Page 8 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

Chapter Six

“ I t’s been months since we had dinner. All you do is work or hit the gym,” Taylor teased, glancing up from her charting after their last birth.

“Grace, you’re a hermit in scrubs. Friday, no excuses. We’re going out,” Taylor declared, her grin widening.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, amused by Taylor’s persistence. “Oh, really? And here I thought my social life was already so thrilling.”

Taylor’s smile grew playful. “Come on, this city has more than just a gym. There’s a whole world out there. Museums, restaurants, nightclubs… maybe even a date?”

Victoria sighed, leaning back in her chair with a half-smile. “I know, I know. It’s just… easier to stick to a routine. The gym helps me clear my mind. It’s not like either of the twins have made any moves."

Taylor’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Wait, what? The twins? Tristan and Tyson? What do you mean they’re not making any moves? Are they supposed to?”

I’m supposed to be getting close to them, figuring out what their family is hiding. But I’m failing—miserably. Tristan has this way about him. Ugh. She couldn’t exactly say that out loud.

Victoria felt a blush creeping up her neck. “No, no, I don’t think so,” she said quickly. “It’s just… they’re always around, you know? I see them every day at the gym, and there’s this… tension.”

“Tension, huh?” Taylor’s grin turned sly. “Now that sounds juicy.’”

Victoria rolled her eyes, forcing a scoff. “Trust me, it’s not. It’s just… complicated.”

Taylor leaned back, intrigued. "Complicated sounds interesting. Come on, spill. What's the deal with you and the twins?"

Their father murdered mine, and I want to burn their empire to the ground. But I can’t tell you that. Oh, and my name isn’t even Grace. That little detail stays with her.

Victoria sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“I don’t know what to do, Tay. I’m attracted to them both.

” The words tasted bitter, but they weren’t a lie.

She hesitated, then admitted, "Tristan? He’s…

aggravating. Always pushing my buttons, but there’s this tension…

this flirting that I can’t ignore. And Tyson?

Ugh, Tyson. He’s so damn hard to read. Most of the time, he’s distant, but then…

there are these moments where he watches me at the gym like I’m the only person in the room. ”

Taylor chuckled, leaning in with a playful grin. "Oh, that sounds like you’re in deep, girl. But honestly, a little complication never killed anyone, right?"

If only you knew. I’m in so deep, I might drown. She mentally groaned, scrambling for a way to escape this conversation.

Victoria laughed, shaking her head. “Hold that thought.”

As she stood up, Victoria glanced at the clock. “Hey, I’m going to check on room four. She was progressing nicely, and I want to say goodbye before I head out for the night.”

“Alright, we’re going out Friday night,” Taylor called after her, her voice light with excitement. “And no gym excuses, okay?”

“No promises!” Victoria called back, grinning as she walked away.

“Hey Grace! Tony is waiting for you in the ring,” Casey called out as Victoria walked into the gym.

The gym felt different tonight, the air thick against her skin like an unseen weight.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, sharp-edged shadows that made her nerves itch. She resisted the urge to check over her shoulder, but the phantom scent of cigarette smoke curled in her nostrils, setting her pulse on edge.

Casey waved. “Grace! Looking sharp today.”

Her stomach clenched. Grace. The name was a bitter pill, a reminder of the life she was forced to abandon. But she swallowed the resentment, locking it away. “Thanks, Casey,” she said, keeping her tone even, despite the storm twisting inside her.

Pulling her hair into a tight bun on top of her head, she glanced over at the counter, where a few other gym members were chatting. “Hi,” she greeted them with a nod, maintaining her facade of confidence.

She made her way to the locker room, the familiar scent of disinfectant and sweat greeting her as she entered.

The locker room was a mix of sleek metal lockers and wooden benches, designed for functionality rather than comfort.

She found an empty locker and quickly changed into her workout gear: black leggings, a fitted tank top, and her worn but reliable boxing shoes.

As she laced up her shoes, Victoria took a steadying breath, letting the familiar ritual ground her.

The locker room was her temporary sanctuary, the last quiet moment before stepping into the controlled chaos of the gym.

Here, she could gather her thoughts, shake off distractions, and brace herself for what was to come.

She caught her reflection in the mirror, adjusting her bun and tightening the wraps around her hands. The face staring back was both hers and not. Victoria and Grace, tangled together in a fragile balance.

Stay alert. The warning pulsed in her mind like a mantra.

Satisfied, she pushed open the door and stepped into the gym. The shift was immediate. Noise swelled around her. Weights clanking, fists pounding against heavy bags, the rhythmic grunts of fighters pushing their limits. Chaos, discipline, sweat. She thrived in it.

Tony stood in the ring, his presence unmistakable. A fighter through and through, his body bore the stories of a thousand fights in every scar and every muscle.“Ready to get started?” Tony called out, his voice carrying a blend of authority and encouragement.

Victoria nodded, climbing into the ring. “Always,” she replied, her voice steady.

Tony tossed her a pair of gloves. She caught them easily, sliding her hands in and tightening the straps.

“We’re going to work on your footwork today,” Tony said, his eyes assessing her stance. “You’ve got the power, but we need to make sure you can move fluidly.”

Victoria nodded, positioning herself in the center of the ring. She knew Tony's training style was tough but effective. Every session with him pushed her to her limits and helped her grow stronger.

Tony began demonstrating the drills, his movements fluid and precise. “Remember, it’s all about staying light on your feet. Keep moving, don’t let your opponent find an opening.”

Victoria mirrored his steps, her body falling into the rhythm of the movements. She focused on the feel of the mat beneath her feet, the subtle shifts in balance, and the constant motion.

As they worked through the drills, Tony kept a close eye on her, offering corrections and encouragement. “Good, Grace. Keep it up. Don’t forget to breathe.”

She moved faster, her confidence growing with each step. The gym faded into the background, and all that existed was the ring, her opponent, and the rhythm of the fight. This was where she felt most alive, where she could channel all her fears and frustrations into something productive.

After an hour of intense training, Tony called for a break. “You’re doing great, Grace. Take five, and we’ll move on to some sparring.”

Victoria nodded, taking a good-sized drink. The bitter coldness coated her throat with much-needed pleasure. She leaned on the ropes, catching her breath, when she noticed a sudden change in the gym's atmosphere.

The moment they walked in, the gym’s energy shifted just like it always did. Impossible to ignore.

Tristan, ever the social butterfly, moved through the space with effortless charm, exchanging easy smiles and casual conversation, his presence both magnetic and commanding.

Tyson was his contrast. Silent, intense, his gaze sharp enough to cut through steel.

He didn’t need to speak to make an impact.

One look from him felt like he was peeling back your layers, seeing every secret you’d rather keep buried.

Fuck me. Victoria clenched her jaw. I was hoping to get through this workout without them here today.

The two dark-haired, god-like twins strode in, effortlessly commanding attention.

Their chiseled features and sculpted muscles were impossible to ignore, each movement radiating confidence and control.

Victoria’s pulse spiked as her gaze flickered over the intricate tattoos snaking across their arms and chests, dark ink etched against golden skin.

She knew those symbols all too well, the unmistakable marks of their family. The family responsible for everything she lost.

Why do they have to look like that? So beautiful. Ugh. It would be so much easier to hate them if I wasn’t attracted to them. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

Being near them was infuriating. Their father had ordered her father’s murder.

She tried to keep her distance, to avoid them altogether, but Tristan was insufferable, and Tyson was an enigma she couldn’t ignore.

She hadn’t come back to the city for distractions. She had a purpose. To find answers about her father’s death and figure out how to get them.

Remnants of her past flooded her mind, taunting her.

"What are you looking at, Dad?" Victoria had asked, peering into the room.

He was hunched over his desk, rifling through a pile of photographs, his expression tense and focused, as if searching for a crucial piece to a puzzle.

The photos were of different men who all bore the same intricate tattoos.

Taking a look around the room like her father had taught her, she noticed several drawings of those tattoos pinned to the wall, each accompanied by rankings. Her father's meticulous work was evident in the detailed annotations and sketches.

Her father snapped shut the notebook he was scribbling in, panic flickering in his eyes before he could hide it.

"Just some work stuff, darling," he lied, forcing a loving smile as he looked up at her.

She was his precious daughter, shielded from the dangerous world of the Locke family that loomed over their lives.