Page 91 of Grim

“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.”