Page 110 of Shattered By Grace

He paused, his breathing unsteady, before he leaned in, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

“I was raised to follow orders. To put my family first. To be exactly what my father needs me to be.” His jaw tightened, his expression now sharp and dangerous. “But I’d go against him for you.”

The words were spoken like a vow, heavy with the kind of promise that can’t be taken back.

Victoria didn’t move, just listened to every word Tristan was saying.

"I don’t think you understand what that means," Tristan continued, voice rough. "I don’t defy him. No one does. He built me, trained me, made me into exactly what he wanted." His hands curled into fists, knuckles white.

Victoria’s breath caught, a chill racing down her spine that had nothing to do with the storm.

“And if he knew what I felt for you, what I’d do for you, he’d see it as a weakness. He’d use it against me. Against you.”

His hand tightened into a fist against the table before he finally looked at her, his gaze burning into hers. “And I don’t care. I’d still choose you. Every. Damn. Time.”

Her heart stammered, her stomach twisting painfully.

"This isn’t just some choice, Victoria. It’s war." His voice was raw, stripped bare. "And if it comes down to him or you?" His hand found hers, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "It’s you. It’s always you."

Her stomach twisted. There was a beat and a slow, sharp inhale. He just handed her the power to ruin him.

The room felt smaller, the air between them charged and suffocating. She could see the war raging inside him, the way he was balancing on the edge of a cliff and choosing to fall.

Tristan let out a dry chuckle, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit, I don’t do this,” he muttered. “I don’t sit in candlelit greenhouses and talk about my damn feelings.”

Victoria lifted a brow, her lips curving in a slow, teasing smirk, trying to ease the weight of his confession. “So what you’re saying is… I’m special?”

He groaned, tilting his head back like he was questioning every decision that led him here. “God help me.”

She laughed, and this time, Tristan does, too. Real and unguarded, the sound rough and deep, like he hadn’t let himself do it in years.

But even as the tension eased, even as she teased him, Victoria knew one thing for certain.

Tristan Locke just made his choice.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The ride back had been silent, but it wasn’t the tense kind Victoria had once feared. It was thick with unspoken words, the weight of Tristan’s confession still pressing against her chest. Love. He hadn’t said it simply, he had said it with the weight of a promise, a vow not said out loud but undeniable. He would go against his father for her. His fingers were laced with hers, his thumbs tracing slow, rhythmic circles over her knuckles, sending warmth that she didn’t quite know how to name.

And now, standing at her apartment door, key in hand, she realized how much had changed. She glanced up at him as she turned the lock, her heart stuttering at how he watched her, like he could see the shift happening within her, the walls crumbling, the battle she had fought so long finally surrendering. It scared her how right that felt.

The door clicked open, and Tristan stepped in first, scanning the space with that ever-present protectiveness of his. She rolled her eyes but let him, because that was who he was. And maybe she didn’t mind it as much as she used to.

She pushed the door closed and clicked the lock. Leaning against the door, she watched him closely as he made his rounds. She noticed Clawdia watching him just as intently from the arm of the couch. Pushing off the door, she went to pet her cat on the head.

When he finally turned back to her, his expression softened, his stormy eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent warmth curling through her stomach. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, rough around the edges.

Victoria exhaled, stepping forward until there was barely space between them. “Yeah,” she admitted, her fingers twitching at her sides. “I just…” She swallowed hard, the words so much bigger than her voice. “I think I’ve been fighting this for so long that I didn’t realize I lost.”

Tristan’s jaw ticked, his hands finding her hips, thumbs brushing slow circles that made her pulse jump. “Lost?” he echoed, his voice dipping. “Or finally won?”

A breathless laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “You always have to win, don’t you?”

He smirked, but it was softer than usual. “Not always. But I wasn’t going to lose you.”

Something inside her cracked wide open. He meant every word, every touch, every time he stood by her even when she pushed him away. And now, she couldn’t push anymore. Didn’t want to.

Slowly, she reached up, fingers trailing over his jaw before she pulled him down, her lips brushing against his in the softest whisper of a kiss. He inhaled sharply, like he hadn’t expected it, but then he was there, pressing forward, claiming the space between them with reverence, and it made her knees weak.

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