Page 4 of Salvation

“Thank you,” I managed.

A small smile touched her lips before she disappeared.

I shut the door, leaning against it. My mind raced. Another girl, rescued? What was this place?

Heavy footsteps approached. Kye’s voice rumbled through the wood. “Everything all right, Yulia?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. I… the clothes. Thank you.”

“Good.” His tone softened. “Remember, you’re safe here. No one will hurt you again. I promise.”

I sank to the floor. Tears burned, but didn’t fall.

The silence engulfed me as Kye’s footsteps faded away. I pushed myself up from the floor, my legs trembling slightly. The room seemed to close in, unfamiliar and daunting. I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking comfort in the gesture.

My gaze drifted to the pile of clothes Clover had left. Clean. New. A stark contrast to the tattered remnants of my old life that still clung to me. I ran my fingers over the soft fabric, marveling at the simple kindness.

The bed called to me, its promise of rest both alluring and terrifying. What dreams -- what nightmares -- awaited me there? I perched on the edge, my body heavy with exhaustion.

“Breathe, Yulia,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. “Just breathe.”

I closed my eyes, willing my racing thoughts to slow. The day’s events swirled in my mind -- the cold metal of the knife, the roar of the motorcycle, Kye’s steady gaze. It felt surreal, like a fever dream I couldn’t shake.

My hand unconsciously traced the faint scars on my arm. The past whispered, threatening to drag me back. But here, in this strange room, surrounded by people I didn’t know… was it possible to outrun the past?

I lay back, sinking into the mattress. The ceiling blurred as exhaustion tugged at me. “Safe,” I murmured, testing the word on my tongue. It felt foreign, fragile. As sleep began to claim me, I clung to Kye’s promise like a lifeline. No matter what tomorrow brought, for tonight at least, I was protected. The thought followed me into an uneasy slumber, where motorcycles roared and scarred arms reached out to catch me as I fell.

Chapter One

Yulia

Eleven Years Later

I paused in the doorway to the kitchen, my breath catching at the sight before me. Salvation stood at the stove, his broad back to me as he stirred something that filled the air with a rich, savory scent. Beside him, Clover frowned at a textbook, pencil tapping against the page. Salvation turned to point at something, his voice a low, patient rumble. The domesticity of it struck me like a physical blow -- this simple moment between father and daughter. A life I’d never known, never thought I’d be part of. Yet here I was, hovering at the edge, not quite in, not quite out. Always watching.

“If you divide both sides by three, what do you get?” Salvation asked, not missing a beat as he expertly chopped some herbs, the knife flashing in his steady hands.

Clover sighed dramatically. “X equals twelve.”

“Good.” He scraped the herbs into the stew. “Now try the next one.”

I leaned against the doorframe, mesmerized by his movements. For such a powerful man, Salvation handled each task with surprising gentleness. Not just the cooking, but also the way he handled Clover. My own father had been nothing like Salvation. I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the man's every move. His forearms flexed with each motion, the sleeves of his T-shirt stretched tight around solid biceps.

“This one has two variables,” Clover complained, yanking me from my thoughts.

“Start with what you know,” Salvation replied, giving the stew a good stir. “Isolate one variable, then solve for it.”

The scent of our dinner cooking made my stomach growl. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now. Salvation glanced over his shoulder at the sound, and our eyes met briefly. My cheeks warmed. I looked away first.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, his voice softer than when he’d been explaining equations. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. When I looked up again, he’d already turned back to the stove. My gaze traced the strong line of his shoulders, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. In moments like this, I could almost forget he was Kye, the man who’d rescued me. The man I’d married -- on paper, at least -- for protection. Here, in this kitchen, he was just Salvation. A man cooking dinner for his family.

Family. The word still felt foreign, uncomfortable. Like clothes that didn’t quite fit. I shifted my weight, and my sleeve rode up. The silvery scars on my wrist caught the light. A harsh reminder of where I’d been, what I’d almost done. Well, what I’d nearly done again because that hadn’t been my first attempt. I tugged my sleeve down quickly, heart pounding.

“You just going to stand there all night?” Clover asked, breaking into my thoughts. Her eyes, too knowing for her sixteen years, flickered between me and Salvation.

“I… no.” I pushed away from the doorframe and approached the table, sliding into the chair across from her. “How’s the homework going?”

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