Page 26 of Shattered By Grace

Victoria’s heart raced, her eyes darting to the flashing lights, trying to spot a familiar face, anything that could anchor her in this whirlwind of anxiety. But all she saw was Justin, standing just on the edge of her line of sight, and the weight of recognition looming closer with every passing second.

Victoria rubbed her forehead, trying to clear the sudden fog of confusion and fear. Seeing her childhood friend with the Lockes, the very family that ruined hers, sent her mind spiraling. “I… I need to find Taylor,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

“Mr. Locke.” Justin’s unfamiliar voice cut through again.

Tristan’s expression darkened, ignoring the summons again, his grip firm but not forceful. “Why not?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous. “You seemed pretty into it a minute ago.”

“It’s complicated, Tristan.” She rubbed her forehead as a tension headache threatened to take hold.

His smirk was slow and knowing. Leaning in, his lips brushed her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Complicated?” he purred, his voice laced with dark amusement. “That’s a nice way to put it. But let’s be honest, Grace—complicated’s just another word for tempting.”

He pulled her even closer, the heat of his body seeping into hers, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of control. His predatory gaze burned into hers. “You can fight it all you want,” he murmured, “but we both know how this ends. The question is, when are you finally giving in?”

He slammed his mouth on hers, capturing her lips without hesitation. The kiss was nothing like she could have prepared for. His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against hers with an exquisite slowness that unraveled every defense she had. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a possession, full, lush, and all-consuming. He tasted like every wicked temptation she’d ever craved but knew she shouldn’t indulge in. Dark, addictive, and oh so dangerous.

Her mind screamed for control, her instincts warring against the pull he had over her.Victoria!she screamed at herself internally, breaking the spell. With a gasp, she pulled back, her chest heaving. “I… I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as reality came crashing back in.

Now, he knew. She knew he understood. He had her.

Chapter Eleven

Victoria paced frantically around the club, eyes darting through the crowd as shadows and strobe lights made every face blur. Her pulse thundered. No sign of Taylor. Anxiety gnawed at her, twisting in her gut as she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text.

Victoria

HEY, WHERE ARE YOU?

She waited, staring at the screen for what felt like forever, but no response came. Panic coiled tight in her chest, and she pushed through the crowd, her movements becoming more frantic. The bass thudded in her chest, each beat matching the growing unease in her chest.

“Are you okay?”

She spun, breath hitching, to find Tyson watching her. Unlike Tristan’s smoldering intensity, his gaze was razor-sharp yet assessing, like he saw straight through her.

“Shit!” Victoria clutched her chest, pulse hammering. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You Lockes are everywhere.

HIs voice was deeper than she remembered. Smooth, laced with a quiet dominance. It wasn’t just the sound of it, it was the way it curled around her, sinking beneath her skin.

Without a word, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over her skin, a deliberate, measured move. Then, just as smoothly, he stepped past her, claiming a seat in the corner, his presence a quiet, undeniable force.

His gaze never strayed, a silent challenge lingering in his expression, waiting to see what she’d do next.

“I—I’m looking for my friend. You met her earlier, Taylor. Have you seen her?” The words tumbled out in a rush as her eyes darted over his face. Something was off.

She stepped closer, her breath hitching as she noticed the small cut above his eyebrow and the faint shadow of swelling beneath his eye, a bruise forming. Her gaze dropped lower.

That’s when she saw it.

“Is that… is that blood?” Her voice wavered between curiosity and alarm.

Oh shit, he was fighting tonight. Is this where fights are hosted?

Tyson didn’t so much as blink. “It’s not mine.” His tone was smooth, devoid of concern, as if the blood staining his hands was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Victoria hesitated. The sheer detachment in his voice sent a ripple of unease through her. “Is that supposed to reassure me?”

His lips barely curved, a ghost of amusement, but not quite a smile. “Would you rather I lie?”

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