Page 4 of Salvation (Reckless Kings MC #6)

Yulia

The spring sun beat down on my shoulders as I cut across the compound, my steps quick and purposeful despite the uncertainty churning in my stomach.

Eleven years at the Reckless Kings had taught me the quickest routes between buildings, how to avoid the areas where Prospects congregated, and most importantly -- who to trust with secrets that burned in my chest like embers.

Today, that knowledge led me straight to the picnic area behind the main clubhouse, where I knew Whisper would be enjoying her midday break.

My hands trembled slightly, and I shoved them into my pockets. I’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times since last night, when Salvation’s gaze had lingered on mine across the dinner table, making my heart race and my courage falter. But practice did nothing to ease the knot in my throat now.

I spotted her beneath the shade of an old oak tree, perched on a picnic table with a book in her lap.

Whisper -- Brick’s adopted daughter and Forge’s wife -- was the club’s unofficial voice of reason.

You would think it would have been Lyssa, the President’s woman, but she tended to be more aggressive than Whisper.

If anyone could help me make sense of the mess inside my head, it would be her.

She looked up as I approached, a smile warming her face. “Yulia. This is a surprise.” She closed her book, marking her place with a finger. “Everything okay?”

“I…” The words stuck in my throat. I took a deep breath and sat beside her on the bench, leaving enough distance between us to feel comfortable. My fingers found the hem of my shirt, worrying the fabric between them. “I need advice.”

Whisper nodded, waiting patiently. The gentle breeze lifted strands of her hair, carrying the scent of her light perfume. In the distance, motorcycles revved as members came and went, but our corner remained peaceful.

“It’s about Salvation,” I finally said, my accent thickening as it always did when I was nervous. “About… us.”

“I figured it might be.” Her voice held no judgment, just quiet understanding.

I glanced at her, surprised. “Was I that obvious?”

She smiled. “Only to someone who’s been watching. The way you look at him when you think no one notices. The way he makes excuses to be near you at club gatherings.” She shrugged. “What’s on your mind?”

The dam broke. Words poured out of me in a rush.

“I don’t know what to do. We’ve been married for eleven years, but it’s never been…

real. At first, it was just about protection.

I was sixteen, terrified. He saved my life.

The marriage was just papers, a shield against my father’s enemies. Empty words and nothing more.”

Whisper nodded, her eyes soft with understanding.

“Then we became… friends, I guess. Roommates. He raised Clover. I finished school. We built a life together, but always with this… distance.” I swallowed hard. “Separate rooms. Separate lives under one roof.”

“And now?” Whisper prompted gently.

“Now I can’t stop thinking about him.” The admission burned my cheeks. “The way he moves. His voice. His hands.” I shook my head, frustration building. “Last night, I almost told him. The words were right there, but I couldn’t say them.”

“Why not?”

I bit my lip, staring down at my fidgeting hands. “What if I tell him how I feel and he doesn’t want me that way? We’re technically married, but at the same time, we aren’t, if that makes sense. If he asks me to leave, I’ll have nowhere to go.”

The fear I’d been carrying for so long finally had voice, and it sounded pathetic even to my own ears. But Whisper didn’t laugh. Instead, she reached out slowly -- giving me time to pull away -- and placed her hand over mine, stilling my restless fingers.

“Yulia, look at me.” When I met her gaze, her eyes were firm but kind. “That man has protected you for eleven years. He’s not going to suddenly change because you admit you have feelings for him.”

“You don’t know that,” I whispered.

“I do.” Her confidence was unwavering. “I’ve known Kye a bit longer than you.

He doesn’t make commitments lightly. When he pledged to protect you, he meant it -- for life.

Not just from external threats, but from pain.

From fear.” She squeezed my hand gently.

“He would cut off his own arm before he’d hurt you. ”

Her words warmed something inside me but doubt still gnawed. “Then why the distance? All these years, he’s never… indicated he wanted more.”

Whisper’s expression softened. “Have you considered that maybe he’s afraid of the same thing?

That if he crossed that line, you’d feel trapped?

Obligated?” She released my hand and leaned back.

“The man rescued you from the edge of death, Yulia. He’s painfully aware of how vulnerable you were.

How much power he had over your situation. ”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. The idea that Salvation -- strong, confident Salvation -- might be as uncertain as I was seemed impossible. Yet…

“But what if I’m misreading everything?” I looked away when Whisper’s gaze became too knowing. “What if he only sees me as… a responsibility? A friend at most?”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Be honest with him.”

The thought made my stomach clench with terror. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm day. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You survived your father’s enemies. You survived your own darkest moment.” Whisper’s voice dropped lower. “You’re stronger than you think, Yulia.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe I was. But as I sat there, the spring breeze carrying the sounds of the compound around us, I couldn’t help but think of all I stood to lose.

The home I’d built. The fragile peace I’d found.

And most of all, the man who’d been my constant for eleven years -- first as savior, then as friend, and now as… something I couldn’t quite name.

“What if I tell him,” I whispered, “and everything changes?”

Whisper smiled, a knowing light in her eyes.

“That’s the point, isn’t it? Change is scary.

But some things are worth the risk.” She glanced toward the clubhouse, where several members were emerging.

“Take it from someone who knows -- loving a Reckless King isn’t simple.

But if it’s the right one, it’s worth every moment of fear. ”

I followed her gaze, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. Somewhere in that compound, Salvation was going about his day, completely unaware of the storm inside me. Unaware that tonight, perhaps, everything between us might change.

For better or worse.

* * *

Salvation

I found Beast alone in the clubhouse office, hunched over paperwork with a scowl that would’ve sent Prospects running.

But I’d known the man too long to be intimidated.

Hell, I’d patched in under his leadership, watched him build the Reckless Kings into what we were today.

If anyone could make sense of the mess in my head, it was him.

I knocked once on the doorframe, my knuckles rapping against the wood sharper than intended.

Beast looked up, his expression shifting from irritation to curiosity. “Salvation. What’s up?”

“Got a minute?” I asked, my voice rougher than normal.

He gestured to the chair across from his desk, closing the ledger he’d been reviewing. “Something wrong?”

I shut the door behind me, needing the privacy. The usual clubhouse sounds -- pool balls cracking, music thumping, brothers laughing -- became muffled. I sank into the chair but couldn’t get comfortable, my body tense with unspoken words.

“Not wrong, exactly.” I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling like a Prospect again instead of a patched member of eleven years. “I need… advice.”

Beast leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrowed slightly, reading me with the same precision he used to evaluate threats to the club. “What kind of advice?”

“Personal.” The word felt inadequate. I stood again, restless energy driving me to pace the small office. “It’s about Yulia.”

Understanding dawned in Beast’s eyes. He nodded slowly. “Been wondering when we’d have this conversation.”

That stopped me mid-stride. “What?”

Beast huffed out something close to a laugh. “Brother, you’ve been married to that woman for what, eleven years now? On paper only, yeah, but still. You share a home. You’ve watched her grow from a scared kid into a woman.” He shrugged. “Things change.”

I pressed my palms against the edge of his desk, leaning forward.

“That’s just it. I’ve noticed things changing between us.

The way she looks at me sometimes…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the electricity sometimes sparking between us in quiet moments.

The way her gaze lingered on mine across rooms. How my body had become hyperaware of hers -- her scent, her proximity, the accidental brushes of skin against skin.

“And?” Beast prompted.

“And I don’t know what to do about it.” I pushed away from the desk, resuming my pacing. “If I make a move, I might scare her. After everything she’s been through, I don’t want to cause her any harm.”

Beast watched me, his expression unreadable. “What exactly did she go through? You never told the club the details. Don’t get me wrong, we heard some before we decided to rescue her, but I have a feeling our intel wasn’t all of it.”

I shook my head. “Not my story to tell. But it was bad. She was sixteen, Beast. Suicidal. Her father’s enemies were after her.

The teacher at her boarding school…” My hands clenched into fists at the memory of the bruises, the cuts on her wrists, the hollow emptiness in her eyes when Hawk first brought her to us.

“And you married her to protect her,” Beast finished. “Made her legal family so her father’s people couldn’t touch her.”