Page 93 of Grim

The two men peeled off, moving like shadows. Two muffled impacts. Two bodies down.

Silence reclaimed the yard.

Stone pointed to Grim, then to the door. You’re on me.

They stacked up, Stone at the hinge, Grim at the breach point, Havoc and Rook covering rear angles, Fish watching the perimeter. Their movements were smooth and practiced, the kind of coordination that came from years of surviving things no one talked about.

Stone tapped Grim’s shoulder twice. Ready.

Grim nodded. Go.

Stone eased the door open. They slipped inside.

The stench hit immediately, sweat and blood and stale beer and the copper tang of old violence. A radio crackled low in the corner, static hissing between half-heard words. Footsteps echoed deeper inside, uneven and careless.

Grim felt Spider before he saw him. A sickness in the air. A stain.

Stone held up three fingers. Three Reapers in the next room.

Grim didn’t wait.

He kicked the door in.

Chaos detonated.

A knife flashed, Grim caught the wrist mid-swing, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man’s throat. The crack echoed off concrete. Another swung a bat, and Stone shot him in the knee, dropping him screaming. The third reached for a gun, and Grim slammed his head into the wall until he stopped moving.

Stone grabbed Grim’s arm. “We need one alive.”

Grim hauled the last Reaper up by his vest. “Where is Spider?”

The man spat blood. “Go to hell.”

Grim slammed him again. “Where?!”

The Reaper laughed, wet and broken. “He’s long gone. Took the girl with him.”

Grim’s vision tunneled.

Stone stepped in. “Grim—”

But the Reaper kept talking.

“Begged like a bitch. Screaming for you—”

Grim snapped.

His knife was in the man’s throat before Stone could stop him.

The body slid down the wall.

Stone exhaled. “We needed him alive.”

Grim wiped the blade on the man’s vest. “He wasn’t Spider.”

Fish’s voice crackled through comms. “Movement! Back exit! One runner!”

Grim was already moving.