Page 31 of Grim

Sophia stepped out of her bedroom in fresh scrubs, hair pulled back, cheeks still warm from sleep. His pulse kicked. Scrubs shouldn’t be attractive, but on her they were. Too much. He forced his expression flat, refusing to let any of it show.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, painting soft gold across the floor. It would be dark by the time she got to the hospital.

Grim was waiting by the door, arms crossed, eyes tracking her like he was cataloging every detail.

“You ready?” he asked.

She grabbed her bag. “Yeah.”

“I’m driving you.”

She blinked. “You’re what now.”

“You heard me.” She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. He was staying anyway. He’d follow her anyway. And honestly… she didn’t hate the idea of not walking through the parking garage alone.

“Fine,” she said. “But I’m not riding on the back of your bike.”

He jerked his chin toward her driveway. “Took your car keys off the counter.”

Her jaw dropped. “You—Maddox!”

He stiffened. Her calling him that always did something to him. Something he didn’t like. Something he couldn’t stop.

“Don’t call me that,” he muttered.

She ignored him. “You can’t just take my keys!”

“You left them out,” he said, unbothered. “I’m driving.”

She stared at him, incredulous. “You can’t just…”

“Get in the car, Sophia.”

She huffed, but she got in.

Grim slid behind the wheel, adjusting the seat back to accommodate his size. The car looked too small for him, like the frame strained to contain him.

They pulled out of the driveway, the sun dipping lower, shadows stretching long across the road.

For a few minutes, it was quiet. Then Grim’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

Once. Twice. A third time.

Grim’s pulse didn’t spike — it narrowed. Training slid into place, cold and automatic. He tracked the car’s distance, speed, lane discipline. Not random. Not casual. Patterned.

His brain mapped the streets ahead without thinking — exits, choke points, blind corners. Evasion routes he’d learned overseas, now repurposed for a quiet Alabama suburb.

Sophia noticed the tension in his jaw. “What?”

“Car behind us,” he said. “Been there since we left.”

His breathing slowed the way it used to before an ambush, vision narrowing, cataloging distance, speed, angles. His body locked in place in that way it only did when danger was real.

Her stomach dipped. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He changed lanes. The car changed lanes.