Saving Sami

Chapter 19 Lines In The Sand



SAMI- She woke to silence.
No screaming. No snarling voices. No metal doors slamming shut.
Just the soft hum of a space heater. The faint creak of old wood. Her own breath—thin, strained, but real.
Her body was a battlefield. Every inch of her ached. Her side throbbed with each breath, and her throat was raw from a tube she didn’t remember. Her skin was clammy with sweat.
She was alive.


The realization came slow and sharp.
She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or laugh or sleep for another week.
She blinked, her vision swimming before it settled on the familiar dull ceiling. Then slowly, painfully, she turned her head.
Someone was there.
Grimm, seated in the corner of the room, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on her like he hadn’t moved in hours.
No emotion on his face. No panic. Just… presence. Solid and unshakable.


She tried to speak, but only a dry croak came out. He stood up instantly, grabbing the water bottle and bringing it to her lips.
Her fingers trembled as she held it. He didn’t comment.
She swallowed slowly. “Ace?”
“Asleep. First time in three and a half days.” His voice was quieter than usual, low and gravel-soft. “Passed out next to your bed an hour ago. Reaper made me swap in.”
A pause. His eyes scanned her face like he was checking for signs of something invisible.
“You scared the hell outta us, Red.”
Sami gave a weak smile. “Didn’t mean to.”
“You don’t gotta mean it to matter.”


She tried to sit up a little, but gasped at the tug on her side. Grimm was already beside her, one arm behind her back to ease the pressure.
“I hate this,” she whispered suddenly, eyes burning. “I hate that he touched me. That he—he knew how scared I was.”
Her voice cracked, and she turned her head away. “I feel so stupid.”
Grimm sat on the edge of the bed, quiet for a moment.
Then: “I ever tell you what happened to me the first year I patched in?”
She blinked. “What?”
“I was seventeen. Kid with a big mouth and fast fists. Thought I was bulletproof. Reaper sent me to deliver something across the border—easy run.”
He stared at the floor.


“Didn’t make it ten miles. Got jumped. Cartel message. They tied me up. Beat me bloody. Left me duct-taped in a f*cking ditch for thirty-six hours.”
Sami stared at him, stunned.
“You’re not stupid,” he said, voice even. “You’re a survivor. And no matter how scared you were… you didn’t give up.”
Her lips trembled. “I thought I was going to die.”
His hand reached out, rough and steady, and held hers.
“You didn’t.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Silent at first. Then wracking sobs that shook her whole body. She hated the sound of them, but couldn’t stop. Couldn’t hold it in anymore.


Grimm didn’t flinch. He didn’t shush her. He didn’t tell her to be strong.
He just sat with her.
Let her fall apart in peace.


And when she finally exhaled—hoarse, exhausted—he passed her a tissue and said, “Now you know what you’re made of.”
Sami wiped her face, sniffling. “What if I’m still afraid?”
“Good. That means you’re still human.”
She looked at him.
And for the first time since waking up, she didn’t feel fragile.
She felt seen.


REAPER- The storage room had been stripped bare.
Concrete floor. Single metal chair bolted down. No windows. One bulb overhead, casting long, ugly shadows. The air smelled like rust, gasoline, and sweat.


Ghost was shackled at the ankles and wrists, arms pinned behind the chair, head hanging low. Blood stained the collar of his shirt, a bruise blooming purple beneath one eye, dried blood crusting over a split lip. His knuckles were raw. One shoulder dislocated, likely from Reaper himself.
Reaper stood in front of him, arms folded, calm as ever.
This wasn’t rage anymore. This was surgical.
“You’re going to talk,” Reaper said softly. “And if you don’t, I’ll peel the truth off you in layers.”


Ghost groaned but said nothing.
Reaper took a slow breath and walked around him. Not fast. No threats. Just a predator circling its prey.
“I know the Sinaloa crew fronted the job. That part’s obvious. But they don’t move without reason. So that means someone paid them.”
Silence.


Reaper crouched beside him. “This wasn’t random. You didn’t pick the girl because she was convenient. You picked her because someone wanted her.”
Ghost smiled faintly through bloodied teeth. “What does it matter? You got her back.”


Reaper’s expression didn’t change.
“That girl’s bleeding in my house,” he said. “That girl was almost murdered in front of my prospect. And because of that, the club nearly lost two people in one blow.”
He rose to his full height.
“You think this is about feelings?”


He backhanded Ghost hard enough to snap his head sideways.
“This is about power. And someone thinking they can strip it from us.”


Ghost coughed, spit red onto the floor. “You’re soft now, Reaper. Used to be, you’d kill first and ask questions never.”


Reaper smiled cold. “Still might. But right now I want to understand which snake’s neck I’m about to cut.”
He pulled a photo from his back pocket—Sami, unconscious in Ace’s arms, taken the moment they got her back to the clubhouse.


He dropped it in Ghost’s lap.
“You tell me who sold her out.”


Ghost glanced at it. His smirk faltered just a little.
“She wasn’t the target,” he muttered finally.
Reaper stilled. “Say that again.”


“She wasn’t the target,” Ghost repeated, slower now, pain lacing his words. “Not originally.”
Reaper’s chest tightened. His voice dropped an octave. “Then who the hell was?”
Ghost didn’t answer right away. His tongue darted out, licking blood from his teeth.


“There’s a bounty,” he muttered. “Club blood. Devil’s Sons, specifically. Someone wants you dismantled.”
Reaper’s stomach went ice cold.
“Who?”


“I don’t know the name. But it came from inside. A rival—maybe someone you crossed years ago. Old s**t. Buried deep.”
He coughed again.
“They just… chose her because of Ace. Because she looked like the right lever to pull.”
Reaper didn’t move. His jaw flexed. Eyes hard as steel.


Ghost chuckled weakly. “Guess they were right.”
Reaper leaned in close, his voice pure venom.
“No, they weren’t. Because now she’s still breathing, and you’re pissing blood in my basement.”


Ghost laughed through a wince. “But she remembers me, doesn’t she?”
That was it.
Reaper didn’t speak again. He turned, flicked off the light, and left him in the dark—shackled, bleeding, and very much aware:
He was never getting out of that room alive.


Later That Night – SAMI
The room was quiet except for the rhythm of Ace’s breathing beside her.


He had one hand slung protectively across her stomach, like he needed to feel her pulse beneath his fingers. His other hand was tangled in hers, their palms sweaty, fingers bruised.
She hadn’t told him yet that she’d had another nightmare.
The kind that lingered—not screaming or thrashing, just a slow, creeping dread. Waking up with her heart racing, skin clammy, afraid to move in case it wasn’t really over.


She didn’t wake him.
She never wanted to see that haunted look in his eyes again.
So she laid still in the dark, staring at the ceiling until a soft knock sounded at the door.


Ace stirred, muscles tensing.
“Yeah?” he called quietly.
The door creaked open.
It was Reaper.
He stepped into the room like a shadow, quiet but undeniable. The scent of smoke and engine grease followed him, and under that, something darker. The weight of someone who’d been making hard decisions for far too long.


Sami tensed.
“Can we talk?” Reaper asked.
Ace shifted upright immediately, alert. “Now?”
Reaper nodded. “Now.”
Sami met his eyes and gave the smallest nod.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I want to.”


Ace didn’t move far—just slid to the edge of the bed but kept his hand on her ankle, grounding her like always.
Reaper pulled the old wooden chair from the wall and sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees, voice low.
“You look better,” he said.
She offered a weak smile. “Better than almost dead?”
“Lot better,” he said.


Silence passed between them. Heavy. Measured.
Then Reaper exhaled through his nose. “I owe you something.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The truth.”
Ace tensed beside her, but stayed quiet.
Reaper continued, slow and steady. “Ghost didn’t take you because you were in the wrong place. Or because he had a grudge against Ace.”
Sami’s mouth went dry. Her heart picked up again.
“He took you because someone wanted to hurt us. The club. There’s a bounty. On us. On him—” he glanced toward Ace, “—and on the patch as a whole.”


Sami swallowed hard. “Why me?”


Reaper didn’t flinch. “Because you were close. Because they thought you were the thread they could pull.”
“And were they right?” she asked quietly.
Reaper studied her. “Only if we let them be.”
She looked down, voice smaller. “I don’t want to be anyone’s weakness.”


“You’re not,” Reaper said simply. “You’re a target because you’re important. That’s a different thing entirely.”
Sami blinked. “So what happens now?”
Reaper leaned forward.


“Now we find out who pulled the strings. Who paid for the job. And we burn their world to the f*****g ground.”
His words weren’t loud—but the fury in them simmered just beneath the surface.


Ace slid his hand back into hers. Tight.
“And what do you want to do, Red?” he asked her softly.
She looked between the two men.


One was fire—wild, consuming.
The other was ice—controlled and lethal.
And somehow, she’d survived being caught in the middle.
Sami took a shaky breath.


“I want to know who tried to take my life like it was nothing,” she said, voice steel under water. “And I want to help you end them.”
Ace let out a slow breath, half-relieved, half-devastated.
Reaper just nodded. “Then we’ll make sure you get that chance.”
He stood, but before turning to leave, he looked at her one last time.


“You ever think you’re just some girl who wandered into something too big—don’t. You’ve got more spine than half this damn crew.”
Then he left.
The room was silent again.
Ace slid back beside her, pulling her carefully into his arms.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t shake.
She just breathed—and felt the rage settle deep in her bones.