She pressed her forehead to mine.

"I'm not going back," she whispered. "Even if the world burns I'm staying."

The words lodged in my chest like a bullet.

I didn't deserve her.

But I would burn the whole world before I let anyone take her again.

"I'm going to end this," I said. "Koleosho. The contracts. The war."

"How?"

I met her eyes.

"By making him bleed for every scar he left on both of us."

Jomiloju's POV

We sat in the silence after.

No more flames.

No more gunshots.

Just the sound of two hearts breaking open and healing in the ruins.

I held his hand tightly.

And for the first time…

I wasn't his prisoner.

I was his queen.

Even if the bed we once kissed in had burned to ashes behind us.