Page 35 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

H er mind lingered on Tristan, body still tingling from their unforgettable goodbye kiss.

At four thirty a.m., Victoria arrived at the hospital, dawn barely breaking.

The night shift was winding down, but a strange tension hung in the air.

She pushed through the sliding doors, trying to shake off the haze from Tristan.

The sharp scent of antiseptic grounded her, but as she neared the elevators, her steps slowed.

A group of men stood by the waiting area, their presence impossible to ignore, even in the dull, grayish hospital light. They looked like they’d been carved out of stone. Tall, built, and menacing, each one wearing the same uniform of black shirts stretched over thick muscles.

It wasn’t just their size that made them intimidating. It was the tattoos.

Dark ink wrapped around their forearms and biceps, the mark of the Locke family’s enforcers. A black serpent, coiled around a dagger, its fangs bared, ready to strike. The dagger’s hilt bore an engraved “L”, a not-so-subtle, unmistakable sign of loyalty.

But it was the tally marks beside the dagger that made her pulse jump. Several of them were marked with two tallies.

Her stomach tightened. What are they doing here?

A deep voice cut through the low hum of beeping monitors and distant murmurs.

“Did you see Tyson last night? Man’s a beast. He’s gonna make it big at the Reaping.”

“Heard he won ten million,” another added, his voice softer but no less sharp. He was shorter, but his presence was just as unnerving, the serpent tattoo crawling up his neck like a living thing.

Her stomach churned. Tyson…

She knew both he and Tristan were set to fight, to elevate their family’s standing in that brutal, twisted arena. But hearing it confirmed by these men with their easy confidence, the casual way they spoke of it like a sport instead of a blood-soaked battleground, made her feel sick.

Then, a different voice, lower, almost a whisper: “Boss ain’t happy about this.”

“Should’ve finished the job.”

Her pulse stuttered. What?

She felt her breath hitch, her spine stiffening as cold fear slithered through her. Were they talking about Tyson? Or… someone else?

So lost in thought, she almost walked straight into the broad, immovable back of one of the men. He was a towering presence, the sheer size of him making her feel small andvulnerable. The scent of leather and smoke clung to him, and just standing this close sent a prickle of unease down her spine.

Her gaze flickered to the tattoo on his forearm. The serpent’s fangs sank into the dagger’s hilt, blood dripping from the bite. But what made her breath catch was the four tally marks slashed beside it.

Not just leadership. A high-ranking. A man who had taken lives for the Locke family and would do it again without pause.

Keeping her tone steady, she forced out, “Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to get on the elevator.”

The conversation died instantly. One by one, they turned. Their gazes pinned her in place, heavy and assessing, like they were trying to decide whether she was a threat or something else entirely.

Oh fuck.

Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs, but she didn’t waver.

Never show weakness. After a tense beat, one of them stepped aside, and the others followed, parting just enough to let her through.

She kept her pace even, her chin lifted, but the second the elevator doors slid shut behind her, she exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against the cool metal wall.

Why are they here?

Are they watching me?

Or worse…is this about Tyson ?

She already knew what the Reaping was. Its true face, the deals made in the shadows, the power plays that decided who lived and who disappeared.

And now, she had a sinking feeling she was right in the middle of it.

As she stepped off the elevator onto the Labor and Delivery floor, she noticed the nurses’ station was empty. Perfect.

Her pulse quickened as she slid behind the desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard. One search. One name. If Tyson was here, if he was hurt, she had to know.

Her mind raced ahead of her logic. What if he was in critical condition? What if he wasn’t? What if Tristan already knew and chose not to tell her?

A bitter thought surfaced, sharp and unwelcome. Why do I even care?

The knot in her stomach twisted, almost painful. She could still feel the ghost of Tristan’s hands on her skin, the possessive intensity in his gaze. But it was Tyson’s name her fingers itched to type, Tyson’s fate that made her pulse hammer in her ears.

Get it together, Victoria. She clenched her jaw, forcing her focus back to the screen.

The elevator chimed, her heart lurching as the doors slid open. She straightened, swallowing the storm rising in her chest.

Dude chill, you are Nurse Scarlett, you're not doing anything wrong.

The on-call nurse barely glanced up as she handed off a patient report, a young woman in early labor with high blood pressure and signs of preeclampsia. Victoria nodded, absorbing the details, but her mind was already elsewhere.

The second the nurse turned away, she stepped out of sight, her fingers flying over the hospital’s database. Tyson Locke.

The result blinked onto the screen almost instantly:

Tyson Locke. Admitted: 3:47 a.m.

Status: Under observation.

She let out a long breath. No listed injuries. No details. Just a vague, clinical note.

She hesitated, glancing toward her phone. Instinct told her to text Tristan.

Then reality smacked her. She didn’t even have his number.

I need to put his number in my phone.

Before she could fully process that thought— a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders. Victoria jerked so hard she nearly took the monitor down with her.

A loud laugh rang in her ear. “Jesus, you’re jumpy as hell.”

Taylor.

Victoria turned, heart still hammering. Her best friend stood there, arms crossed, grinning like she hadn’t just shaved ten years off her life.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Victoria hissed, shoving Taylor’s arm.

Taylor smirked. “Good thing I’m a nurse.” Her gaze flicked to the screen before Victoria could block it. “What are we snooping for?”

Victoria snapped out of her shock, hastily clicking out of the file. “I wasn’t snooping. I was… checking something.”

Taylor’s eyes narrowed, her teasing fading into something more serious. “You’re a terrible liar. And if you’re looking up a patient like you’re hacking into the CIA, I’m guessing this is about one of them.”

Victoria swallowed. She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Taylor’s expression hardened, her voice lowering. “Grace, what the hell are you getting yourself into?”

Victoria exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s complicated.”

Taylor scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding. And if you’re breaking rules to check on him, I’m guessing it’s more than just complicated. Grace, talk to me.”

Victoria hesitated, her chest tightening. How could she explain when she didn’t even understand it herself?

“Soon. Promise, but right now I have to go check on a patient.” Victoria had a tight smile on her face as she walked around Taylor, “Plus you have a job to do, go be the rockstar nurse.”

Taylor narrowed her eyes, clearly unsatisfied, but she let out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m letting this go.”

Victoria flashed a quick grin over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Taylor muttered something under her breath before calling after her. “And I’m the best badass rockstar nurse, thank you very much.”

Victoria chuckled, but as she rounded the corner, her smile faded. Her pulse quickened, urgency setting in as she made her way down the hallway.

Taylor was off her back, but there was still one thing left to do before she could find Tyson.

Victoria pushed aside the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind and stepped into the room, her smile steady.

“Hi Sarah, I’m Grace, your midwife. Let’s see what’s going on.”

The woman needed her full attention, and Victoria wouldn’t let her down. She reassured her, monitored her vitals, and stayed until the patient was stable.

Victoria gave the patient one last reassuring smile before slipping out of the room. Pausing just outside the door, she caught the attention of a newer nurse at the station.

“Page me if she has any changes,” she said, her voice steady.

The nurse nodded, and with that, Victoria turned on her heel, her mind already elsewhere.

She checked her phone out of habit, still nothing. Not that she expected a message from Tristan. She didn’t even have his number.

Jaw tightening, heart pounding, she headed for the second floor. As she neared Tyson’s room, she hesitated for a second. Then, squaring her shoulders, she pushed forward.

Victoria stepped toward the corner, then froze.

Justin stood just feet away, deep in conversation with Cassian Locke. Tyson and Tristan’s father.

Her pulse stopped.

She flattened herself against the wall, the cold seeping through her scrubs.

She had known Justin was working with him, but she had convinced herself that he was different.

That he was playing both sides, keeping Cassian close while secretly finishing what her father started. That he was on her side.

God, how stupid am I?

“Mr. Locke, I promise I’m close to getting the answers you seek,” Justin said, his voice steady but edged with nerves. “I know she works here.”

Her stomach dropped.

He’s talking about me.

A sharp, icy feeling spiked through her veins.

Justin said something else, but the rush of her heartbeat in her ears muffled the sound.

“Background checks.”

She peeked around the corner, breath locked in her chest.

“Tyson is fine,” Justin continued, sounding almost eager now, like a loyal little soldier. “After the match, he had a cut above his eye. They’re just keeping him for a possible concussion.”

Cassian gave a slow, measured nod. His dark, calculating gaze bore into Justin, assessing him like a piece on a chessboard.

He loomed over him, his presence suffocating, his expression unreadable but dangerous.

Unshakable. The fluorescent hospital lighting did nothing to soften him.

If anything, it made him look even more like a demon wearing a man’s face.

“You’d better be right, Justin,” Cassian murmured, his voice low, gravelly and lethal. “I don’t like waiting. And I don’t tolerate failure.”

The words settled over her like a slow-moving noose.

Justin wasn’t playing both sides.

He wasn’t trying to help her. He had been lying to her face. The entire time. A bitter, ugly feeling rose in her throat.

God, I was an idiot.

She had trusted him. Confided in him. Let him make her think they were in this together, that he was some kind of ally.

All those conversations…All those lies.

Justin sold me out.

She felt sick.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she backed away, every instinct screaming at her to run.

Cassian’s head snapped up, his piercing eyes swept the hallway.

Victoria froze, pressing herself flat against the wall.

Don’t see me. Don’t see me.

She slowly peeked around the corner again to check to see if it was safe to move. Seconds dragged like a blade across her skin until he turned back to Justin.

Her legs carried her before her mind could catch up, her footsteps light and silent as she made a beeline for the stairwell.

By the time she reached the labor and delivery floor, her hands were shaking. Her stomach churned, the sting of betrayal sinking deeper with every breath. She ripped out her phone, fingers trembling as she typed.

Dude, what the hell is going on? Are you selling me out for your own personal gain?

Her thumb hovered over send.

Was this too direct? No. Yes.

Fuck.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, then deleted the message.

Before she could think better of it, she typed:

I trusted you.

Hit send. No going back now.

Her breath came in sharp bursts, her pulse thundering in her ears.

A ping.

Her stomach flipped. She grabbed her phone.

Not Justin.

Tristan.

What? When did he put his number in my phone?

Tristan

“You know, you never answered me about going to the ball with me.”

She stared. Utterly confused. A hollow laugh escaped her lips.

Un. Fucking. Believable. She was drowning in lies.

Lying to Tristan. Lying to Justin. Lying to herself.

She had to move carefully and before she could second-guess herself, she typed:

Victoria

I’ll go with you.

She hesitated, then hit send.

As the message went through, the world closed in.

God, I hope I know what I’m doing.

For the first time in a long time, a thought surfaced,piercing and raw.

Dad… I’m scared .