Page 67 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Fifty-Six

T he car ride back to Victoria’s apartment was silent, but it wasn’t empty. It was charged, heavy with unsaid things. Tristan sat beside her, fingers drumming against his thigh, his other hand resting on her knee. Not absentmindedly but possessively. Like a silent claim. A reminder.

Justin’s taunt still clung to the air like smoke, but Tristan had already made his point. Fear was a powerful weapon, and he had wielded it flawlessly.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of her building, Tristan finally moved, turning to face her, his gaze burning into hers. “I have something to handle.” His voice was low, firm, controlled. But there was something else there.

Victoria met his stare, tilting her head slightly. “Something, or someone?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but it wasn’t from amusement. “You don’t want to know.”

And she didn’t. Not really.

She made the move to the door handle but Tristan was already heading around the car to open her door.

“WIll you stay here this time?” Tristan pulled her close.

“Yes,” she agreed, looking up at him with more sexual tension than she thought possible.

“You keep looking at me like that I will take you in my car.”

“Promise?” she murmured, testing him.

“As much as I would love to lose every brain cell I have in you right now, I have to go and take care of this. I will see you tomorrow,” he drawled, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

He rubbed his fingers down her jaw, grabbing her by the nape of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

“Don’t play with me, love,” he warned, his voice like silk-wrapped steel. “Because if I start, I won’t stop.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs, but Tristan was already shifting gears.

“I have to go,” he murmured, almost like an apology. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then he kissed her. Not just a kiss, but a claim. Slow, deep, and utterly ruinous, stealing the breath from her lungs like he had every right to it. His fingers tangled in her hair, anchoring her to him, like letting go wasn’t an option.

And then, just as quickly as he unraveled her, he pulled back.

His forehead rested against hers for a single heartbeat before he smirked. “Go inside, Victoria.”

And just like that, he was gone. Slipped into the car, leaving her standing there, wrecked, breathless, and aching for more.

Victoria forced herself to move, stepping inside and shutting the door and locking it. Because Tristan would lose his mind if she forgot.

Only then did she realize…the roses. Forgotten until the moment the door shut behind her and then they were all she could see. The weight of the last few hours pressed into her chest, twisting what had been something so undeniably special into something far darker.

She inhaled the soft, familiar scent as she walked further inside, letting her fingers drift over the petals. That’s when she noticed a plain white card with her name scrawled across the front.

She opened it, her pulse stumbling at the words inside.

Her breath hitched.

A single tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another. She pressed her hand to her mouth, trying to hold in the raw emotion that threatened to spill out, but it was no use. The tears fell anyway, warm and uninvited, tracing the curve of her jaw.

Not because she was sad, but because no one had ever seen her like this before. Had ever cared enough to put it into words.

“Tristan…” she whispered his name, barely a breath, a prayer that only the walls heard.

Her chest burned with the strain of held-back words, she knew, without question, they had to be said.. But not like this. Not over a text.

Still, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the screen before typing.

Victoria

Every word you wrote… it’s like you see me in ways no one else does. You’ve got me in ways I can’t put into words. Whatever this is between us, it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt.

A second passed, then another. Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.

Tristan

I meant every word, love. Sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.

She smiled softly, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. Tomorrow.

Saturday flew by in a whirl of laughter, pampering, and girl talk. By the time they were seated for brunch, Victoria and Taylor had caught up on everything, from the drama of the past week to their hopes and fears for the future. Taylor eyed Victoria over her mimosas, her smirk never fading.

“So, spill. What’s going on with you and Tristan?” Taylor teased, studying her friend. “There’s something different about you. You’re like, glowing.”

Victoria took a sip of her mimosa, trying to find the right words. “It’s like... it’s all-consuming, Taylor. When I’m with him, I feel like I’m on fire. Every part of me is... awake. And when we’re apart? Nothing. Like there’s this hole in me that can’t be filled.”

Taylor nodded, her gaze softening with understanding. “I get it. It’s not just attraction. It’s like he’s become a part of you.”

“Exactly.” Victoria leaned back in her chair, lost in thought. “But it scares me, too. I’ve never felt anything like this before. And I don’t want to get lost in it.”

“You won’t get lost,” Taylor reassured her, squeezing her hand. “This is about you finding yourself. And if this love burns like that, you lean into it. You deserve that kind of fire.”

Victoria smiled, the warmth of Taylor’s support helping to ease the tension in her chest. “Thanks, Tay. I just need to figure out how to let go of the fear. I’m not sure I’m ready to face it yet.”

“You will be,” Taylor said with certainty. “And Tristan? He’s not going anywhere. You’ve got something real.”

Victoria hesitated, then glanced at Taylor with a small smirk. “Though… fair warning, your date tonight might have a black eye.”

Taylor blinked. “Wait… why, what did Tristan do?”

“Tristan didn’t do it.” Victoria leaned in, lowering her voice. “I did.”

Taylor’s jaw dropped. “What the hell happened?”

Victoria sighed, launching into the chaos of Friday night. Taylor’s face cycled through every emotion as she listened.

“So where do you come in?” Taylor muttered.

“I tried to break up the fight, but Justin grabbed my leg to stop me, so I kicked him in the face… hard. He backed off, but not before I made it very clear to never touch me again. Tristan lost it after that, slammed Tyson to the ground, and nearly went after Justin too. As we were leaving, Justin had the nerve to smirk and say, ‘See you tomorrow,’”

Taylor let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Remind me never to piss you off. And also, if that man so much as blinks at me wrong at the ball, I’m kicking him somewhere way worse than the face.”

Victoria snorted, “I still can’t believe you're going with him after everything.”

“Well it’s too late to back out now.” Taylor said with a shrug, the tension finally breaking between them.

As the conversation turned to other topics, the day passed quickly, and before long, they were being led into the spa for massages.

The relaxation of the moment was soothing, Victoria allowing herself to unwind completely, pushing aside the swirling thoughts of Tristan and everything that lay ahead.

Next came the hair and makeup appointments, where they laughed and chatted about everything and nothing.

The stylist worked magic on Victoria’s hair, giving it loose waves that framed her face perfectly, while her makeup enhanced her natural beauty.

Taylor, ever the enthusiast, kept complimenting her, making her feel like a goddess.

After a whirlwind of spa treatments and getting ready, they found themselves back at Victoria’s apartment. As soon as they stepped through the door, Taylor froze, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Damn,” she whispered under her breath, her gaze scanning the room in awe.

Victoria’s eyes followed her friend's gaze, and she couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. The apartment was filled with thousands of roses, an ocean of deep red and blush petals. Each one seemed to shimmer in the soft glow of the lights, their sweet fragrance filling the air.

But what really caught Taylor’s attention was the card. Her eyes locked onto it as she walked toward the table, picking it up with reverence as though it were something sacred. As she read it aloud, her voice softened with every line.

“To the Girl Who Fights Like Fire,” she started, her voice cracking slightly with the weight of the words. Her eyes darted to Victoria, wide with surprise. “He wrote this... for you?”

Victoria nodded, her heart beating faster as the memory of reading the poem earlier flooded back. “Yes.”

Taylor set the card down, still in disbelief. “This is next-level romance. He sees you, Vic. The way he loves you? That’s something special.”

Victoria swallowed hard, the emotions swirling in her chest. She had never had someone look at her, truly see her, the way Tristan did. She wasn’t just some fighter, some pawn in a game. With him, she was everything .

“Yeah,” Victoria whispered, her voice almost reverent. “It’s... it’s more than I ever expected.”

Taylor reached over, squeezing Victoria’s hand, a wide grin on her face. “More than expected? Girl, you’ve got yourself a king, and you’re his queen. Don’t ever forget that.”

Victoria smiled softly, overwhelmed by the truth in Taylor’s words. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel afraid of the fire that was Tristan. She was ready to let it consume her, every inch, every moment.

Victoria opened the door, expecting Tristan, but instead, a young man in a sleek black suit stood before her, holding a single red rose and a small box. He couldn’t have been older than twenty, but the way he carried himself told her he worked for the Lockes.

“Miss Victoria,” he said with a polite nod. “Mr. Locke asked me to deliver this to you.”

She hesitated for only a second before taking the items from his hands. The moment her fingers brushed the velvet box, a shiver ran down her spine.

"He said no response was necessary," the man added. "Just that you’d understand."

Before she could say anything, he gave a small bow and stepped back. "Mr. Locke has also provided the car. We’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready."

Victoria shut the door and locked it, because Tristan would expect nothing less, before setting the rose on the table and opening the box. Inside, nestled in silk, was a delicate black lace masquerade mask. A folded card rested beside it.

With careful fingers, she picked it up and unfolded it. Tristan’s familiar scrawl greeted her:

Her breath caught. Simple, yet it stole the air from her lungs.

Fingertips traced the mask, her heart hammering as she whispered, “Tristan.”