Page 138 of Jude

The man’s posture was aggressive as he barked a series of terse, biting orders at her with an unnecessary, bullying air of authority.

Sofia just nodded, her shoulders rigid, absorbing the hostility without a word.

I longed to tear out of the vehicle, cross that street, and put both the drivers and her boss through the nearest brick wall.

I was dying to intervene, to remind every man on that lot who she belonged to, but I held back, even if the restraint ripped me apart.

She had no clue yet I was there, and my first approach to her could not threaten her job.

Sofia emerged once more, pushing an industrial mop across the grease-stained floor.

I sat in the shadowed cab, eyes on her as she lugged equipment and cleaned up.

Acting as her sentinel, I kept my eyes pinned on the glowing yellow lights of the open depot bays while my mind wrestled with how to reclaim what was mine.

First things first, her fuckin’ boss.

At dawn, when she got on the bus to return to her shelter after her shift, I stepped out of my ride and crossed the road.

I headed towards the manager’s drab office.

I skipped knocking, kicking the door open, the edge bouncing off the walls as I prowled into his space.

A brass nameplate on the clutter of the desk read Arthur Miller.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he sniped.

Up close, Miller was a greasy slug with a coward’s sneer plastered across his slick face.

‘Sofia Antonelli? She work for you?’

He nodded.

I stalked around his worktable.

‘The hell?’

His eyes dilated, and he scrambled back in his chair.

I grabbed the lapels of his cheap shirt, hauling him out of his seat to slam him into the wall.

‘She’s my wife.’

His eyes watered at the unadulterated menace in my growl.

‘I’ve done nothing -.’

‘You listen to me,’ I rumbled. ‘You raise your voice to her again, you bully her, or you speak down to her one more time, and I will end you. Same goes to your useless crew, they treat her with any less respect than they would a Queen, their asses are mine. Hear?’

I shoved my fists down, wrapping my fingers around his right hand and squeezing the bones together with crushing force.

Miller shrieked, his face blanched like curdled milk as the joints popped beneath my grip.

I held him at the edge of agony for three seconds, letting him wallow in terror, then threw him back into his chair.

Miller scrambled back, clutching his throbbing hand to his chest, gasping for air while I stared him down with cold eyes.

‘Understand me, Miller?’ I growled.