Page 113 of Grim

Sophia swallowed hard, emotion tightening her throat. “You don’t have to do that.”

Stone shook his head. “We do. You’ve patched up enough of us so far, and most likely will be fixing up more in the future. You’re family. And family gets a say.”

Sophia looked down at her hands, blinking fast. “Thank you.”

Stone nodded once, like the matter was settled. “When you’re ready,” he repeated. “Just tell me.”

He left the lasagna on the counter and walked out, boots thudding softly against the porch. Grim watched him go, then looked at Sophia — really looked — and she saw the pride in his eyes.

“You deserve that,” Grim murmured.

Sophia didn’t feel strong yet. But for the first time since she’d been taken, she felt… useful. Wanted. Included.

And that was its own kind of healing.

For a moment, the house fell quiet again, not the suffocating quiet of the cage, but a softer one. A settling. A breath. Sophia stood there with her hand still resting on the counter, feeling the weight of Stone’s words settle into her bones.

Then the day moved again.

Not all at once. Not loudly. Just… one brother at a time.

Grim hovered nearby, watching each man work with a tension that only eased when Sophia didn’t flinch. Every time she stayed steady, even for a second, he breathed a little easier.

Havoc fixed her broken porch light without being asked, muttering about “damn shadows” and “safety first.”

As he tightened the last screw, Havoc glanced toward the window where Grim hovered in the hallway, pretending not to watch. His voice dropped, low enough that only Sophia could hear.

“He’s running himself ragged, you know.” He didn’t look at her when he said it — just tested the bulb, the light washing warm across the porch.

“Man’s held together with duct tape and stubbornness. Just… don’t let him do it alone.”

Before she could respond, Havoc stepped off the porch, muttering something about checking the breaker box, like he hadn’t just said the most unexpectedly gentle thing she’d heard all week.

Sophia watched him go, a small knot forming in her chest. Havoc joked, barked, filled every room with noise — but that wasn’t what she’d seen just now. He’d noticed Grim’s unraveling. He’d noticed hers. And somehow, beneath all that chaos, he understood both. More than she expected. More than she was ready for.

The porch light hummed softly above her, warm and steady. A small thing. But it made her feel… safer. Seen.

She exhaled slowly, grounding herself as footsteps approached again.

Rook installed a new deadbolt on her back door, testing it a few times before nodding in approval. Avery stood beside him, a small box from Sweet Treats cradled in her hands. She offered them with a soft smile, careful not to crowd Sophia, her voice gentle as she said, “Thought you might like something fresh.”

The visit was brief, warm, and exactly what Sophia could handle. These small, gentle visits felt like stepping stones, tiny pieces of normal life she could touch without drowning. She wasn’t ready for crowds, but this… this she could manage. And when they left, another presence stepped in to take their place.

Ledger set up cameras around the property, adjusting angles, muttering about blind spots, and promising her that nothing — nothing — would get past them again.

Fish never came inside. But Sophia sometimes saw him at the edge of the property, moving like a shadow, checking the tree line before disappearing again.

Lacey stopped by once with a basket of muffins, cheeks pink, eyes glossy with worry. She didn’t stay long, just squeezed Sophia’s hand and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home,” before slipping out again.

Sophia didn’t realize how much she needed that until she saw them standing on her porch, covered in sawdust, offering her a bag of groceries and a tired smile. Being cared for felt strange after so much fear, but it also felt like healing.

On the seventh day, Abuela arrived.

She didn’t knock. She never knocked. She swept into the house with a giant pot of pozole, muttering in rapid Spanish about “niños stubborn as mules” and “men who don’t eat enough.” The smell filled the kitchen instantly, warm, rich, and comforting, like a hug made of chiles and hominy.

Grim tried to stand when she entered the kitchen.

Abuela smacked his arm lightly. “Sit. You look like a scarecrow.”