Page 64 of Grim

His jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscle ticking. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts.

She reached over and touched his arm.

He flinched, not away from her but like the touch hit something deep.

“Hey,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

He shook his head, eyes locked on the road. “You’re not. You were almost—” His voice broke. “I can’t even say it.”

Sophia slid closer, cupping his face with one hand, her thumb brushing the tension from his jaw. “Maddox… I’m here.”

He leaned into her touch for half a second, just long enough for her to feel the tremor running through him, before he forced his eyes back to the road.

“I almost lost you,” he whispered, voice raw. “Sophia, I— I can’t—”

She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, her hand still on his cheek. “You didn’t lose me.”

His breath shuddered out, uneven and ragged. One hand stayed on the wheel, but the other slid across the console, gripping her thigh like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.

And for the rest of the drive, they stayed like that, her leaning into him and his hand holding on like he’d drown without her, two people breathing through fear and adrenaline and the terrifying relief of still being alive.

Chapter 20

Sophia

Grim pulled into the clubhouse lot fast enough that gravel spit out behind the tires. He was out of the car before the engine fully stopped, rounding to Sophia’s side like he expected another attack to come out of the shadows.

Sophia stepped out on unsteady legs, and Grim’s hand immediately found the small of her back, steady and warm and protective.

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.

He didn’t drag her or carry her. He stayed glued to her side, his body angled like a shield as he scanned the lot.

Switchblade and Ghost were closest to the door. They straightened instantly, eyes widening as they took in Sophia’s pale face and Grim’s lethal expression.

“Everything alright?” Ghost asked, voice low.

“No,” Grim said, and the single word made both prospects tense like coiled wire.

Switchblade’s jaw clenched. “Who do we need to bury?”

Grim didn’t answer. He just pushed open the door.

They walked into the clubhouse together.

The moment the door opened, the room froze.

Music cut off mid-beat. Cards were dropped. Conversations died. Every Saint in the room turned toward them.

Rook was the first to stand, slow and controlled, eyes narrowing as he took in Sophia’s pale face and Grim’s lethal expression. Fish shifted forward too, silent and shadowed, reading the threat level in a single glance. Lacey’s smile was gone, replaced with something sharp and protective.

Behind them, the prospects fanned out instinctively, Switchblade, Ghost, Brick, and Vandal forming a loose wall near the entrance, ready to move if Grim so much as twitched.

Brick wasn’t posturing like he had at his welcome-back party. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room, the exits, the windows — not frantically, but methodically. Controlled.

He stepped half a pace forward, subtly putting himself between Sophia and the door. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It was instinct — protective and precise.

Sophia hadn’t expected that from him. Not from the kid who joked too much and talked too loud.