Chapter 29
Grim
The Saints didn’t ride in like heroes. They rode in like men with nothing left to lose.
The Reapers’ compound sprawled across several old industrial buildings, warehouses, storage sheds, and whatever they used for cages. One perimeter. Multiple structures. A maze built for hiding people who weren’t meant to be found.
Engines thundered through the night, vibrating the cracked pavement of the abandoned industrial yard. The air tasted like rust and smoke, thick with the metallic tang of danger. The moon hung low, a pale, watchful eye over the violence about to unfold.
Stone rode at the front, jaw set, eyes cold.
Grim rode beside him, silent and rigid and vibrating with a rage so sharp it felt like the air around him crackled. His hands were white-knuckled on the handlebars. His breath came in short, controlled bursts. His heart hammered with one truth:
Sophia.
He could feel her fear like a phantom pain in his chest.
The idea of seeing her hurt cracked something open in him. Something he’d welded shut years ago. He didn’t just want her safe. He wanted her. All of her. And that terrified him more than any enemy ever had. He wasn’t losing her. Not now. Not ever.
They reached the perimeter.
Stone raised his fist.
The engines cut off in unison, plunging the yard into a suffocating silence. The only sound was the distant creak of rusted metal and the whisper of wind through broken windows.
Havoc scanned the shadows. “They’re here. I can smell the bastards.”
Rook cracked his neck. “They’re not walking out.”
Stone nodded once. “Move.”
The Saints advanced like shadows, silent and lethal and coordinated.
They breached the first warehouse with brutal efficiency. It was only one of several buildings on the property. They’d have to clear each one, fast, before the Reapers could move her again.
Reapers scrambled, shouting, grabbing weapons, but they were too slow.
Havoc took down the first man with a single blow, the crack echoing through the metal rafters.
Rook slammed another into a steel beam, the impact rattling the entire structure.
Fish moved like a ghost, slipping behind a Reaper and dropping him with a silent chokehold before the man even realized he wasn’t alone.
Stone fired a warning shot that ricocheted off the concrete, sending Reapers scattering like rats.
But Grim didn’t stop. He didn’t slow. He didn’t look back.
A Reaper lunged at him from the left, and Grim caught the man’s wrist mid swing, twisted hard, and drove his elbow into the man’s throat. The Reaper collapsed, choking.
Another came at him gun raised. Grim kicked a crate into his knees, sent him sprawling, then stomped once, hard, and kept moving.
“Grim!” Stone barked. “Stay with the team!”
But Grim was already gone, tearing deeper into the warehouse like a man possessed.
He ripped open doors, kicked down barriers, shoved aside crates and debris. A Reaper tried to ambush him from behind a stack of pallets, and Grim slammed him into the wall so hard the man slid down unconscious.
“SO-PHI-A!” His voice echoed through the metal corridors, raw and breaking.
Grim tore deeper into the warehouse, ripping open doors, kicking down barriers, shoving aside crates and debris. His boots pounded against the concrete, each step fueled by panic and rage.
“SO-PHI-A!”
His voice echoed through the metal corridors, raw and breaking.
No answer.
He kept going.
Rook and Havoc cleared behind him, covering angles Grim didn’t even glance at. Fish signaled from the catwalk above, two more Reapers down and the area clear.
Fish moved along the catwalk with the kind of controlled precision Grim had only ever seen in men who’d spent too many nights clearing too many rooms overseas.
He didn’t rush. Didn’t hesitate. He checked corners automatically, rifle tucked tight, eyes scanning for angles, not people — the way snipers did when they were already calculating trajectories without thinking.
He paused at the far end, body going still in that unsettling way of his. Not frozen. Just… quiet. Listening. Measuring. Remembering.
From below, Grim caught the faintest shift in Fish’s posture — the kind that meant danger long before anyone else sensed it.
Fish lifted two fingers, signaling clear, but his jaw was tight. “They moved fast,” he murmured. “Too fast. Like they knew we were coming.”
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves. It was the voice of a man who’d walked into ambushes before and survived them by inches.
Grim didn’t have time to respond — he was already moving — but the warning lodged in his spine like a cold nail.
Stone caught up to him at the far end of the complex. This was the farthest building on the compound, tucked behind rusted fencing and stacks of abandoned pallets. The kind of place you’d hide something you didn’t want found. “Grim, wait.”
But Grim had already seen it.
A smear of blood on the floor. A broken zip tie. A piece of rope. A small silver milagro charm, bent and scorched and familiar.
Sophia’s.
His heart stopped.
He went down on one knee, fingers trembling as he picked it up. His vision blurred.
“Grim,” Stone said quietly. “She was here.”
Grim’s breath came in sharp, violent bursts. “Where is she?”
Before Stone could answer, a Reaper staggered out from behind a stack of crates, coughing blood, clutching his side.
Grim was on him in a heartbeat.
He slammed the man into the wall so hard the metal dented. “Where is she?!”
The Reaper laughed, a wet, broken sound. “Too late.”
Grim drove his fist into the man’s jaw. “Where?!”
The Reaper spat blood. “Spider took her. Moved her before you even got here.”
Grim’s vision went red.
He slammed the man again. “WHERE?!”
The Reaper grinned through broken teeth. “You’ll never find her.”
Grim snapped.
He drove his knife into the man’s throat, rage shaking through him like electricity.
Stone grabbed his shoulder. “Grim—enough!”
Grim ripped free, chest heaving, eyes wild. “She’s not here. She’s not fucking here.”
Stone scanned the shadows, jaw tight. “We need to move. They could still be on-site.”
Grim stepped into the open air and bowed his head, Sophia’s charm clenched in his fist.
His voice broke.
“Sophia…”
The Saints stood around him, silent, furious, grieving.
Stone’s voice was low, deadly. “We hunt. We don’t stop. Not until we bring her home.”
Grim lifted his head, eyes burning with something feral.
“Spider dies.”