Page 135 of Shattered By Grace

For a heartbeat, she hoped it was Tristan, already back, ready to reclaim their moment.

“Can I have this dance?”

The voice was smooth. Refined. Laced with effortless charm.

It wasn’t Tristan.

It was Tyson.

Victoria’s stomach dropped, but she schooled her expression, lifting her gaze to meet his. He was watching her with the same poised, unshakable confidence he always carried… almost regalin its presence. The kind of man who could ask for a dance and make it sound like both a request and an inevitability.

“You look like hell.”

“You should see the other guy,” a flicker of amusement in his gaze told her he knew exactly what he was doing.

Her first instinct was to refuse. To pull away.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to have a mask on?”

The smile that spread across his beautiful sculpted face made her uncomfortable.

Instead of pulling away, like her mind warned her to do, she exhaled slowly, slipping her hand into his.

“One dance,” she said, voice cool.

Tyson’s smirk deepened, a flicker of emotion veiled just beneath his gaze.

“That’s all I want.”

The moment Tyson pulled her into the dance, he moved with effortless control, leading her like it was second nature. Victoria followed, her steps light but guarded, her body tense despite the easy sway of the music.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she murmured, keeping her gaze level with his.

Tyson let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m here to pick up Tristan. But you already knew that.”

Her jaw tightened. “Then why the dance?”

“Because I wanted one.” His grip on her waist remained featherlight, but his presence was anything but. “And you're standing here alone, where is that brother of mine anyways?”

Victoria schooled her expression, refusing to let him see how his words needled under her skin. “He stepped away.”

Tyson hummed in acknowledgment, leading her through a slow turn. “Convenient.”

Her eyes narrowed. “For who?”

He smirked, gaze flickering over her as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “For me, obviously.”

She scoffed, but Tyson only chuckled, the sound smooth and effortless.

“I was planning to wait until after the Reaping to have this conversation,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But since we’re here, and I might actually have a chance to talk without Tristan around…”

His grip tightened, just for a fraction of a second, enough to make sure she was paying attention.

“I wanted to apologize.”

That caught her off guard. “Apologize?”

“For my… behavior at the gym,” Tyson said, his voice even, carefully measured. He led her through a slow turn, his grip light yet assured. “Or rather, for letting Tristan bait me into something so trivial.” His lips twitched, almost amused, though there was a sharper edge beneath it. “I don’t usually entertain such theatrics, but you’ve likely noticed my brother excels at stirring up chaos.”

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