Page 18 of Grim

Sophia snorted. “Is there any other kind?”

Amanda grinned. “Fair point. You heading out?”

“Yeah. You good with Reyes?”

Amanda nodded. “Switchblade is around somewhere.”

Sophia blinked. “Switchblade?”

Amanda shrugged. “Tall, quiet guy. Looks like he could break a man in half but says ‘excuse me’ when he bumps into a chair.”

Sophia laughed. “That’s oddly specific.”

“He’s been hanging around the ICU this morning. I think he’s security or something.”

Sophia frowned. “Hospital security doesn’t look like that.”

“Exactly,” Amanda said, sipping her coffee. “He’s a Bloodline Saint. Which is why I’m not asking questions.”

“Bloodline Saint?” she asked.

“You know, the MC. They’re local, watch out for people. They’re good guys overall. I heard some of their team took a hard hit last night with the La Luna incident,” Amanda said, setting her coffee down on the nurse’s desk.

Sophia shook her head. “Gotcha. Well, I’m heading out.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator.

Sophia had spent her whole life relying on herself. Depending on strangers, especially men built like walking danger, wasn’t in her vocabulary.

She didn’t notice the man leaning against the far wall. But he noticed her.

Someone shifted in the periphery as the elevator doors slid shut, a shadow peeling away from the concrete pillar. She didn’t see his face, just the shape of him, broad shoulders, stillness that didn’t belong in a hospital hallway, a presence that settled heavy in the room.

She stepped into the elevator, rubbing her neck, too tired to think about anything except getting home. The doors closed.

Sophia sagged back against the wall, the weight of the night settling in her bones. Her shoulders ached, her eyes burned, and now that she’d stopped moving, her hands had a faint tremor she hadn’t noticed before. The quiet felt wrong after hours of alarms and shouting. Too empty. Too still. Her thoughts slipped in the silence, drifting back to him when she didn’t want them to.

Silence was dangerous. Silence meant her mind had room to wander, to want things she had no business wanting.

When she reached the parking garage, the early morning light filtered through the concrete slats in long, pale stripes. The place was nearly empty, a few cars, a few echoes, nothing else.

She crossed toward her Honda, keys jingling in her hand.

Halfway there, something prickled at the back of her neck.

She stopped. Turned. The garage looked the same, quiet, still, empty, but the feeling didn’t go away. Her fingers tightened around her keys, metal edges biting into her palm.

She’d walked alone after too many shifts to ignore that instinct. She trusted her instincts. They’d saved patients, saved coworkers, saved her more than once. Fear didn’t rule her. Awareness did.

“Hello?” she called out.

A soft scrape echoed somewhere behind her, too light to pinpoint, too out of place to ignore. The hairs on her arms lifted. The garage felt colder suddenly, the shadows deeper.

A cold jolt ran through her, the instinctive fear that didn’t come from imagination but from experience, from too many nights walking to her car alone after shifts like this.

She took a step back, scanning the shadows between the pillars. Nothing moved. But the instinct didn’t fade.

“If someone’s out there, this isn’t funny,” she said, louder this time.

Still nothing.