Jomiloju's POV
Lagos never looked the same after you bury someone alive—especially when that someone deserved it.
Abeni's empire hadn't fallen yet.
But it was cracking.
And we were the ones bringing the fire.
Steve drove silently beside me, eyes sharp, hands gripping the wheel like it was the last lifeline between him and a world he swore he'd never go back to.
But this wasn't just his return.
It was ours.
He wasn't the only one with a score to settle.
I was done being stolen.
Now… I was ready to steal it all back.
Steve's POV
They called it The Circle—an abandoned bank downtown where the Five Families used to meet.
A place of blood and negotiation. Once sacred. Now desecrated.
We chose it on purpose.
No permission.
No invitations.
We were rewriting the rules now.
"You sure about this?" Korede asked, checking his weapon.
I nodded.
Jomi didn't wait for my answer.
She stepped out first, head high, in all black. Braids like a crown. The fire in her chest barely contained.
No guards.
No army.
Just us.
Because fear travels louder than bullets.
And we had become something they feared.
Jomiloju's POV
Inside The Circle, five men waited.
Old power.
Old corruption.
Old cowards.
One of them—Madaki, the so-called banker of blood—laughed when he saw me.
"This is the queen you've been whispering about, Steve?" he sneered. "She's beautiful. But soft."
I walked up to him.
Smiled.
Then slapped him.
Hard.
He stood, shocked.
Before he could retaliate, Korede aimed his gun at his knee.
Steve didn't blink.
"I'm not soft," I said, leaning close. "I'm the fire you idiots forgot to watch for."
Silence.
Then Steve stepped forward.
"The underworld is changing," he said. "And you either bend… or you burn."
Steve's POV
One by one, we laid out the truth.
Abeni was bleeding.
Koleosho's money was seized.
The child trafficking pipeline had been dismantled—by us.
And the next name on our list… was anyone who sided with either of them.
"Order or chaos," I said. "Choose."
Madaki rubbed his jaw, still furious.
"You're both traitors to the old ways."
Jomi raised an eyebrow.
"Good. Because the old ways built nothing but graves."
Then she placed a file on the table.
Bank records. Hidden ledgers. Every dirty deal they'd ever signed—copied, traced, and ready for the press.
Insurance.
One wrong move from them, and she'd make sure every politician and family head tied to their money went down with them.
Jomiloju's POV
"You didn't just threaten them," Steve whispered to me later. "You caged them."
I shrugged. "I learned from the best."
But I knew what he meant.
We hadn't asked for the underworld.
It had claimed us.
Now it was time to crown ourselves or get crushed beneath it.
Abeni's POV
I woke up in a private clinic, bullet wounds stitched, pride destroyed.
News traveled fast.
Steve and his Rose had taken The Circle.
Even the Five Families didn't challenge them.
Not because they were loved.
But because they were feared.
I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers.
I'd lost the throne.
But not the war.
There was still one card left to play.
And it had a name.
Senator Dorotoye.
Jomiloju's POV
It was the calm before the real storm.
I stood at the balcony of our new safehouse—a penthouse overlooking the city.
The skyline glittered like broken glass.
Steve joined me, arms wrapping around my waist.
"Everything's about to change," he said.
I leaned into him.
"It already has."
Then I turned to him.
"I want to do something."
He arched a brow. "That's never just one thing with you."
I smiled.
"I want to create a home. A real one. Not just for us—for girls like me. The ones the world forgot. The ones the world stole."
He didn't speak for a long moment.
Then he kissed me.
"You always see farther than I can."
I shook my head.
"I only see it because I've already survived the darkness."
Steve's POV
We signed the papers two weeks later.
A legitimate business front.
A shelter.
A school.
A fortress.
We called it "The Rose Home."
For the broken.
For the lost.
For the fierce.
And while Jomi stood at the ribbon-cutting, speaking to press, smiling with grace—I guarded from the shadows.
Because not all kings wear crowns.
Some of us wear scars.
Jomiloju's POV
The first girl who arrived at The Rose Home was thirteen.
Bruised. Silent. Eyes like mine used to be—hollow, guarded.
She didn't speak for two days.
On the third, I gave her a red notebook and told her: "Write anything you want. You don't need to be quiet here."
She nodded.
And for the first time… smiled.
That smile?
It healed something in me I didn't know was still bleeding.
Steve's POV
But peace doesn't come easy.
Not when enemies still breathe.
One night, Korede rushed in with an envelope.
No return address.
Just one name scrawled across the front:
"Jomiloju."
Inside?
A single photo.
Senator Dorotoye.
Bound. Beaten.
Alive.
And below it, in red ink:
"Let's see how much blood a rose can really spill."