Stupid woman.

Stupid fucking bitch.

Those thoughts were the only things running through Bo's head as he sat on the porch, cigarette cradled in his shaking fingers. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the cracked wooden planks beneath him. He should've never let her out of his sight. Driving to the grocery store was supposed to be routine - every Sunday, after church, she used his truck to get food for the week.

This Sunday was different. She was late. Not just a little late - hours late. Instead of being home by 3:15 at the absolute latest, the clock on the porch now read 4:30. The cigarette smoke curled around his face as he exhaled sharply, the nicotine failing to calm his racing heart. What the fuck could she be doing? The worst-case scenarios played through his mind like a broken record.

Did she turn him in to the police? The thought made his jaw clench. Or had she found another man? He'd kill that son of a bitch right in front of her, then lock her in the basement where she couldn't cause any more trouble. A man shouldn't be waiting on his woman like this.

The familiar rumble of his truck's engine cut through his thoughts. Bo stood immediately, dropping his cigarette and grinding it under his boot. As the engine died, he stalked toward the vehicle, his boots crunching on the gravel driveway. He knocked sharply on the window, his expression dark and dangerous. When she rolled it down, he leaned in, the scent of gasoline and his cologne filling the small space between them.