Page 4 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Three

“ F uck! I’m sick of this nightmare,” Victoria shouted, bolting upright.

Her skin damp with sweat, her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a violent reminder of the dream that wouldn’t let go.

Sweat clung to her skin, cold and sticky, the terror still lurking at the edges of her vision. The same nightmare, always the same.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, squinting at the harsh glow. One a.m.

“Why does this keep happening?” she muttered through clenched teeth, frustration bubbling up in her chest. She threw the covers off and headed to the bathroom. The space was modern with light walls, gleaming countertops, and sleek tiles.

She splashed cold water on her face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the nightmare.

The icy water sent a jolt through her, but it did little to calm her.

Stripping off her damp clothes, she stepped into the tiled shower, letting the hot water cascade over her.

It should’ve helped. It didn’t. Victoria knew she couldn’t stay in the apartment any longer.

She dressed quickly, grabbed her gym bag, and headed out.

Maybe a hard workout could quiet the memories that refused to let her rest.

The cool air bit at her cheeks, and the city's usual noise had quieted to a rare, almost eerie calm. Victoria jogged down the empty street toward the gym she’d found the other night. Her footsteps echoed softly, her breath visible in the crisp air.

When she reached the gym doors, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the handle. She felt silly, unsure if she looked as ridiculous as she felt for coming here at this hour. Just go in , she told herself, but her feet stayed rooted in place.

“Are you going to go in?” The low, rough voice cut through the silence, making her jump.

Victoria spun around, her heart racing from the unexpected voice. A man stood behind her, tall and broad-shouldered, his hoodie casting half his face in shadows. His mouth curved into a smirk that screamed cockiness.

“Oh, sorry,” she replied, her voice soft but her eyes narrowing slightly. “Didn’t realize the sidewalk was your personal stage for dramatic entrances.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Just wondering if you’re lost or if you need someone to show you how to use the door.”

Someone is overly confident , she thought.

Victoria arched an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I know how doors work… and I definitely don’t need lessons from someone hiding in the shadows and thinks he's clever for it.”

His grin widened, his arrogance barely contained. “Touché.”

Another man emerged from the darkness like a shadow, slightly shorter but with a commanding presence. He had sharp features and piercing dark eyes, his jaw was clenched, and there was a certain intensity in his gaze as he focused on the guy in the hoodie.

“Stop harassing the girl,” he said, his tone firm but calm. His hand gripped the shoulder of the hoodie-wearing guy with surprising strength, muscles flexing under his sleeve.

Hoodie Guy rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered. “Just having some fun, Tyson. Maybe she?—”

“Maybe she doesn’t need your kind of fun,” he cut in, his voice carrying a hint of warning.

Victoria watched the exchange, her curiosity piqued. This guy—Tyson, apparently—seemed different, like he was used to keeping the other one in check. She couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and wariness.

Tyson glanced at her briefly, his expression softening just a bit. “Sorry about him,” he muttered, still holding the hoodie guy in place. “He’s got more bark than bite, but it’s still annoying as hell.”

Victoria offered a faint smile, deciding to play along. “No worries,” she replied. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Tyson nodded, his lips twitching into a slight smile before he turned his attention back to his friend. “Now, are you done acting like a fool, or do I have to drag you inside?”

Hoodie guy raised his hands in mock surrender, then turned to follow Tyson inside. He paused, holding the door open with a lazy grin. “Coming?” he asked.

Victoria brushed past him, her chin held high. “Thanks,” she replied curtly, not missing the way his grin widened at her clipped tone.

As she made her way to the desk, she noticed they didn’t sign in like everyone else was supposed to. Her curiosity was piqued.

Who are these two? she wondered.

Casey, the gym manager, emerged from the storage closet, alerted by the bell above the door. “Can’t sleep again?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Finishing up her information on the sign-in sheet, Victoria shook her head with a faint smile. “No,” she answered vaguely. If only I could tell you about the terrifying dreams that keep me awake…

Her eyes drifted back to the two men, just in time to catch the hoodie guy pull down his hood. “Casey, can you put on some real music?” he called out with a smirk. “This classic rock isn’t doing it for me.”

Victoria’s breath hitched for a second. With his hood down, she could see his face clearly now.

Sharp jawline, dark hair, and striking eyes that had a teasing glint.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his shirt, annoyingly looking like someone straight out of a fitness magazine…

or a moody movie poster. Great, she thought, he’s gorgeous AND arrogant.

The resemblance between him and the guy called Tyson was clear. They had to be brothers.

She rolled her eyes, trying to shake off the involuntary flutter in her stomach. “You really think music will help your technique?” she shot back, unable to resist a jab.

He turned, clearly amused, his smile turning slightly wicked. “Oh, I’ve got technique to spare,” he replied smoothly. “But if you need a lesson, I’m happy to help.”

Victoria felt a mix of irritation and… something else she couldn’t quite place. “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she shot back, moving toward the weights.

He chuckled, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, turning to his brother.

“Tristan, can we get back to our workout, or do you just want to keep flirting with the girl?” Tyson's tone was dry, a hint of amusement coloring his words as he stepped up beside Tristan, his presence calm but commanding.

The two of them were a striking pair, each radiating a different kind of intensity. Tyson was all cool steel and smoldering control, while Tristan was the spark, reckless and charming

Great, Victoria thought sarcastically. Of course, they’re both gorgeous. Just my luck.

She watched them move to the boxing ring, their movements fluid and precise, like predators sizing each other up before a fight. She tore her gaze away, trying to focus on anything but them.

“You okay, miss?” Casey’s soft, calming tone cut through her thoughts. He had that easygoing look of someone you could trust, like a favorite uncle with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah, ” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the lingering tension was evident in her voice.

“Those two… they seem like a lot to handle. Especially the taller one, what’s his name again?

” She fumbled with her earbuds, trying to distract herself.

She needed to get through her workout, clear her head, and get to the hospital in a few hours for her first day as head midwife.

Casey chuckled softly, but there was a flicker of caution in his eyes. “That’s Tristan. And the other is his brother, Tyson. Let’s just say… they’re not the kind of guys you want to get mixed up with. Their family owns this gym, actually… and a lot more around here.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow. “A lot more?” I shouldn’t be getting involved, she reminded herself.

Casey nodded, his expression a bit more serious now. “Yeah, they’re… influential. Got their hands in a lot of things in this city.” He lowered his voice, leaning in slightly. “Just be careful around them. They can be… unpredictable.”

She forced a laugh. “Noted.” But as she moved toward the weights, she felt the weight of Casey’s words settling on her shoulders like a warning.

Great. Just what I need.

She tried to focus on her routine, but her mind kept drifting back to Tristan. The way he moved, so effortlessly, with that mix of arrogance and ease. Stay away, she warned herself. Stay far, far away.

An hour later, Victoria was wiping down her equipment, body buzzing from exertion.

But her eyes kept drifting to the boxing ring.

Tristan and Tyson were in the midst of an intense sparring match.

It was almost hypnotic watching them. Tristan moved with a relaxed arrogance, his strikes smooth and effortless, while Tyson’s movements were precise and calculated, each punch delivered with a cold efficiency.

As Victoria watched, memories began to surface.

Flashes of her father, the gym, and their training sessions together.

He had been a top fighter in his prime, and Victoria remembered him praising her natural talent.

Even in witness protection, she had managed to keep up with her training, using fighting as a way to stay grounded.

The feeling of power and control in the ring had always centered her, providing a sense of normalcy amid the chaos of her life.

“Like what you see?” Tristan taunted, voice dripping with amusement. He was hanging off the ropes now, his body slick with sweat, muscles tight from the fight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Victoria scoffed, willing herself to focus on something, anything, other than the way his abs flexed with every breath. “Not really. Your footwork’s sloppy, and you drop your left guard when you go for a right hook.”

Tristan blinked. Tyson coughed to cover a laugh.

“What?” she asked innocently, tilting her head. “You asked.”

Tristan narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, his presence suddenly suffocating. “You think you can do better, sweetheart?”

Victoria smirked, crossing her arms. “I think I wouldn’t get punched in the face as much.”