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.
A whimper. Soft. Broken. Barely there.
The sound hit him like a blast wave. For a split second, the hallway wasn’t a hallway — it was a sand-blown room overseas, dim and choking with dust, where he’d once found a civilian girl curled behind a broken cot, making that same small, broken sound.
Same fear. Same silence. Same too-late feeling clawing up his throat.
His vision tunneled. His pulse spiked. His body moved before thought could catch up.
His breath caught. His chest tightened. His vision blurred at the edges.
“Sophia…” he whispered, the name cracking in his throat.
He moved faster.
Down a hallway lined with rusted pipes that dripped water in slow, rhythmic taps. Past a room filled with broken crates and stained mattresses. Through a corridor that smelled like fear, sharp, acidic, unmistakable.
The sound came again.
A small, choked sob.
Grim’s heart stopped.
Then he ran.
A Reaper stepped into the hallway, blocking the final door.
Grim didn’t hesitate.
He grabbed the man by the vest and slammed him into the wall so hard the drywall cracked. The Reaper slid down, unconscious before he hit the floor.
Grim didn’t look at him.
He was already at the door.
His hand shook as he reached for the handle.
Stone’s voice was behind him, low and steady. “Grim—”
But Grim was already moving.
He slammed his shoulder into the door.
It ripped off its hinges, metal screeching as it crashed to the floor.
And there she was.
Caged, bruised, terrified, curled in on herself like she was trying to disappear.
Her hair hung in tangled waves, matted with sweat and dust. Her cheek was swollen, a dark bruise blooming across her skin. Her wrists were raw, angry red marks from restraints. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them like she was holding herself together.
Her breathing was shallow, too fast and too light, the kind that came from panic and exhaustion and pain.
Her eyes — God, her eyes — were wide and glassy with fear, pupils blown wide, darting around the room like she expected another blow.
She looked up at the sound of the door crashing open.
Her breath hitched.
“Maddox…”
Grim fell apart.
He dropped to his knees in front of the cage, hands shaking so violently he could barely grip the bars. His breath came in ragged gasps. His vision blurred.
“Sophia…” His voice cracked, breaking open like a wound. “Baby—God—Sophia—”
She crawled toward him, fingers trembling as she reached through the bars.
He grabbed her hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her skin was ice cold. Too cold.
Stone stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling, eyes burning, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He knew this moment wasn’t his.
Grim pressed his forehead to the bars, breath shaking. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m so damn sorry. I should’ve— I wasn’t—”
Sophia touched his face, her thumb brushing the dirt and blood on his cheek.
“Maddox,” she whispered, voice trembling but sure. “You came.”
He broke. Completely.
A sound tore out of him, half sob and half growl, as he wrapped both hands around hers, pulling her as close as the cage would allow.
“I’ll never let them touch you again,” he choked. “Never. I swear it.”
Stone stepped forward, voice low. “Grim. Move.”
Grim didn’t let go of her hand as Stone cut the lock with bolt cutters. The door swung open with a metallic groan.
Grim was inside before it fully opened.
He gathered Sophia into his arms, lifting her gently, carefully, like she was made of something sacred. She clung to him instantly, burying her face in his neck, shaking. She weighed almost nothing. Fear hollowed her out.
Her breath hitched against his throat, a broken, desperate sound that carved him open.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
Sophia’s fingers curled into his cut, gripping him like she was afraid he’d disappear.
She pressed her lips to his throat — a trembling, desperate touch — and whispered a Spanish prayer against his skin.
“Dios mío… gracias… por traerlo a mí…”
Grim closed his eyes, holding her tighter, the words sinking into him like salvation.
He carried her out of the cage room, out of the warehouse, out of hell, holding her against his chest like she was the only thing that mattered.
Because she was.
Stone covered their exit, Havoc and Rook clearing the path, the Saints forming a protective wall around them as they moved through the yard.
Sophia trembled in Grim’s arms, whispering broken prayers against his throat.
And Grim clung to every word like they were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.