Page 21 of Grim

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes,” he said, voice low and final. “I will.”

A shiver ran through her, sharp and unwelcome, not fear but the sudden realization that he’d shifted the ground under her feet without even touching her.

She stared at him, frustration and something warmer twisting in her chest. “Fine. But if you get me fired, we’re gonna have problems.”

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression eased, just a fraction, a crack in the armor.

She got into her car, hands trembling more than she wanted to admit. The door thunked shut, muffling the sound of her own heartbeat.

He walked to his bike, every movement controlled, deliberate, dangerous, like a man built to move through shadows.

And she hated how safe that made her feel.

Chapter 6

Sophia

Sophia’s little rental house sat at the edge of a quiet neighborhood, the kind with cracked sidewalks and overgrown azalea bushes that bloomed too early every spring. The sun was barely up, the sky washed in pale pink and soft gold as she pulled into her driveway.

She killed the engine, exhaled, and let her forehead rest against the steering wheel for a moment.

She was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-heavy exhausted. Being the responsible one meant she never stopped. Not at work. Not at home. Not even now, with a man like him shadowing her steps.

She didn’t have to look to know Grim’s bike rolled to a stop behind her car, engine rumbling low before cutting off. She didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t wave. Didn’t speak.

She just got out of her car, walked to her front door, and unlocked it like a woman determined to pretend a six-foot-four wall of muscle wasn’t shadowing her every move.

Inside, she dropped her bag on the entryway table and kicked off her shoes.

Sophia dug her phone out of her scrub pocket, meaning to silence it for a few hours of desperately needed sleep. The screen lit up with a string of notifications she’d ignored during the chaos.

Three missed calls. Two texts. All from her family.

Her mother: Can you come by today? I need help with something important.

Miguel: Soph, call me when you get a second. Mom’s seriously stressing too much. You gotta talk to her.

Sophia closed her eyes, guilt tightening low in her stomach. Of course they needed her. They always did.

She loved them — fiercely, endlessly — but some days it felt like she was the only one holding the whole damn world together. At work. At home. Everywhere.

She typed out a reply. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

She didn’t have the energy to be needed again. Not after a night like this. Not when her hands were still trembling and her bones felt hollow.

Her thumb hovered over the call button, the familiar pull of responsibility tugging at her ribs. She should answer. She always answered. But the thought of walking into another problem, another request, another emotional fire to put out…

She couldn’t. Not right now.

Sophia locked her phone and set it face-down on the table, swallowing the guilt like she’d been doing her whole life.

She’d deal with it later. She always did.

The house was quiet, dim, familiar. She let her hair down, shaking it out, fingers combing through the tangles from a twelve-hour shift.

Her shoulders loosened. Her breath steadied. For a moment, she let herself relax.