Page 123 of Shattered By Grace

Sparring. That’s what she needed. It was Friday, he should be at the gym.

Victoria grabbed the bag and slung it over her shoulder. If she couldn’t fight beside Tristan, then she needed to remind herself how to fight for him.

Pulling out her phone, she shot Tony a text.

Victoria

You at the gym?

Three dots appeared instantly.

Tony

Yeah. Thought you died. You coming?

She exhaled, gripping the strap of her bag tighter.

Victoria

Be there in fifteen.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

She grabbed her keys, slipped on her shoes, and was out the door.

“Who’s this stranger?” Casey called from behind the counter as Victoria stepped into the gym.

The sights, the sounds, the familiar smell of sweat and determination was a sharp contrast to the chaos in her mind. Instantly, her anxiety started to ease.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Casey,” she said with a small smile, walking past her without slowing down, heading straight for the locker room.

Inside, she quickly threw her hair up into a messy bun, the familiar motions of getting ready to fight grounding her. She wrapped her hands tightly, the pressure of the cloth a small comfort.

Once she was done, she walked back out of the locker room and toward the center of the sparring mat. The weight of her gloves settled over her hands, the leather smooth and firm as she slid each one into place. Ready.

“Oh shit, she returns.” Tony stepped onto the mat, grinning. “You’ve been slacking.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here now.” Victoria rolled her very tense shoulder, stretching it out.

Tony laughed and raised his hands in mock surrender. “White flag.” He grabbed his gear and headed off to put it on. “Start warming up.”

Victoria squared her stance on the mat, the coolness of the floor grounding her as she stretched her arms. Her body knew the motions, but her mind was still elsewhere, heavy with worry. Tristan. His absence hung in the air like a shadow.

The gym was quiet, save for the hum of the overhead lights and the distant sound of someone pounding a heavy bag. Tony, caught sight of her across the room and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re looking a little tense tonight,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. He walked over, his eyes sharp as they scanned her. “What’s going on?”

Victoria barely spared him a glance. “Just need to hit something,” she said, her voice tight.

Tony didn’t push, but he turned to grab a pair of pads from the wall, tossing one at her. “Alright, let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with those drills.”

She didn’t hesitate. She caught the pad and snapped into position, her body instantly falling into rhythm.

The first few jabs were mechanical, routine. Her muscles were on autopilot. But with every punch, her mind kept drifting back to Tristan, to the weight of the conversation earlier and the worry gnawing at her. It was there, always lurking in the back of her mind, but she pushed it down with every strike.

Tony called for more aggressive movements. Victoria followed without question, her fists landing on the pad in quick succession. Punches, hooks, uppercuts—her body didn’t even think, it just reacted. The rhythm of her strikes, the beat of her own breath, and Tony’s encouraging voice were the only things in the world right now.

“Good! That’s it! Now, mix it up,” Tony called, his voice sharp.

---