Page 128 of Grim

Sophia’s eyes filled with tears. She stepped into Grim’s arms, whispering against his chest, “I choose you.”

Grim cupped her face, voice breaking. “And I finally believe it.”

Sophia smiled through her tears, soft, certain, and fierce. “Then hear it again. I choose you every time.”

He kissed her, slow, deep, and reverent, as the Saints cheered around them, the rebuilt clubhouse standing strong behind them, and the sun dipped below the horizon like a blessing.

Family.

Found.

Forever.

Epilogue

Grim

The house was small, sun-warmed, and full of life: mismatched mugs in the sink, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table, a pair of Grim’s boots by the door, and Sophia’s favorite blanket draped over the back of the couch. It wasn’t perfect.

But it was theirs. A place stitched together with late-night whispers, quiet mornings, and the kind of peace neither of them had ever believed they’d earn.

Sophia stood at the stove, stirring a pot of café de olla, the cinnamon-spiced steam curling into the air. Behind her, Grim moved quietly, barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, a softness in his eyes that existed for no one else.

A year ago, he’d been all sharp edges and shadows. He hadn’t known how to live in the light. Now he woke up in it. Now he was still sharp, still dangerous, but the shadows didn’t swallow him whole anymore.

Not here. Not with her.

Sophia wore his ring on a thin silver chain around her neck. It rested over her heart, warm from her skin, a promise she touched without thinking whenever she looked at him.

Grim had a new tattoo over his heart, a small milagro charm with a vanilla blossom in the center. Inked in black and silver. A symbol of protection. Of faith. Of her.

He’d gotten it without telling her.

She’d cried when she saw it.

They were building a life together, messy, healing, beautiful in its imperfection. Some days were easy. Some days were hard. Some nights they still woke tangled in each other’s arms, breathless from nightmares that no longer owned them.

But they always found their way back.

She leaned back into him, letting his warmth settle around her like something she’d spent her whole life giving away but never receiving. His hands splayed over her stomach, steady and sure, protective even here, even now.

“Coffee’s almost done,” she whispered.

“I don’t care about coffee.”

He turned her gently, lifting her chin with a touch so careful it still made her chest ache. His eyes searched hers, the same eyes that had once held nothing but violence and loneliness.

Now they held her. All of her.

Sophia brushed her thumb over the milagro tattoo, the ink warm beneath her touch. “You carry this differently now,” she murmured.

Grim’s breath hitched. “How’s that?”

She looked up at him, soft and certain. “It doesn’t look like something you survived. It looks like something you chose.”

His jaw tightened with feeling.

“And me?” he asked quietly. “What do I look like now?”