Page 21 of Shattered By Grace

Tristan didn’t immediately release her hand. Instead, he held it for a beat longer, his gaze drilling into hers. She could feel his eyes scanning her face, reading every flicker of emotion she couldn’t quite hide. Her breath caught in her throat, and she swore she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, as if he enjoyed the power he held over her.

Finally, he let go, but not before brushing his thumb lightly across her knuckles, a subtle yet lingering touch that sent a fresh wave of unease coursing through her. The contact left a ghostly heat on her skin, a reminder of the control he’d just asserted.

“Mr. Locke, we need to go,” Razer said.

The voice. That voice.

Victoria’s stomach plummeted, a cold, sharp dread slicing through her chest. That voice—deep, dark, and laced with the same cruel edge—wrapped around her like barbed wire. It was the voice that had haunted her for years, echoing through nightmares she never spoke of, tethered to memories she’d spent a decade trying to bury.

A tremor started in her fingers, crawling up her arms until she clenched her fists so tightly, her nails bit into her palms. She forced herself to breathe, to keep her expression controlled, even as the weight of Razer’s presence made her skin crawl.

Leave now. I don’t care why they’re here, you need to walk away. Now!

Without a word, Victoria turned and pushed open the heavy stairwell door. Cool, sterile air rushed over her like a slap of reality. She clung to it, grounding herself in the sharp contrast between suffocation and escape.

“Sir, the board is waiting.” Razer’s voice rippled through the door. Footsteps echoed off the concrete as they began walkingaway. Her mind was spinning, untethered and terrified, as if the past had nearly caught up to her.

“Umm… everything okay, Grace?” Taylor’s voice, tinged with both amazement and fear, pulled her back.

“Victoria exhaled slowly, her mask slipping effortlessly back into place. “Yeah,” she said, forcing a smirk. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Taylor’s gaze flicked downward. “Because your hands are shaking.”

Well, Taylor, that big-ass man next to Tristan? I stabbed him when I was fifteen trying to escape. He and his men were ordered to kill my father and drag me off to God-knows-where. Now I’m standing here, hidden behind a new name, praying he doesn’t recognize me, because if he does, I’m dead.

She let out a quiet, humorless laugh, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. She couldn’t even tell her best friend half of her life.

“Why do I let him get under my skin like that?” she muttered, more to herself than Taylor, her fingers trailing along the metal railing as if searching for an anchor.

Taylor grinned, quick with her response. "Because he's got that whole ‘arrogant bad boy who thinks he's irresistible’ thing going on. And deep down, you love a challenge."

Chapter Nine

After a long shower, Victoria tried to scrub away the tension coiled in her muscles, but the stress of seeing Razer again clung to her like a second skin.

She ran a towel over her damp hair, sighing. “I need to call Adams again.” Her voice was quiet, but the unease sat heavy in her chest. “It’s been weeks. He wouldn’t just go dark.”

Across the room, Clawdia stretched lazily on the bed, her large, knowing eyes watching as Victoria frowned at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

“This dress is really short,” she muttered, twisting to check the back. The black body-con hugged every inch of her, the smooth fabric clinging to her curves like a whispered temptation. The hem flirted dangerously high against her thighs, leaving just enough to the imagination, but barely. She tugged at it uselessly, as if she could make it grow an extra inch.

Victoria moved to the side of her bed, slipping on a pair of black strappy heels with thin, delicate straps wrapping around her ankles. The moment she stood, she wobbled slightly, cursing under her breath. “Why the hell did I pick these shoes?” Shesteadied herself, inhaling sharply before making her way back to the mirror, each step uncertain but determined.

She studied her reflection, her gaze flicking over every detail with increasing scrutiny. She took in the soft, loose curls cascading just past her shoulders. They were perfect, glossy and effortless, but still, something felt… off.

Clawdia blinked at her from the bed, unimpressed by the meltdown.

Victoria exhaled, running her hands down the sides of her dress one last time. Maybe the problem wasn’t the dress. Maybe it was everything else.

Victoria took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. “Okay, Victoria,” she said to herself, using the nickname as a small act of self-encouragement as she did the final touch-ups to her makeup. “You’ve got this. Just one night. You can handle it.”

Her phone buzzed with a notification, announcing that the driver was on the way. She let out a groan, her longing for the gym winning out over her anticipation for the evening.

“I’ll see you later girl,” she murmured, patting the cat’s head as she passed.

Each step felt heavier than the last as she crossed the room, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. The quiet rhythm was almost hypnotic, a steady beat against the restless churn in her chest. She set her bag and phone on the counter, her fingers lingering for a moment. Stalling. Waiting. Searching for a reason to stay.

The soft glow from the streetlight seeped through the window, casting a warm haze over the apartment. Her reflection wavered in the glass, a ghost of herself staring back.

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