Page 34 of Grim

He grabbed coffee from the vending machine. It tasted like burnt dirt, but he drank it anyway. He stalked the hallways, checking exits, scanning faces, memorizing every person who lingered too long.

Nothing happened. But the tension in his chest never eased.

By the time Sophia stepped out of the ICU at the end of her shift, the sun was starting to rise. She looked exhausted, but when she saw him standing, waiting, something in her expression softened.

“You stayed,” she said quietly.

“Wasn’t leaving.”

They walked toward the parking garage together, her steps slow, his stride matching hers without thinking. The garage was dim, shadows stretching long between the concrete pillars. The sun was just beginning to rise, a pale wash of pink and gold bleeding across the horizon. The parking garage caught almost none of it. The concrete swallowed the light, leaving long, cold shadows stretching between the pillars.

Grim noticed instantly. He moved closer without a word, his presence a wall of heat against the early-morning chill. “Stay near me.” She didn’t argue.

Their footsteps echoed through the garage, too loud, too alone. The air smelled faintly of oil and damp concrete, the kind of scent that clung to the back of the throat. A lone bird chirped somewhere outside, the sound oddly sharp in the quiet.

Sophia wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s too quiet.”

Grim’s eyes swept the garage. “Yeah.”

They walked together, her shoulder brushing his arm every few steps. The sun’s first rays filtered through the open slats, slicing the darkness into thin, uneven stripes. It should have made her feel safer. It didn’t.

Halfway to her car, Grim slowed. Sophia felt it before she understood it, the shift in his body, the tension coiling through him like a drawn bowstring.

“What is it?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. His head tilted slightly, listening. His hand hovered near her hip, not touching, but close enough that she felt the heat of it.

A sound drifted through the garage. Soft. Wrong. A scrape of rubber on concrete.

Grim went still. Not frozen — calibrated. His head tilted a fraction, isolating the sound the way he’d been taught in buildings that smelled like dust and gun oil. Weight distribution. Pace. Intent.

Not a civilian. Not someone lost. Someone hunting.

Sophia’s breath hitched. “Grim…”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her with his body, muscles going rigid. His eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows with lethal precision.

His stance widened automatically, center of gravity dropping, body angled to shield her while keeping his dominant hand free. Muscle memory. Years of clearing rooms and surviving ambushes.

Another sound. A footstep. Slow. Deliberate. Too controlled to be an accident.

Sophia’s pulse hammered in her ears. Grim’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Behind me.”

She moved without thinking, pressing close to his back. He shifted just enough to shield her completely, his stance widening, his shoulders squared.

The garage felt colder now. Smaller. Like the walls were closing in. Sophia swallowed hard. “Maddox…”

He didn’t flinch at the name this time. He was too focused. Too still.

A figure stepped out from behind a pillar—broad shoulders, dark jacket, the unmistakable patch of the Iron Reapers glinting in the low light.

Sophia froze. Grim didn’t. He moved so fast she barely saw it. One second he was beside her, the next he was between her and the threat, body coiled, eyes gone cold and lethal.

The Reaper lunged.

Grim met him head-on.

The impact was brutal, fists, elbows, the scrape of boots on concrete. Grim landed a blow that cracked against the Reaper’s jaw, sending him stumbling.