Chapter 13
Grim
They drove to the clubhouse next. Grim kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was back in that little kitchen with the rooster magnets and the smell of cinnamon.
Back with Abuela calling him mijo like it wasn’t a word that should’ve burned going down.
Back with Sophia laughing, soft and warm, like she’d never had to learn how to survive the way he had.
He didn’t know what to do with any of it.
He pulled into the lot and parked her silver Honda, the engine ticking softly as it cooled. Before Sophia could reach for the handle, he was already out of the car and at her door, opening it with the same quiet certainty he used for everything that mattered.
She looked up at him.
And Christ.
The morning light hit her like it had been waiting for her, catching in her hair, warming her skin, softening every line of her face. She looked like something he shouldn’t touch. Something he wanted to anyway.
He braced a hand on the top of the doorframe, leaning in without meaning to. Close enough to feel her breath. Close enough to smell the faint sweetness of her shampoo. Close enough that the warmth of her skin brushed the air between them.
Her fingers tightened around the seat.
Grim didn’t move. Couldn’t. His eyes dragged over her face, slow, deliberate, hungry in a way he didn’t let himself be. He memorized the curve of her cheek, the shape of her mouth, the way her pulse fluttered at her throat.
She parted her lips.
His chest tightened.
He leaned in, not enough to touch, but enough that he felt the heat of her rise to meet him. Enough that his control thinned to a thread. Enough that he almost forgot who he was and what he was capable of.
His gaze dropped to her mouth.
He wanted her. He wanted her in a way that scared him.
His jaw flexed. He forced himself back, breath leaving him in a rough exhale. He grabbed the last shred of discipline he had.
“Careful,” he said quietly, voice rougher than he meant. “Step out.”
She did, legs unsteady. He pretended not to notice, but he noticed everything.
Inside, the clubhouse smelled like leather, oil, and coffee, familiar, grounding, loud in a way that usually settled him.
Today it didn’t.
Sophia walked beside him, and Grim could feel the ghost of her breath from the car, the warmth of her grandmother’s house clinging to his skin like something he wasn’t built to carry. He could still hear Abuela calling him mijo, a word that shouldn’t have cracked him open the way it did.
He didn’t know what to do with any of it.
A sharp metallic clang echoed from the mechanic bay, followed by a low, pained curse.
Grim’s head snapped toward the sound. Sophia turned too, instinctively moving closer to him. He felt it — the brush of her shoulder, the warmth of her body — and forced himself to focus.
Stone walked in first, calm and steady. Vandal followed behind him, clutching his forearm with a shop rag soaked through with blood.
Stone’s voice was low, even. “Sit down before you make it worse.”
Vandal grumbled but obeyed, dropping into a chair with a wince. “It’s not that bad.”
Stone gave him a look, the kind that shut down arguments. “You were using the grinder one-handed.”
“It was faster,” Vandal muttered.
“It was stupid,” Stone corrected, tone flat but not unkind.
Sophia stepped forward before Grim could stop her. “Let me see.”
Vandal blinked at her, thrown off. “Uh… hey, Sophia, right?”
“Yes. Hand,” she said, already kneeling beside him.
He hesitated until Stone nodded once.
Vandal handed it over immediately.
Grim moved without thinking, grabbing the first aid kit from the bar and placing it beside her.
Her fingers brushed his knuckles, light, unintentional, and he felt it everywhere.
Sophia peeled back the rag. A long, jagged slice ran across Vandal’s forearm, messy, bleeding, but not deep enough for stitches.
She sighed. “You’re lucky it didn’t catch the tendon.”
Vandal’s eyes widened. “Tendon?”
Stone’s brow lifted. “Do you want her to explain what happens when you sever one?”
“No,” Vandal said quickly.
Sophia hid a smile and reached for the supplies. “Don’t move.”
Vandal hissed as she irrigated the wound. “Damn, that stings.”
Sophia didn’t look up. “If you move, I’ll do it again.”
Vandal froze. “Yes ma’am.”
Stone’s mouth twitched, the closest he ever got to a smile. “She’s got you figured out already.”
Grim watched her hands, steady, sure, gentle in a way he’d never been. She wrapped the arm neatly, securing the bandage with practiced efficiency.
“There,” she said. “Keep it clean. No heavy tools for a day.”
Vandal looked at his arm like she’d performed a miracle. “Thanks. Seriously.”
Stone rested a hand briefly on Vandal’s shoulder, grounding him. “Next time, listen when I tell you to slow down.”
Vandal nodded, chastened. “Yeah. I know.”
Sophia stood, and Grim’s breath caught.
She looked up at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from concentration, hair falling loose around her face. Something warm and dangerous twisted in his chest.
He cleared his throat, forcing his voice steady. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”
He walked her through the room, Stone, Rook, Havoc, Ledger, Fish, Ghost, Vandal, each giving her a respectful nod. She smiled at them, soft and genuine, and Grim felt something in him tighten.
She fit here. Too easily.
Then he turned to her. “I’ll be quick. Need to grab a few things.”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t like leaving her alone in the clubhouse, not because she wasn’t safe, but because he didn’t want her out of his sight. He ignored the thought and went anyway.
When he came back, duffel slung over his shoulder, he stopped.
Sophia was at the bar with Lacey, the sweet, chatty girl who braided leather strips into keychains when she was bored. Lacey was showing her how to loop the strands, fingers moving fast. Sophia laughed at something she said, head tilting back, eyes bright.
Grim’s chest tightened.
She fit here. She fit everywhere. She fit with his brothers. She fit with his world. She fit with him.
And he was falling for her. Hard. Too hard.
But she’d never want someone like him. Someone broken. Someone violent. Someone who only knew how to protect by destroying.
He stayed back, out of the way, watching her laugh with Lacey.
Grim felt someone drift up beside him — quiet, light-footed, the way only Ghost moved. The kid didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking between Grim and Sophia like he was tracking something invisible.
After a long moment, Ghost spoke, voice low. “You’re… different around her.”
Grim’s jaw tightened. “How’s that?”
Ghost shrugged, not looking at him. “You don’t scan the room as much. Not like you usually do.”
Grim didn’t respond.
Ghost shifted his weight, almost awkward. “It’s not bad. Just… noticed.”
Grim glanced at him. “You notice everything.”
Ghost huffed a quiet breath — not quite a laugh. “Had to. Growing up.” He kicked at a loose piece of gravel with the toe of his boot. “My dad always said if you don’t watch people, you get blindsided.”
Grim understood that too well.
Ghost finally looked up at him, expression open, earnest in a way that made him look even younger. “She makes you calmer. That’s all I meant.”
Then he nodded once — respectful, almost deferential — and slipped away again, silent as a shadow.
Ledger stood in the doorway of the war room, tablet tucked under his arm, jaw tight in a way Grim didn’t like. Ledger didn’t get rattled. Not unless something was wrong.
“Got a minute?” he asked.
Grim followed him inside. The door clicked shut behind them.
Ledger pulled up a map: county roads, traffic cams, timestamps. “I’ve been tracking Reaper movement since La Luna,” he said quietly. “They went dark.”
Grim frowned. “Dark how?”
“No bikes on the usual routes. No sightings near the mill. No chatter on the channels I monitor.” Ledger tapped the screen, zooming in on a cluster of red dots. “But three hours ago, a Reaper bike showed up here.”
A rural road. Empty. Out of the way.
“Then here.” Another dot. Closer to town.
“And here.” Right near the hospital.
Grim’s jaw flexed. “They’re scouting.”
Ledger nodded once. “And they’re not being sloppy about it. They’re avoiding cameras, sticking to blind spots. This isn’t random.”
Grim stared at the map, a cold weight settling in his gut. “They’re hunting.”
Ledger didn’t argue. “Yeah.”
Grim exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that felt like a warning. “Who?”
Ledger hesitated, just a fraction. “I don’t know yet. But it’s not us they’re circling.”
Grim’s stomach dropped.
The hospital. The ICU. Reyes. Sophia.
Ledger’s voice dropped. “Whatever they’re planning? It’s soon.”
Grim didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Ledger looked up at him, eyes sharp behind the glasses. “You feel it too.”
Grim didn’t deny it.
Grim tore his gaze from the map, jaw tight. Ledger locked the tablet and opened the war-room door. Noise spilled in immediately, laughter, clinking bottles, the low thrum of music vibrating through the floorboards.
The shift was jarring. From threat to warmth. From danger to her.
They stepped out together.
Sophia was seated at the bar with Lacey, fingers tangled in leather strips, head tipped back as she laughed. The sound hit Grim like a punch, soft, bright, alive. Too alive for the shit Ledger had just shown him.
Ledger followed Grim’s line of sight. His brows lifted. “Ah,” he murmured. “That’s what’s got you twisted.”
Grim shot him a look. “Don’t.”
Ledger didn’t listen. He never did. “You’re screwed.”
Havoc, passing by with a beer, snorted. “He’s been screwed. He’s just pretending he’s not.”
Grim growled low in his chest.
Ledger smirked, tapping the tablet against his arm. “Told you.”
Grim didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not with Sophia’s laugh softening the whole damn room. Not with the Reapers closing in. Not with the truth settling heavy in his chest.