Page 9 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

The memory of those cryptic tattoos and the enigmatic men they represented haunted her to this day. The Lockes were more than just a last name, they were an insidious power that controlled everything from hospitals and banks to the police force itself. And her father had been a part of it all.

Tony was the boxing trainer at the gym. Tristan and Tyson were relentless with him, their intensity revealing a deep-seated connection.

It was clear that Tony respected both their power and their family name.

"Tristan... Tyson," he stuttered, a mix of reverence and fear in his voice, snapping Victoria back to the present.

Tristan towered over everyone, a cocky smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he surveyed the room, savoring the attention he effortlessly commanded.

Beside him, his brother Tyson was a shadow, quieter but no less intense.

Every move he made was calculated, his presence as dangerous as it was precise.

“Tony," Tristan greeted coolly, his eyes flicking toward Victoria. "Well, if it isn't Grace."

Victoria locked eyes with Tristan, her expression neutral, her gaze sharp.

"Tristan," she replied, her tone casual yet edged with just enough bite to match his arrogance. "Didn't realize you kept such close tabs on me. Should I be flattered or worried?"

She felt the weight of Tyson's silent stare beside his brother, his dark eyes studying her with that intense, blank expression. She refused to break eye contact with Tristan, determined not to let him see the flicker of nerves beneath her calm facade.

Tristan’s smirk widened. He was enjoying this. “Depends, love,” he drawled, stepping closer, slow and deliberate. “Should I be worried?”

Victoria met his gaze, a sharp, mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I’m not here to give you something to worry about,” she said smoothly, confidence laced through every word. “I’m here to make sure you’re paying attention. Wouldn’t want you to miss the main event.”

She leaned in just enough, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “And trust me, Tristan, I’m very good at keeping people on their toes.”

His smirk twitched, but he recovered quickly. "Well, well," he mused, his tone thick with amusement. "Looks like we've got a feisty one." He closed the distance between them, his towering presence meant to intimidate.

Arrogant asshole.

From the sidelines, Tyson finally leaned in, silent but watchful. His piercing blue eyes flickered with interest, cutting straight through her as if he could see everything she was trying to hide.

Tristan stepped into the ring with his usual swagger, his intense gaze locking on Victoria.

Her heart skipped a beat, the weight of his stare making her pulse quicken.

As she prepared for the spar, her stomach twisted with nerves, but a wave of adrenaline surged through her, replacing her anxiety with focus.

The twins' eyes were on her, their silent scrutiny like a challenge she couldn’t back down from.

Good job, Victoria. She mentally cursed herself, but the thought quickly faded as she refocused.

Her lips curled into a subtle, determined smile as she squared her shoulders. If she was going to get close to Tristan, and get the information she needed, she would have to keep his attention.

"Grace, you ready for sparring?” Tony asked, tossing aside the sweat-soaked towel from his face. His voice grew serious as he turned to Tristan. “Keep an eye on her, Tristan. She’s got something special,” he said, struggling to put on the gloves.

“Really?” Tristan snatched the gloves from Tony, his gaze locked on Victoria with unnerving intensity. “Let’s see if you can handle what I’ve got, love. I don’t go easy on anyone.”

Fuck.

Victoria rolled her shoulders, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t let Tristan get under her skin, not when every fiber of her being was already hyper-aware of him. His presence was a gravitational pull, dark and consuming, but she refused to fall.

Tristan slipped on his gloves, his smirk razor-sharp. “Try to keep up, love.”

The moment the bell rang, Victoria lunged first. Fast. Precise. She struck, aiming for his ribs, but Tristan sidestepped at the last second, his reflexes inhumanly sharp. He smirked.

Cocky bastard .

“Not bad,” he taunted, circling her like a predator playing with its meal. “But not good enough.”

A flash of irritation spurred her forward. She feinted left, pivoted, launching a sharp kick toward his side. He caught her ankle mid-air, his grip firm but teasing. He yanked her closer, their bodies nearly flush. Her breath hitched as his heat seeped into her, his smirk deepening.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “You kick like that, and I might start thinking you’re trying to get my attention.”

“Let go,” she gritted out, twisting to break free. He did. Too easily, sending her stumbling back just enough to irritate her pride.

She didn’t hesitate. Launching forward, she threw a punch aimed at his jaw. He ducked, but just barely, his smirk slipping into something more intense. Something dangerous.

“Better,” he admitted. Then he moved. Fast. Before she could react, he had her pinned against the ropes, one forearm bracing her shoulder, his body caging hers in. The air between them grew thick, charged with something far more dangerous than a fight.

Victoria’s pulse pounded in her throat as she stared up at him. He was close. Too close. The heat of his body, the scent of sweat and something distinctly Tristan sent her senses into overdrive. His lips curled, his breath brushing against her skin.

“You hesitate too much,” he murmured. “Gets you in trouble.”

Her fists clenched. “And you talk too much.”

Using his moment of arrogance against him, she twisted sharply, breaking free and shoving him back with enough force to make him stumble. His dark eyes flared with something primal, something both dangerous and electric.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he growled, lunging for her again.

Their movements turned sharper, rougher. Each strike was a challenge, each block a dare. They weren’t just fighting, they were pushing, testing, teasing. The line between combat and something far more intimate blurred with every second.

Victoria ducked under his arm, swinging low, but Tristan anticipated it, catching her wrist and twisting it behind her back. His chest pressed against her spine, his breath hot against her ear.

“You’re good,” he admitted, his voice a husky rasp. “But you’re holding back.”

She swallowed hard, her skin burning where he touched her. “And you’re an arrogant ass.”

Tristan chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to make her squirm. “Maybe,” he said. “But you like it.”

Fuck you.

She slammed her head back, nailing his lip with a satisfying crack before driving her elbow viciously into his ribs.

A grunt escaped him as his grip loosened, and she wrenched free, spinning to face him.

Her chest heaved, adrenaline and defiance burning in her veins as she met his gaze, dark, wild, and full of something that sent a shiver down her spine.

For a beat, they just stared at each other, breathless, the space between them crackling with tension. Then, slowly, Tristan smirked, licking the blood from his lower lip where her head had cracked it open.

“Now that,” he said, voice thick with something almost sinful, “was fucking hot.”

Then he lunged.

In a blur, he tackled her, their bodies crashing onto the mat with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. The world tilted as he pinned her beneath him, his weight pressing her down, his hands locking hers above her head.

Victoria thrashed beneath him, but he was relentless, his grip bruising, his body heat suffocating.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she bucked her hips, twisting sharply, and managed to flip him onto his back.

For a fleeting second, she straddled him, her breath ragged, her thighs bracketing his hips.

Tristan’s smirk deepened, his dark eyes burning into hers. "Didn't take you for the type to get on top so easily," he drawled, voice thick with amusement.

Her pulse jumped, but she refused to let him get the upper hand. She moved to shift, but he was faster, surging up and flipping her back beneath him with brutal force.

“You fight like you mean it,” he murmured. “But deep down, I think you like losing to me.”

Her pulse roared in her ears, a mix of fury and something far more dangerous tightening in her chest. “Get off me.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his grip tightening slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with a hunger that sent a jolt of heat through her.

“Enough!” Tony’s voice cut through the haze, but neither of them moved, their focus locked solely on each other.

Tristan’s lips parted as if he had something else to say, something more devastating, when suddenly, he was wrenched off her.

Tyson.

His brother pulled him back with a forceful grip, eyes unreadable. Victoria sucked in a breath, her body still thrumming from the intensity of their fight.

Tyson let out a slow, knowing smirk as he shaked his head. "Damn, Grace. Nice job."

Victoria exhaled sharply, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face before flipping her hair over her shoulder with a smirk. "Thanks."

Her gaze shifted to Tristan, eyes glinting with intensity. "Hope you like the taste of blood, because I’m not done making you swallow it."

Tristan leaned on the ropes, swiping his thumb across his busted lip. His tongue flicked out, tasting blood as his gaze locked on Victoria, amusement and disbelief in his eyes. A smirk, dark and dangerous. He blew her a slow, deliberate kiss. Her pulse skipped.

Tristan was climbing out, sweat dripping down his sharp jawline, when his phone buzzed.

One glance at the screen and his entire body stiffened. His jaw tightened. His cocky smirk vanished

He stepped away from the ring, pressing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” His voice was sharper now, the teasing edge completely erased.

From across the room, Victoria saw Tyson watching not with amusement, but with caution.

“Understood,” Tristan muttered before shoving the phone into his pocket.

When he turned back, his entire demeanor had changed.

Tyson arched a brow. “Something wrong?”

Tristan smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, just business. Come on.” He smacked Tyson’s chest and turned to leave.

He glanced back. “Next time, love.”

Liar .