Page 1 of Salvation

Prologue

Yulia

The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes as I stood at the edge of the school grounds. My heart pounded, each beat a reminder of the choice before me. Memories flashed through my mind -- cruel hands, mocking laughter, endless fear. I closed my eyes, willing the images away.

This was it. The end. My fingers trembled as I gripped the knife tighter. Just one cut and it would all be over. No more pain. No more shame. I took a shaky breath. “Prosti menya, sestra,” I whispered. Forgive me, sister.

The blade glinted in the fading sunlight. So sharp. So final. I pressed it to my wrist.

A roar split the air.

My eyes snapped open. In the distance, a motorcycle engine growled, growing louder. Closer. I hesitated, the knife hovering above my skin. Who would come here? Why now? The engine’s rumble filled my ears, drowning out the frantic beating of my heart. Despite myself, I turned toward the sound.

A flicker of… something. Not quite hope. But curiosity. A momentary distraction from the abyss. I lowered the knife, just slightly. My mind raced. Should I wait? See who it was? Or finish what I’d started?

The motorcycle drew nearer. Any moment now, it would crest the hill. I bit my lip, indecision paralyzing me. The wind continued to howl around me, urging me forward. But that sound… it called to me. Promising… what?

I didn’t know.

For just a moment, my despair lifted. And in that moment, I chose to wait.

The motorcycle crested the hill, its rider a dark silhouette against the blazing orange sky. My breath caught in my throat. He was massive, all broad shoulders and muscled limbs, his leather cut emblazoned with a patch I couldn’t quite make out.

He dismounted in one fluid motion, his boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. My fingers tightened around the knife as he strode toward me, his pace urgent but measured. “Easy now, darlin’,” he called out, his voice a low rumble that carried on the wind. “Why don’t you put that knife down?”

I shook my head, taking a step back. “Stay away,” I warned. “I don’t know you.”

He slowed his approach, hands raised placatingly. “Name’s Hawk. I’m with the Reckless Kings. I was sent here to help. A few of my brothers are waiting nearby to make sure we don’t run into trouble.”

My mind reeled. The Reckless Kings? How did they know? Why would they care? “No one can help,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “It’s too late.”

Hawk took another careful step forward. “It’s never too late, sweetheart. Trust me on that.”

I laughed, a bitter sound that surprised even me. “Trust? I don’t even know what that means anymore.”

His gaze met mine. “Then let me show you. Just… put the knife down. Please.”

My hand trembled. Part of me wanted to believe him, to grasp at this lifeline he was offering. But the fear, the pain of the past years, it all threatened to drown me. “I can’t,” I choked out. “You don’t understand what he did to me.”

Hawk’s expression softened. “Maybe not exactly. But I’ve seen enough pain in this world to recognize it. You’re not alone, Yulia. Not anymore.”

My name on his lips startled me. How did he know? Who sent him?

As if sensing my thoughts, he added, “Your sister’s worried sick. She asked us to find you.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Oksana?”

Hawk nodded. “She loves you. Let us help. Let me take you somewhere safe.”

The knife slipped in my grasp, my resolve wavering… The knife clattered to the ground, and my legs gave out. I crumpled, expecting to hit the cold earth. Instead, strong arms caught me, steadying me against a broad chest.

“I’ve got you,” Hawk murmured, his voice a low rumble. “You’re safe now.”

I trembled, my body wracked with silent sobs. Years of pent-up fear and pain poured out of me as Hawk held me, his grip firm but gentle. “Can you walk?” he asked after a moment.

I nodded weakly, not trusting my voice. Hawk kept an arm around me as he guided me toward his motorcycle. The machine loomed before us, all gleaming chrome and sleek lines. “Ever ridden before?” Hawk asked, swinging his leg over the seat.

I shook my head, eyeing the bike warily. “Nyet… no.”

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