Page 79 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Sixty-Eight

T he roar of the crowd faded beneath the pounding of Victoria’s heart.

Her eyes flickered to Lena’s belongings on the ground, the remains of a fight too close, too brutal. She bent down, snatching the necklace from the mat, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. Her fingers curled around the shape of the dagger, her knuckles slick with blood.

With one last glance at the bloodied mat, she turned away, her steps heavy as she walked to where her heels lay abandoned, the weight of them grounding her as the arena spun behind her.

“Victoria!”

His voice cut through the chaos, frantic and urgent.

She didn’t think. She just moved. The burn in her lungs, the blood still dripping from her knuckles, felt distant, insignificant. She sprinted toward him, driven by the desperation in his gaze. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and hungry with something more than fear.

Then she leapt.

His arms were there, catching her effortlessly, holding her like she was the last thing that mattered in the world.

Their breaths came in ragged bursts, chests rising and falling in unison, desperately clinging to something real.

For a fleeting second, everything else faded. The chaos, the blood, the bodies.

She was safe. Here. With him.

His fingers threaded through her hair, pulling her closer, gripping like he never wanted to let go. Then, without warning, his mouth crashed against hers, raw and desperate, the kind of kiss that spoke more than words ever could.

“I—I killed…,” she choked out, her voice trembling with the weight of it, but the sentence died on her lips. Tears streaked down her face, mixing with the blood and sweat on her skin.

“I know,” Tristan whispered, his voice thick, almost broken. “You’re safe.”

“Taylor?” Her voice barely escaped.

Tristan gently lowered her, keeping his hand at her back, guiding her forward as they made their way to the platform.

Justin was long gone, his blood marking the ground in dark splotches.

Two bodyguards lay unconscious near the edge, but Victoria wasn’t looking at them.

Her eyes were already searching for her friend.

“Taylor!” Her voice cracked as she called out, frantic.

“Right here,” Tristan said, his voice firm, pulling back a curtain.

In the corner, Taylor was huddled in a ball, her face streaked with tears. Victoria’s heart clenched at the sight. She ran toward her, but suddenly…

Cassian.

He’d regained consciousness.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t need to. He was waiting. Watching. Calculating his next move like a predator.

His hand shot out, grabbing Victoria’s leg with brutal force. Before she could even react, he yanked her to the ground, pulling her body toward his with a grip like iron.

He was on top of her in seconds, his hands tightening around her neck, choking the breath from her lungs.

Victoria gasped, her body bucking, fighting against the suffocating pressure. Her hands instinctively reached for the dagger she still held in her grasp. She twisted it with every ounce of strength, driving it deep into his arm. The sickening sound of metal slicing flesh echoed in her ears.

Cassian’s roar rang out, but he didn’t loosen his grip. He was relentless. His eyes blazed with fury, like a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

But he underestimated one thing.

Tristan.

Tristan’s movement was a blur, cold and ruthless. He’d seen Cassian’s game. He knew exactly where to strike.

With one calculated step, Tristan kicked out, his foot connecting with Cassian’s face in a brutal explosion of force. The sickening crack of bone filled the air, followed by a deafening silence that seemed to hang over the room.

Cassian crumpled like a ragdoll, his body jerking from the impact.

Victoria didn’t wait. She ran to Taylor, pulling her close, her heart still hammering in her chest.

“Taylor,” she whispered, voice breaking.

Taylor’s head popped up, and Victoria slid down to her level, wrapping her arms around her in a desperate, tearful hug.

Victoria’s heart raced as she pulled Taylor close, emotions swirling in a tornado of fear and relief. Taylor’s sobs filled her ear, and for a moment, all Victoria could do was hold on tight, trying to steady her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Taylor,” Victoria whispered, her voice cracking. Both of them cried in silence, everything too much to process in that moment.

But then, the world outside the small bubble they’d created began to shift.

A shout rang through the air, sharp and loud. “Move!” Loud bangs and flashes of light echoed, followed by screams. Panic swept through the crowd, feet pounding the floor in frantic flight. The once-controlled chaos had erupted into full-blown pandemonium.

Victoria’s head snapped up, eyes wide with confusion. She didn’t know what was happening, but there was no time to figure it out. The unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps cut through the chaos.

“Stay right here, Taylor. I’ll be back,” Victoria said quickly, her voice soft but firm as she pulled away, fingers squeezing her friend’s shoulder. Taylor nodded, still sniffling but trusting Victoria’s words.

Victoria’s feet moved before her mind caught up. She hurried toward Tristan, who stood near the platform, a frown etched across his face.

Tyson entered next to Adams, his handcuffs gleaming in the harsh light. Victoria froze.

What was he doing here? Why was he in cuffs?

The question pounded in her mind as she processed the sight, but then she saw Adams, his calm demeanor alongside Tyson made her stomach twist with unease.

What was Adams playing at?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of police flooding the room.

The cops swarmed in, boots thudding on the floor like a storm breaking.

The room had descended into pure chaos. Shouts of commands, handcuffs clinking, and the shrill wail of sirens outside painted the picture of a full-on takedown.

Adams, unmoved by the frenzy, made his way to the stairs to the platform.

“Tyson, what the hell is going on?” Tristan’s voice cut through the noise, his confusion thick in the air as he looked from Tyson to Adams. Tyson’s calmness was unsettling, a glaring red flag for Tristan.

Adams continued his cool, calculated march, guiding Tyson to a chair with a firm push. It was all part of the act, Victoria realized, this was a carefully orchestrated plan.

Tristan’s gaze flicked from Tyson to Adams, worry deep in his eyes. Victoria reached his side, her eyes darting between him and Tyson. “What’s going on, Adams?”

“Stay back,” Adams warned, his tone suddenly sharp as he gestured for Victoria to step aside. Then, with an almost casual motion, he pulled a set of cuffs from his belt and clinked them around Tristan’s wrists.

Victoria’s breath caught in her chest. It was happening. The plan was unfolding right before her eyes, but she still didn’t understand all the pieces.

“Adams,” she said, her voice strained. “What is all of this? What’s the deal with Tyson?”

Adams didn’t respond. He wasn’t about to give anything away. “Do as I say. I’ll explain later.”

Victoria looked at Tristan one last time. The briefest nod passed between them silent understanding. He’d get it. She had to trust him, and right now, she had no other choice but to trust Adams, too.

The chaos around them only intensified as cops arrested the top-tier drug dealers.

The sound of cuffs snapping shut, people yelling, and doors slamming echoed throughout the room.

Victoria barely had time to catch her breath before she watched Adams move toward the unconscious bodyguards, zip-tying their hands with precision.

And then Cassian. He was still here, lying near the floor, barely breathing. Victoria’s chest tightened.

Is he going to live?

“Detective,” Adams called sharply, glancing over his shoulder. “Smelling salts, please.”

Victoria’s breath hitched as the detective handed over the salts, her eyes flicking nervously to Cassian’s barely moving form. He was still a monster, but he was also a dangerous, breathing one.

Adams placed cuffs around Cassian’s wrists and motioned for the detective to help restrain him when he came to.

The officer knelt down, pressing the smelling salts under Cassian’s nose.

It took only seconds before his eyes snapped open, furious and bloodshot.

Cassian’s body tensed as he tried to push himself up, his movements jerky but filled with aggression.

He was still disoriented, but the rage in his eyes was undeniable.

“Hold on, big guy,” Adams muttered, his voice firm as he and the second detective helped Cassian to his feet.

The hulking man struggled, his muscles straining under the weight of his bindings, but he was forced into submission.

His breathing came in ragged, angry gasps as they dragged him toward the door.

Despite the restraints, Cassian’s arrogance never wavered. His lips curled into a smirk as the officer yanked him toward the exit, wrists locked tight in cold steel. His eyes gleamed with defiance because even bound, he still carried the air of a man who believed he controlled everything.

He cast a slow, calculating glance at Tristan, his voice smooth as silk, laced with venom.

“Don’t get too comfortable, son. The cartel will be coming to collect you soon.”

Tristan stiffened beside Victoria, brow furrowed in disbelief. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she glanced between the two men, dread twisting low in her gut.

A hand gripped Victoria’s arm, gentle but urgent. It took everything to tear her eyes from Tristan. Taylor stood beside her, silent tears streaking her face. Without thinking, Victoria squeezed her hand, steady and firm.

You’re safe. I’ve got you.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tristan’s voice cut through the air, sharp and low with unease.

Cassian jerked violently against the officer’s grip, cuffs clanking in protest. His eyes left Tristan and focused on Victoria. Then he smiled.

A cruel, knowing smile that sent ice knifing through Victoria’s spine.

“You really thought I’d go down without a plan?” Cassian’s voice curled with amusement.

“I made a deal, son. The kind you don’t walk away from.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping like a blade.

“They always collect.”

Cassian shifted in his cuffs, the metal clinking as he leaned forward, not to intimidate, but to savor. His gaze locked on Tristan with cold certainty.

“You’re legally contracted to marry the heiress of the Cardenas Cartel.”

A slow, venom-laced smirk curled across his face.

“Serena Cardenas.”