Page 36 of Salvation

“I’d like that,” she said simply.

Three words, but they bridged the gulf between us more effectively than any grand declaration could have. I nodded, suddenly unable to speak past the tightness in my throat.

We separated without another word, Yulia heading to the bathroom while I made my way to the kitchen to get us both water. The domesticity of the task felt surreal after the recent violence, but I clung to it, a lifeline back to normalcy.

I stood in the kitchen, two glasses of water sweating on the counter beside me, thoughts circling like hungry wolves. The invitation to share my bed had slipped out, born of a desperation I hadn’t fully acknowledged until the words were already hanging between us. Not sex. Just closeness. Just the certainty of knowing she was there, breathing, alive. I pressed my palms flat against the cool granite, anchoring myself to something solid while everything else felt like quicksand beneath my feet. Eleven years we’d lived as husband and wife on paper, raising Clover together, maintaining careful boundaries that suddenly seemed fragile and meaningless.

A muffled cry shattered the silence, distant but unmistakable. My body reacted before my mind processed the sound, already moving toward the hallway, heart slamming against my ribs. Clover.

Yulia emerged from the bedroom at the same moment, her hair loose and damp around her shoulders, eyes wide with the same alarm that surged through me. Our gazes locked for a fraction of a second, no words needed. Together we moved toward Clover’s room, instinct propelling us forward with matching urgency.

Another cry, louder this time, the sound of my daughter trapped in terror. I hit the door first, shouldering it open without breaking stride. The bedside lamp cast a weak glow over the room, illuminating Clover’s thrashing form. She’d kicked the blankets into a twisted mess, her body arching against invisible restraints, face contorted in a silent scream that occasionally broke through as desperate whimpers.

“No, please,” she muttered, head tossing against the pillow. “Don’t touch her. Don’t --”

I reached her in three strides, lowering myself carefully onto the edge of the mattress. Her skin was clammy with cold sweat, her T-shirt clinging to her thin frame. Even in sleep, her fingers clutched at her wrists where the zip ties had left angry marks, an unconscious echo of her captivity.

“Clover.” I kept my voice low, gentle, my hand hovering over her shoulder before settling with the lightest pressure. “Baby, you’re safe. You’re home.”

She continued to struggle, caught in the grip of a nightmare more real than my presence beside her.

“Clover,” I tried again, a little firmer this time. “Wake up, sweetheart. It’s Dad. You’re safe.”

My chest ached watching her fight demons I couldn’t see, couldn’t protect her from. I’d always been her shield, her protector, from the moment I’d nearly lost her when she was just a little girl. Now I couldn’t even guard her dreams.

I glanced back toward the doorway where Yulia hovered, uncertainty written across her features. She stood with one hand pressed against the doorframe, as if needing its support, her gaze fixed on Clover with naked concern. But she didn’t approach, didn’t intrude on what she perhaps saw as my territory -- comforting my daughter.

Clover’s eyes flew open suddenly, wild and unfocused, pupils dilated with fear. Her breath came in rapid, shallow gasps as she struggled to orient herself.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, keeping my hand steady on her shoulder. “You’re home. You’re safe.”

Recognition flickered across her face, then crumpled into relief so profound it bordered on pain. “Dad?” Her voice broke on the single syllable, splintering like glass.

“I’m here,” I assured her, brushing damp hair from her forehead. “Just a nightmare. It’s over now.”

Clover’s gaze shifted past me to where Yulia stood. “Yulia?” she called, her voice small and frightened, like the child she’d been years ago rather than the young woman she was becoming.

Yulia stepped forward hesitantly, drawn by Clover’s need but still uncertain of her place in this moment.

“I’m here, malishka,” she said softly, her accent thickening with emotion as it always did in moments of stress.

Clover reached for her with desperate fingers. “I dreamed they took us again. They hurt you and I couldn’t stop them.” A sob caught in her throat. “They made me watch.”

Yulia moved swiftly then, crossing to the opposite side of the bed, all hesitation gone. “It was just a dream,” she said, perching carefully on the edge of the mattress. “See? I am right here. The worst that happened to us was being hungry, thirsty, and some scrapes and bruises.”

Clover grasped at both of us, one hand clutching my arm, the other reaching for Yulia. She looked so young, so vulnerable, with her tear-streaked face and frightened eyes. My daughter. But Yulia’s too, in all the ways that mattered.

“Stay,” Clover pleaded. “Both of you. Please.”

I lifted the edge of the tangled blanket, a silent invitation for Yulia to join us properly on the bed. After only a moment’s hesitation, she slipped beneath the covers, careful of her bruised ribs as she settled beside Clover.

I did the same on the other side, creating a protective barrier of bodies around our daughter. The full-size bed was too small for the three of us, forcing us close together in a tangle of limbs and shared breath. Clover’s smaller frame fit between us, her head tucked under my chin, her back pressed against Yulia’s chest. My arm stretched across them both, hand coming to rest on Yulia’s shoulder, completing the circle of protection.

“We’ve got you,” I murmured against Clover’s hair. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not ever again.”

“I was so scared,” Clover whispered, her body still trembling slightly between us. “When they grabbed me at the fair, I didn’t even have time to scream. And then they took Yulia too, and I thought --” She broke off, unable to voice her darkest fears.

“Shh,” Yulia soothed, her hand stroking Clover’s arm in slow, rhythmic motions. “We are home now. Your father found us, just as I knew he would.”

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