Victorious: Locked Up Novels & Stories

Mama narrowed her eyes as she hit lightly on my back with the rolling pin, "At least respect your mother and don't curse in front of me." I huffed, I barely cursed but some people tended to grate on my nerves. Rolling my eyes, I let myself out of the bed, "Whoever this god is, we will make him eat his words. He is so gonna regret it." "Just don't go near him," Mama sighed as she watched me brush my teeth, "He is a Victor." My eyebrows scrunched as I met her eyes through the mirror, "The Victors?" She nodded. "Why would Victors come to our restaurant?" My voice was muffled as I looked back at her, "They're rich and super snobby. They don't eat in local eatella."

“Don’t move!” His voice thundered across the warehouse. Everything froze. Even Alexander stopped moving. The police sirens outside were much closer now. Red and blue lights flashed faintly through the broken windows. Victor’s breathing was heavy, his patience completely gone. “You really thought you could trap me?” he growled. Alexander slowly straightened. “Let him go.” Victor’s grip on Lucas tightened. “You don’t get to give orders anymore.” Lucas winced in pain but tried to stay calm.

You wanted to prove you could handle things on your own and look where it got you. Back at the penthouse… Damien’s tablet pinged with the first report. He opened it immediately. Live feed active. Two hostiles confirmed: Victor Voss and Marcus Hale. Female target secured in living room, wrists bound. Appears unharmed but distressed. A second message followed with audio transcript: Victor: “...start at ten million. Cash.” Marcus: “What if he calls the cops?” Victor: “He won’t. Men like him don’t involve police. They handle shit themselves. We just have to make sure he knows we’ll kill her if he tries anything.”

His knee bounced a steady rhythm, and his fingers twitched like he was texting in his head. Finally, the door crashed open with all the subtlety of a SWAT raid. Victor stepped in, hood up, eyes fever-bright behind thick glasses. He carried a battered laptop under one arm, cords snaking out of his backpack like intestines. He nodded at Grant, then at me, but didn’t speak until the door was locked and bolted behind him. “Sorry I’m late, Alpha.” Victor’s voice was higher than I expected, almost reedy, like he’d been running on nothing but nicotine and adrenaline for days. “Had to lose a tail.”

he replied immediately. … That night, assuming that I was truly serious about fighting her for the house, Hannah called me to tell me to stop wasting my time. "Give up, Mom. We're definitely going to win the bid for the house. Giselle already said that she'll support us, so there's no way that you can win the house from us." "That's great. Congratulations to you," I said indifferently. "Just you wait. You'll be begging us to take you in one day!"

“You disobeyed me. You came here after I told you to stay put. When we get home I’m going to fuck you so hard you forget your own name.” Alex’s breath caught, heat flooding his body even in the middle of gunfire. “Do it,” he whispered. “Just come back to me first.” The fight ended as fast as it started. The Rossis were outnumbered, outgunned. Two of them fled into the darkness; the rest were on the ground, disarmed. Victor’s men zip-tied the lieutenant while Victor dragged Alex back to the SUV, hand clamped tight around his wrist. The ride home was silent and electric. Victor’s grip on Alex’s thigh never loosened. Blood smeared his forehead, but his eyes were pure fire. The second the pentho

Because I'm certain he'll come begging. I set the phone down. Victor was bleeding out. And he still hadn’t learned the most important lesson. Control isn’t something you fight for. It’s something you take. And when you lose it… You beg to get it back. My phone buzzed again. This time a message from the board. You win this round. The pill. The SEC. The leaks. You’ve got him cornered. But this isn’t over. Victor will fight. Just know what you are doing.

We trained until the sun bled across the sky—sparring, shifting, running the border line until my muscles sang and my wolf howled with joy. When we finally collapsed in the grass, sweaty and laughing, Victor rolled on top of me and kissed me stupid. “You’re magnificent,” he panted against my lips. I wrapped my legs around him. “Take me home and prove it.” He did. Twice. Later, showered and curled on the couch, Victor’s phone buzzed. Jax’s name flashed on the screen. Victor put it on speaker. “Alpha,” Jax said, voice tight. “Silver Ridge’s remaining loyalists just tried to break Damien out of holding. They failed. Three dead, two in custody. But one got away—headed east with a message.”

A brother she’d only just found. A grandfather drowning in regret. And the man she loved. Broken. Bleeding. Still refusing to let go of her hand. For the first time… She wasn’t alone. A guard hurried into the room. “Sir.” Victor turned. “What is it?” “The vault.” His expression tightened. “What about it?” “It’s open.” Nobody moved. Victor frowned. “Impossible.” “I locked it myself.” The guard swallowed. “You should see it.” The group exchanged uneasy glances before following him.

He had just admitted to orchestrating Marcus Hale’s prison escape and the subsequent attack on our penthouse, all on the record, in front of the judge, jury, and the entire world. And he looked proud of it. I clutched my massive belly with both hands, heart hammering as one of our daughters kicked hard enough to make me wince. Damien’s eyes found mine across the chaos — dark, victorious, and burning with lethal promise. The not-guilty verdict on the murder charge still echoed, but Victor had just handed the prosecution a new weapon on a silver platter. The judge slammed her gavel repeatedly. “Order! Bailiffs, take Mr. Victor Voss into custody!”