My gut twisted just thinking about it.
Was this restraint a strength, or a profound weakness? Was I protecting her, or was I just a coward, afraid to shatter the fragile peace we’d built?
Yes, I’d kissed her, hugged her, and shared a bed with her, but that was it. No sex. The thought made my skin crawl with a desperate, conflicting urge. Dear God, I wanted her, with a raw, primal hunger that clawed at my insides, yet the image of her pain, the ghost of her suffering, held me captive.
My body screamed for what felt like a natural progression, a claiming that everyone expected, that I expected of myself. But my mind recoiled, a guardian built of guilt and fear. To take her now felt like a violation of the silent promise I’d made to her, to myself, to the memory of her near-death. How could I, the one who swore to protect her from further harm, inflict even the slightest discomfort, the faintest echo of what she’d endured?This abstinence, I told myself, was a testament to my love, my respect for her. But a darker voice whispered that it was a selfish act, a way to preserve my own fragile sense of virtue, to avoid facing the true implications of my desire.
I knew about her past, what she suffered, endured at the hands of Steele. I saw the stretch marks marring her stomach from when she carried Wrenly. I had seen the cesarean scar from giving birth, but mainly I saw the bruises, the multitude of scrapes, cut marks, belt marks, whip marks that covered her body. Each scar was a fresh wound to my conscience. I witnessed the devastating aftermath of what those sick fucks did to her before they left her for dead. And when I carried her lifeless body back to the Tennessee clubhouse, I couldn’t look my brother Ink in the eyes, knowing I had failed him, only to realize that somehow, by the grace of God, she’d survived. The memory still burned, a brand on my soul. I was supposed to be the shield, the protector. My failure felt like a betrayal of everything I stood for, of the brotherhood, of the very oath I’d taken.
I remembered standing in shock when Bones, Stitch, and Jonah laid out all her injuries in great detail, unable to understand how she survived it all. How could anyone? And then I sat by her side for almost a year, watching as time removed the evidence of her captivity, holding her hand as I waited for her to wake up.
The waiting was a slow, agonizing torment. Every shallow breath she took, every flicker of her eyelids, brought a surge of desperate hope, followed by the crushing weight of fear. To have her so close, yet so distant, was a different kind of torture. And when she woke, and I looked into her beautiful blue eyes, I knew she was mine. It was a day I would never forget. Or was it? Was she truly mine to claim, or was I merely clinging to a phantom, a desperate hope born from my own inability to let her go? My possessive thought warred with the memory of her vulnerability,of her need for freedom. Could I be her salvation, or would my love become another nightmare, however distorted?
The choice gnawed at me, a constant, distracting unease.
To act was to risk everything; to not act was to condemn us both to a half-life.
Another explosion rocked the clubhouse as I glared at Digger, who smirked, shrugging his shoulders.
“Slaughter finished the three to the south. He’s moving east now,” Sypher informed.
“Well, I ain’t just gonna sit here and let him have all the fun,” Digger said, cocking his shotgun. “Let’s show these fuckers how us Tennessee boys like to play.”
Nodding, Whiskey opened the front doors as my cousins rushed out, firing at will.
I was just about to follow when I heard her soft, angelic voice.
“Where am I?”
The sound of her voice, soft and laced with confusion, cut through the roar of gunfire and explosions. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. The shattered hallway, the stench of gunpowder, the panicked shouts of my brothers—it all faded as I turned to face her.
Karlyn.
Standing there, blinking in the dim light, her eyes wide and confused, was the anchor I’d been desperately searching for my entire life. With one look, she stripped me bare.
I was hers.
She was mine.
The year spent by her side, watching her heal, had been a testament to her strength, a quiet battle waged in the heart of our shared trauma. Hers fighting for survival; mine trying to reconcile the fact I couldn’t get to her sooner. The scars,both visible and hidden, were a part of her, a roadmap of her resilience, not a mark of weakness. And in that moment, as she looked at me, I saw not the broken girl I’d carried back from the brink of death, but a woman who had found her way back to life, back to herself.
“Karlyn,” I breathed, the name a prayer, a plea.
The urgency of the battle outside warred with the overwhelming need to hold her, to pull her into the safety of my arms and shield her from the chaos. But trouble was at our doorstep, and it demanded my attention.
“Where am I?”
The second I took a step toward her, she flinched and retreated two steps. Taking a deep breath, I held up my hands and calmly said, “Karlyn, my name is Jackson Williams. I’m a brother in the Golden Skulls MC. Your brother Karl is my brother Ink. Baby, you’ve been asleep for a very long time.”
“Where is Karl?”
“In California, and after my brothers and I take care of a little pest control, I will happily take you to him, but right now, I need you somewhere safe.” My voice was rough, raspy, a stark contrast to the calm I tried to project. The instinct to protect her, honed over countless nights of vigilance and whispered reassurances, surged through me.
Another explosion rocked the clubhouse, and I cringed, wanting to strangle Digger to death. Fucker was determined to blow up another clubhouse.
“What’s happening?” Her voice, laced with fear, was a physical blow. The innocence of her question, her genuine bewilderment, tore at me. She was the reason I fought, the reason I endured the relentless chase, the constant threat. Her safety was my ultimate objective, the beacon that guided me through the darkness for months as I slowly and systematicallyhunted and killed members of the Satan’s Angels, vowing not to rest until I removed every threat to her.
“Please don’t ask me that, baby. I don’t want to lie to you.”
