Chapter 5
"Two thousand dollars?" Sophia clenched her fists. "My studio doesn't even make two thousand dollars a month. You can't just—"
"Not my problem." The bald man waved his hand, and one of his guys grabbed something off the shelf and smashed it on the floor.
"And all this junk, taking up prime real estate." Another thug laughed, sweeping the design drafts off the desk and stomping on them. "You'd be better off shutting this place down."
"Stop it!" Sophia rushed over and shoved him aside, dropping to her knees to gather the drafts. Her voice was shaking. "These are client designs. You can't just—"
"Can't what?" The bald man strolled over and stood above her, looking down. "Pay up or get out. Your call."
Sophia felt a wave of despair wash over her. She shot to her feet and slapped him across the face.
The bald man froze.
It didn't really hurt. He just hadn't expected Sophia to actually hit him.
Then his expression shifted from shock to something cold and ugly.
"You little bitch. You just hit me?" He grabbed her wrist. "I'll sell you off today. I know people who'd love someone like you."
Before he finished the sentence, someone kicked the glass door open from outside.
The bald man felt the hand gripping Sophia's wrist get seized by an enormous force. His arm twisted backward like it was caught in a vice, and his bones snapped.
He screamed and let go of Sophia, looking up to find the source of the pain.
Leon was standing right in front of him.
To Leon, these guys were as good as dead.
"Who the hell are you?" One of the thugs snapped back to his senses first and pulled out a switchblade, lunging at Leon.
Leon didn't even look at him. He sidestepped the attack without effort and drove his fist into the guy's face. One hit. The thug crumpled, covered in blood, out cold.
Another thug's legs buckled. He turned and ran.
Leon grabbed a mug off the counter and flicked it. It caught the guy square in the back of the head. He grunted and went down, cracking his skull against the door frame, completely out.
Three thugs down. One on his knees screaming with a broken arm. One twitching in a pile of broken ceramic. One face-down in the doorway, not moving.
The bald man tried to push himself up. Leon put his foot on the man's chest and said quietly:
"Where were you planning to sell her?"
The bald man had no doubt that this man would crush his throat in the next second.
"I'm sorry! I was wrong! I'll never do it again!" he begged.
"Get out."
The bald man scrambled to his feet, dragged his unconscious guys along, and the whole group stumbled out of the studio. The roar of their motorcycles faded around the corner.
The studio finally went quiet.
Sophia leaned against the wall, still trembling.
"You hurt them. They're Red Snake Gang. This whole area is their turf. You've made enemies with them now. They won't let this go."
Leon turned to look at her.
"I know."
"You need to run. As far as you can. Leave San Francisco and never come back."
"I'm not leaving."
"You're not leaving?" Sophia stared at him. "Are you out of your mind?"
Leon bent down and started picking up the scattered drafts one by one.
"I've been in prison. Nobody will hire me. And I'm not afraid of some street thugs."
He paused, his voice low but steady.
"If you'll have me, I'll protect you."
Sophia felt something stir inside her.
Out here, there were no rules, no laws. Just the strong preying on the weak.
And this man had just taken down three guys without breaking a sweat. If he stayed, he could actually protect her and the studio.
She hesitated for a moment, then made up her mind.
"Fine, you can stay." Her voice was still a little unsteady. "But I can only promise you won't starve. Lunch included. No insurance, no days off. If you can handle that, stay. If not, leave now."
Leon finally smiled.
"I'm grateful."
Sophia dug a rag out of a drawer and tossed it to him.
"Clean up the blood first. Then sweep up the broken glass by the door."
Leon caught the rag and got down on his knees without a word, scrubbing the floor.
Sophia leaned against her desk and watched this tall man crouched on the floor, carefully wiping away the blood. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
Leon finished the floor, swept up the broken pieces, put the fabric samples back in order, and straightened the display rack that had been knocked over. He worked quickly and without complaint.
Sophia snuck a few glances at him. He was efficient, she had to admit.
"What's your name again?" she asked.
"Leon."
"Last name?"
"Just Leon."
Sophia frowned but didn't push it. Maybe he didn't want to give his full name. She could understand that.
"You're a hard worker," she said, her tone a little softer than before. "What did you do before?"
"All kinds of odd jobs."
Sophia looked at him, hesitated, then said:
"You've seen this place. It's just me holding it together. The margins are thin. Half the time I can't even pay myself."
"My daughter Mia is four. When I'm swamped, I might need you to pick her up from preschool or drop her off. Nothing major. Just helping out."
"Mia."
Something shifted quietly inside Leon. He repeated the name to himself.
She was four years old. He had missed four whole years of her life.
"You okay?" Sophia noticed something cross his face and frowned.
"I'm fine." Leon shook his head. "Mia's a nice name."
Just then, Sophia's phone rang.
She stepped aside to answer it. The person on the other end seemed to be talking fast and urgently.
Leon wasn't trying to listen, but his senses were sharper than most people's. Even from a few feet away, he could faintly make out a woman's voice coming through the phone, speaking quickly.
Sophia's expression darkened.
"Okay. I got it." Her voice dropped low. "I'll be right there."
She hung up, and Leon asked immediately:
"What happened?"
"Mia's at school and..."
She paused, like she was choosing her words carefully.
"She got into some kind of trouble. I need to go check on her."
