Page 136 of Jude

‘She won’t even answer Bishop or Deacon’s calls when I asked them to check in on her, Dad,’ I said. ‘I’ve no clue where she’s at.’

‘Then you use your clout to search for her until you get answers,’ Kian said, his eyes locked onto mine through the screen. ‘Get out there, grinding to find her. Meantime, I’ve handled the trash that targeted you.’

I tilted my head, tuning in to his shift in tone. ‘What did you do?’

‘I used a few old department connections and put some bureaucratic pressure on the prison Dario rots in,’ Kian said. ‘His warden has moved him into solitary confinement. No phone privileges, no yard time, just hours of endless reflection. Same thing for Luisa. The feds will also be reviewing their indictments and sentencing. As for Ignazio, Interpol will be extraditing him to the US in a few weeks.’

‘Will the charges stick?’ I asked.

‘They’re all going away for a very long time, Judah,’ Kian stated, his nod firm and decisive. ‘All these idiots had already passed their three-strike felony limit. The prosecutor is considering thirty-year mandatory minimum sentences with zero chance of early parole for all of them. They’re neutralized.’

The news brought a grim satisfaction, but it did nothing to ease the hollow ache in my gut.

The criminals were locked away behind iron bars.

However, the innocent woman who almost ripped out my heart was still out there in the cold, running from the man who should’ve been her sanctuary.

We crossed the finish line of the European tour under a cascade of flashing strobe beams and thunderous applause in Valencia.

We wrapped up our extensive run, and a few days later, I was back home.

I pushed through the oak front door.

The silence hit me hard, my steps echoing through the five-thousand-square-foot house.

With an inhale, I marched toward Sofia’s guest suite.

I turned the brass handle and stepped inside, sensing at once that she had cleared out of the room.

The silk dresses I bought her still hung in the cedar closet, but her old denim jackets, her worn canvas sneakers, and her beat-up backpack were all missing.

With a frustrated growl, I swiveled around and walked into my primary.

Sitting on my bed, I lifted my phone to try her number.

My thumb hovered over the screen, freezing as my gaze locked onto the small velvet cube on my nightstand.

My wedding band, which Sofia bought for me.

I reached out and flipped the hinge open.

The ebony-brushed titanium ring caught the overhead light.

Foolish pride had made me refuse it.

I even claimed I disliked metal on my skin during performances, a pathetic excuse to maintain my emotional distance.

Now, the stupidity of my arrogance choked me as I yearned for her.

For her scent, the softness of her skin, for how her touch shattered me, and for her quiet, resilient strength.

I slid the ring over my knuckle.

It fit perfectly, which sent a jolt straight through my chest.

You’re an idiot, Jude, I thought. You wanted a flawless life with a perfect fantasy wife, and you broke the only real relationship you’ve ever experienced.

I squeezed my fist, the metal edge biting into my finger, welcoming the pain as I forced my hand into a tight clench.