Page 38 of Shattered By Grace

Tony clapped Tristan on the back, his voice dropping. “When’s your next fight, Locke?”

Tristan’s jaw tensed, his smirk faltering for just a second, so quick she almost missed it. Almost.

“You know how it is.” He shrugged, a flicker of something cold in his eyes. “Whenever the old man says it’s time.”

Tony stepped in a little closer, barely scanning the gym, skipping right over Victoria.

She blew out a small breath before edging in as close as she could.

Tony’s voice dropped lower, his gaze hardening. “I heard the Grand Reaping is next month. Stakes are higher than ever. Word is, they’re bringing in killers from overseas. Real ones.”

“Yeah,” Tristan replied, his voice flat. “Tyson and I have some fights scheduled leading up to Reaping day. Wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

Victoria’s breath caught. The Grand Reaping. A buried memory slammed into her, crystal clear.

She was a teenager, creeping past her father’s study. His voice was sharp, urgent. “The Grand Reaping isn’t just a fight, it’s a front for everything fucked in this city. Drug lords, traffickers, killers. The Lockes run it all.”

Agent Collins, one of her father’s FBI contacts, had leaned in. “If we take it down, we cripple their operation.”

Her father had been close, too close.

Then, like a jolt, her thoughts shifted. Justin. How much did he know? Was he still with the FBI, or had he gone dark? He could be an ally…or her biggest threat.

She needed answers. Fast.

“Grace, we had a training session I didn’t know about?” Tony’s voice boomed, yanking her back to reality.

Shit. She forced a casual shrug. “Nope, just forgot something in my locker.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

Chapter Eighteen

Coming out of the locker room, Victoria was stopped dead as Tristan stood there, sexy and sweaty, commanding the room like he owned it. Victoria’s breath hitched. How could someone be both a warning and an invitation? His dark, stormy, and daring eyes, promised danger, yet she couldn’t look away.

“Get in here with me,” he drawled, his grin nothing short of wicked. A challenge, not an invitation.

Every instinct screamed to run. Justin’s warnings echoed in her mind. Stay away, the Locke family will destroy you, but her body had other plans. Because, damn, Tristan was temptation personified.

“I would, but I’d hate to embarrass you again,” she shot back, forcing nonchalance even as her pulse betrayed her.

Tristan smirked, stepping closer, heat radiating off him like a warning and a dare all at once. “Afraid you might like it too much?” His voice dipped, teasing, taunting.

She scoffed, ignoring the shiver trailing down her spine. “Some things aren’t worth the trouble.”

He tilted his head, studying her, his gaze sharp enough to cut. “Trouble,” he mused, voice a low purr. “Funny thing about that, it’s only trouble if you regret it.” He leaned in, his breath ghosting against her skin. “So tell me, Grace… would you regret it?”

God, he’s fucking gorgeous. Those fuck-me eyes are going to get me into trouble.

A small, shocked noise escaped her throat before she forced a smirk. “Depends on what it is.”

Tristan chuckled, dark and knowing. “Now that’s the right question.”

He’s too close. Too intoxicating. Victoria tilted her chin up, refusing to back down. “Tony, I need tape and gloves. Looks like someone needs a lesson.”

Tristan barked out a laugh, his eyes gleaming with something between amusement and admiration. “You’re a violent little thing, aren’t you?”

Tony, caught between them, tossed her the gear with a grin. “Tristan, you better watch it. She’s beauty, she’s grace, and she’ll punch you in the face.”

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