Page 95 of Grim

Grim’s pulse kicked hard. “Sophia.”

“We don’t know which room,” Stone said quietly. “But we know the right building.”

Grim’s breath shuddered. “Take me there.”

Stone nodded once. “On foot. Tight formation.”

Grim wiped the blood from his knife, slid it back into its sheath, and whispered:

“I’m coming, Sophia.”

And the Saints moved into the compound’s shadows, silent, lethal, and unified, following Grim’s fury toward the building that held her.

Chapter 31

Grim

The night felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. Too expectant.

The Saints moved across the far edge of the Reapers’ compound on foot, slipping between shadows and rusted structures like a storm with its teeth bared. No engines. No roar. Just the soft crunch of boots and the low hum of Ledger’s voice in their comms.

“Thermal spike in the southeast building,” Ledger murmured. “Small room. One heat signature, low to the ground. Could be her.”

Grim’s chest tightened until it hurt.

Stone didn’t try to stop him when he moved to the front. No one did. Not after Spider. Not after the sector marker. Not after the way Grim had whispered I’m coming, Sophia like a vow carved out of bone.

The warehouse loomed ahead, tall and rotting, its metal siding warped and peeling like old skin. A single bulb flickered above the loading dock, casting a sickly yellow glow across the cracked pavement. Wind rattled a loose sheet of tin, the sound sharp and hollow.

Rook exhaled slowly. “This place smells like death.”

Havoc cracked his neck. “Good. Means we’re close.”

Stone lifted his hand. The line froze.

He pointed to Grim. “You take point.”

Grim didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

They stacked up at the door, Grim at the front, Stone behind him, Havoc and Rook covering angles, Fish watching their six. Their movements were quiet, practiced, the kind of coordination that came from surviving things no one talked about.

Grim shoved the door open.

The hinges screamed like something dying.

The air inside was thick, damp and stale and tinged with mold and the metallic bite of old blood. His boots echoed on the concrete, each step a dull thud that reverberated through the empty space.

Fish signaled from the shadows, two fingers, then left. Two guards.

Stone’s voice was low. “Take them.”

Two muffled thuds. Two bodies dropped.

Grim didn’t look.

He followed the sound instead.

A sound he’d know anywhere.