Page 72 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Sixty-One

T he moment Tyson disappeared into the crowd, Tristan’s hand was on her.

Not a gentle touch. Not a request. A claim.

Victoria barely had a second to catch her breath before he spun her, the shift so sudden it sent a thrill down her spine. A new song pulsed through the speakers, slower, deeper, the kind that thrummed in your bones.

“Last dance, love,” he murmured, his voice dark, edged with possessiveness. “And then I have to go.”

He twisted her, guiding her into the motion with effortless control. The slit of her dress fluttered open, baring the smooth expanse of her leg as he spun her back into him.

His hand slid down, gripping her thigh, pulling it up to hook against his hip.

His fingers pressed into her skin, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive flesh. A taunt. A warning. A reminder.

Her breath hitched.

The world faded.

There was only Tristan.

His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm, teasing.

“There’s almost nothing between us now,” he whispered, his fingers skimming over the soft skin of her thigh, making their way closer to where her body yearned for his touch. “You’re making it impossible to leave.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, but she refused to speak. Her body betrayed her, pressed against him, held captive by his grip, telling him everything he needed to know.

His grip tightened, his other hand trailing up her spine, fingertips grazing bare skin. As her leg slid down, bringing her fully to her feet, she took a shaky breath.

“Then don’t. Stay here with me,” she pleaded, her voice raw with the longing she couldn’t hide. She knew he would stay if he could, but deep down, she also knew that wasn’t an option for him.

“Victoria.” His voice was low, intense. He put his forehead to hers, a final attempt to ground them both in the heat of the moment. “Just know it’s you and only you.” He kissed her forehead, soft yet filled with something heavier, before slowly backing away.

Her outstretched hand trembled, the distance between them growing with every step he took. She reached for him, but her fingers met only air. The ache was sharp. People always left, even when they didn’t want to.

She forced herself to stand still, pushing back the panic rising in her chest. What if this was the last time? What if Cassian found out?

Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned to lock eyes with Taylor.

Taylor exchanged a few words with Justin, who nodded, then started walking toward her.

“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, rubbing Victoria’s arms in a soothing motion.

“Not really,” Victoria replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I know there’s not much I can do without causing more problems. It’d be a miracle if Cassian doesn’t know who I am… but can you imagine what he’d do to Tristan if he found out we’re together?”

Taylor held her tighter, the warmth of her embrace grounding Victoria. “I know it feels impossible right now,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “You’re never alone in this, no matter how much it feels like you are.”

“I know, Tay. I’m going to go grab a drink. Go have fun, at least one of us should be dancing the night away.”

“Are you sure? I can—” Taylor started, but Victoria put her hand up to stop her.

“Go have fun, Tay.”

Taylor hesitated for a second before turning back to find Justin.

They were actually cute.

Walking over to the bar, she leaned against it, placing her hands on the counter as she lifted each foot in turn, rolling her ankles to ease the ache from her heels.

“What can I get you, Miss?” the bartender asked.

“Moscato.”

As she turned to find Taylor again, she noticed them leaving the ballroom. Not thinking much about it, she took a drink of her wine and started to walk the room.

Music played softly in the background when a hand pulled at her arm. “Victoria.”

Confused, she turned and saw Ms. Conners, her boss, pull her mask down.

“Oh, hi, Ms. Conners.”

“Whitney, please, we’ve worked together long enough.” She made a small, light laugh and looked around her. “Where’s your date?”

A small ping of sadness washed over her, but no one could tell. “He had something to do and had to leave early.” Victoria took a small sip of her wine. “I’ll tell him you said hi.”

Victoria forced a polite smile as she engaged in small talk with Whitney, discussing work, the event, and the stunning venue. But as much as she tried to focus, her mind was still tangled with Tristan, the warmth of his hands, the weight of his words, the ache of watching him walk away.

She took another sip of her wine, nodding at something Whitney said when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Care to dance?”

The deep voice sent a ripple of tension through her. She turned, already knowing who she’d find.

Adams.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, his mask only partially obscured the sharp intelligence in his eyes. He extended a hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

Victoria hesitated, glancing back at Whitney, who arched a brow but said nothing.

“Just one dance,” Adams said smoothly, his voice low and persuasive, as though he was trying to get her alone for a reason.

Victoria exchanged a quick glance with Whitney before turning back to Adams.

Adams' grip was firm but not forceful as he guided her into a slow waltz. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room even as he spoke low enough for only her to hear.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked quietly. “Is everything okay?”

His body language faltered slightly, but his eyes…his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Adams, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Tristan?”

“Tristan?”

Fuck.

She hadn’t meant to say his name, but now it was too late.

Adams' expression flickered, but he recovered quickly. “No. Tristan and Tyson are fine.” He hesitated, then added, “Tristan is about to step into his first fight.”

Victoria’s brows knitted together. Her confusion deepened.

“How do you know that?”

Adams didn’t answer right away. A fraction of a second too long.

Victoria stiffened. He shouldn’t know that. The underground fights weren’t something easily tracked, and if Tristan was about to fight, that meant Adams had eyes where he shouldn’t.

Her stomach twisted. “Who told you?”

Adams exhaled, his grip on her hand tightening slightly before he spun her, giving himself a beat to think. When she came back to him, his expression was blank.

“What the fuck is going on? Spit it out, you’re really starting to piss me off.” Victoria stopped but Adams grabbed her, swaying to the music again because they were causing a scene.

“Look I’m sorry.” he muttered. “When’s the last time you’ve had eyes on Taylor and Justin?”

Victoria frowned, the sudden shift throwing her off. “I just saw them,” she admitted. “Taylor was actually leading Justin out of the ballroom. It looked like things were taking off for them.” She let out a small, nervous laugh. “Not that I truly approve…”

“Victoria,” Adams cut in, his voice sharp. “Justin took her.”

The words didn’t register.

Her brows knitted together, a slow shake of her head. “What?”

Adams’ jaw flexed. “I’m saying she didn’t just leave with him. He took her.”

No. That didn’t make sense. Taylor had been smiling. She looked happy. She had been the one leading Justin toward the door…

Her stomach dropped.

Her eyes snapped back to Adams. His expression was tense, waiting for it to click.

“No,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Adams’ grip on her arm tightened slightly. “Yes.”

She didn’t think, didn’t breathe, before shoving away from him, pushing through the crowd.

“Victoria!” Adams cursed under his breath, following.

She barely noticed the ballroom fading behind her as she ran toward the doors, her pulse a frantic roar in her ears.

Taylor.

She had to find her.

Now.