Chapter 24
Sophia
The Saints had been gone less than fifteen minutes.
The clubhouse felt wrong without them, too still and too hollow, like the air itself was holding its breath. Sophia sat on the edge of Grim’s bed, twisting her fingers together, listening to the faint hum of the vents and the low murmur of the prospects talking in the hallway.
She kept replaying Grim’s last look, the way he’d touched her cheek, the way his voice had cracked when he promised he’d be back. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, the ghost of his kiss lingering on her lips.
A deep, metallic boom shook the building.
Sophia jerked upright, heart slamming into her throat.
Another crash, louder and closer, rattled the windows. The lights flickered. Dust drifted from the ceiling like falling ash.
Then came the shouting.
“Reapers! Reapers at the front!”
Gunfire erupted — sharp, violent, too close. The sound punched through her chest like a physical blow.
Her body went rigid. Her hands went numb.
Brick’s voice thundered down the hall. “Get the women to the safe room! Move!”
Ledger sprinted past her door, grabbing two terrified women who’d been staying in the guest rooms. “Come on! Downstairs! Now!”
Vandal appeared behind him, coughing through the smoke. “Gate’s gone, they blew straight through it. Switchblade’s trying to hold the front.”
Sophia ran toward them, but the hallway filled with smoke, thick and choking. The emergency lights kicked on, bathing everything in a pulsing red glow that made the world feel unreal, like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
“Sophia!” Ledger shouted, coughing. “Stay with us!”
Another explosion rocked the building, throwing her off balance. A section of the ceiling collapsed between them, blocking her path with a wall of debris and fire.
“Sophia!” Ledger’s voice was muffled, panicked. “Get back! Go the other way!”
She stumbled backward, coughing, eyes burning, lungs screaming for clean air.
The Reapers were inside.
Boots thundered. Men shouted. Glass shattered. Something heavy slammed against a wall hard enough to crack it. The floor vibrated under her feet. The air tasted like smoke and metal.
Sophia turned to run and slammed straight into Switchblade.
He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. “I’ve got you. Stay behind me.”
His voice was steady, but his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide and adrenaline pumping hard.
A loud crash echoed down the hallway — a door being kicked in. Someone screamed. A prospect shouted for backup. The fire alarm shrieked overhead, adding a piercing, disorienting wail to the chaos.
Switchblade pulled her with him, moving fast, weaving through smoke-filled hallways as the clubhouse shook around them. Reapers were everywhere, shadows moving through the haze, shouting orders, kicking down doors, firing shots into the ceiling to scatter the prospects.
Sophia’s ears rang. Her vision blurred. Her heartbeat thundered so loudly she could barely hear anything else.
Switchblade shoved Sophia behind him as three Reapers rounded the corner.
“Found her,” one snarled.
Switchblade didn’t hesitate. He charged.
He hit the first Reaper like a battering ram, slamming him into the wall so hard the drywall cracked. The second swung a pipe, and Switchblade blocked it with his forearm and drove his elbow into the man’s throat, dropping him instantly.
Sophia pressed herself against the wall, heart pounding, watching the chaos unfold in slow motion. Her ears rang. Her hands shook uncontrollably. She grabbed a broken piece of wood from the floor, ready to swing, but Switchblade threw out an arm, blocking her without even looking back.
The third Reaper raised a gun, a tattoo of a spiderweb crawling up his raised hand.
“Switchblade!” she screamed.
He turned.
The gunshot cracked through the hallway like the world splitting open.
Switchblade jerked, blood blooming across his chest like a spreading flower. He staggered, eyes wide with shock, then collapsed to his knees. He dropped hard, the impact shaking the floor beneath her — faster than she could process, faster than she could breathe.
“No, no, no.” Sophia dropped beside him, hands shaking as she tried to press against the wound. “Stay with me, please.”
Switchblade grabbed her wrist, blood on his lips. “I said I’d keep you safe.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Go. Please.”
Her breath broke. “Switchblade.”
“Run,” he rasped. “Run, Sophia.”
Rough hands grabbed her from behind, a fist tangling in her hair and yanking her backward so hard she screamed, kicking and clawing and fighting with everything she had.
“Let me go! Let me—!”
A cloth bag was yanked over her head. Her wrists were tied. She was lifted off the ground, thrown over someone’s shoulder like she weighed nothing.
Switchblade’s body hit the floor with a sickening thud. She didn’t see him fall — only heard the thud behind her as she was dragged away.
Sophia screamed his name until her throat tore.
The Reapers carried her out the back, through the smoke, through the chaos, into the night.
And the clubhouse burned behind them.