Page 12 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Nine

A fter 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?” She steadied 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.

Her gaze drifted toward the corner where her punching bag hung.

Just beside it, the few precious photos she had of her father adorned the wall, their edges slightly worn from years of quiet touch.

Slowly, she walked over and reached up, pressing her fingertips against the cool glass of one frame.

The ache in her chest unfurled, raw and familiar.

“I miss you, Dad,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Memories pressed in, wrapping around her like a second skin. His laughter, his strength, the way he used to call her “kiddo” with that proud twinkle in his eye. She took a slow, deep breath, willing the tightness in her throat to ease.

The silence stretched, heavy and all-consuming. And, of course, at that exact moment, the car outside shattered it with a sharp, impatient honk.

Victoria flinched, her hand jerking away from the frame as if burned. Reality crashed back in. The weight of his absence pressed harder, but she forced herself to turn away.

She grabbed her bag off the counter, squared her shoulders, and took one last glance around the apartment, the only place that still felt like hers. Then, without another second of hesitation, she stepped through the door, leaving behind the safety of her memories.

Victoria slipped into the sleek black car, the cool leather seats welcoming her with an unfamiliar comfort. As she settled in, the driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his eyes curious.

“Where to, miss?” His voice was deep, almost unsettling in its smoothness.

“The Crimson Veil,” Victoria replied, trying to inject as much confidence into her voice as possible. Despite her best efforts, a hint of uncertainty crept in, but the driver didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t show it.

He paused for a moment, his gaze flickering back to her in the mirror. “Have you ever been to that club?”

Victoria frowned slightly at the question. It was odd for a driver to inquire about her destination beyond just getting her there, but she answered anyway. “No, first time.”

He nodded, his expression remaining neutral. “You ever hear the rumors about that place?” His voice was casual, but there was an edge beneath it. “People don’t just go there for dancing. Word is, something else happens in the basement.”

What an odd thing to say. She shifted slightly in her seat, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than before. Victoria forced a small smile, trying to brush off the discomfort. “I’m just meeting some friends,” she replied, her tone light, but her mind raced with questions.

The driver’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he returned his focus to the road. “Just be careful, miss,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that made her heart skip a beat.

What exactly had she agreed to tonight?

The car rolled to a stop outside the club, where the sign loomed overhead, glowing in elegant crimson script.

The letters seemed to pulse with an ominous energy, casting a red hue over the throngs of people gathered outside.

The line stretched around the corner, the crowd a sea of designer dresses and sharp suits, each person looking like they belonged in a high-fashion magazine.

Victoria’s pulse quickened as she took in the scene, immediately feeling out of place in her hastily chosen outfit.

The spotlights blazed overhead, their crimson beams cutting through the night, bathing the building in an otherworldly glow. It felt like a portal to another realm, a place where the rules of reality didn’t apply.

“Here you go, miss.” The driver’s voice cut through her thoughts as he eased the car to a stop in front of the entrance. His gaze flickered to her in the rearview mirror, shadowed and unreadable. “It says you’ve paid through the app, so… have a good night. And be safe.”

Shaking off the unease curling in her stomach, Victoria took a deep breath and stepped out, the night air thick with the hum of conversation and the distant throb of the club’s bass.

She made her way to the end of the line, pulling her phone from her purse as she typed a quick message to Taylor, searching for a sense of normalcy.

Before she could hit send, her phone buzzed.

"Hello?" Victoria pressed the phone tightly to her ear, trying to drown out the noise of the crowd.

"Hey, where are you?" Taylor’s voice crackled through the line, nearly lost beneath the heavy bass thumping through the speakers. It was clear she was already inside.

Victoria glanced around, searching for something familiar to describe her location, but all she had was the reality of her situation. "Stuck in this ridiculously long line, feeling like I don’t belong here." Her eyes swept over the crowd, hoping to catch sight of anyone familiar.

"Come to the front," Taylor said, excitement threading through her voice. "I made a new friend, and he said he can get you in." Of course she did.

Victoria hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the line. She slipped through the crowd, making her way to the velvet-roped entrance where two massive, suit-clad men, their faces stoic, stood like statues with clipboards in hand.

Victoria’s heart raced as she approached, feeling the weight of their eyes on her as she drew nearer.

“Name?” One of the men asked, looking up from his clipboard briefly, his voice deep and authoritative.

“Grace Scarlett,” she replied, doing her best to keep her voice steady despite the nerves tightening in her chest.

Without hesitation, the man lifted the velvet rope, signaling her to enter.

The doors ahead were massive and imposing, their glossy black surface absorbing the dim light around them.

The bouncers, towering figures of muscle, each took hold of a door handle.

As the doors slowly swung open, the atmosphere within The Crimson Veil began to reveal itself.

As she stepped past the threshold, the heavy beat of the music hit her like a physical force, reverberating through her entire body.

It was as if the sound had its own pulse, one that shook her to her very core, even causing her hair to move slightly in response to the vibrations.

The contrast between the electric energy of the outside and the almost otherworldly ambiance of the club was stark.

Inside, the lighting was low and sultry, casting deep shadows that played across the richly adorned walls.

It was dark, moody, and exuded an intimate, almost seductive allure that felt miles away from the bustling city just beyond the doors.

Victoria swallowed hard, her eyes adjusting to the dim light as she took in her surroundings.

The space felt like another world entirely, one that wasn’t made for the faint of heart.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint, underlying trace of something darker, something almost feral.