Page 51 of Redeemed

“Yeah,” I mumble.

I realize Athelia has fallen behind—no surprise, considering everything littering the walls is exactly her vibe. It’s mine, too, but I’m too shaken to enjoy it right now. Still, I don’t want to lose her, so I slow down so she can catch up.

Right next to the entrance to the kitchen, a large painting hangs at eye-level, and my feet freeze at the sight of it. It’s of a small, white church on a sunny day. The sky is a bright blue, marred by the thick, dark smoke billowing from the church. Flames consume the building, licking up the sides. Through one of the windows, a burning cross on the wall isjustvisible.

It looks nothing like the church at Cornerstone, but it still sends me back in time. Just like that, I’m a little girl again, kneeling in the empty sanctuary and begging God to forgive me for my sins. I was so convinced he wouldn’t—that my sins were somehow worse than everyone else’s. That I was destined to fall from his grace.

Some would say that, in a way, that fear came true. It didn’t, though.

I didn’t fall from God’s grace.

He fell from mine.

Absentmindedly, I run my hands over my outfit—a tight, black crop top, a black skirt that stops mid-thigh, fishnets, and black boots. My mother would cry if she saw me like this, and the white, upside-down crosses on my skirt only make it worse. Throw in the fact that my shirt is low enough to show off my tattooandsome boob? God, she’d die of a heart attack.

Athelia accidentally bumps into me, and when she sees the look on my face, she frowns. “You good?”

“Yeah. I was just… thinking.” My gaze falls to the title in the bottom corner of the painting, and I trace over it. “Retribution. How fitting.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Athelia and Angie exchange a concerned glance. Angie doesn’t know much about my past, but Athelia does—although there’s still so much I’ve kept to myself. I’ve told her about Beckham’s teachings, about the role I was supposed to fill as a wife and a mother. During a weak moment early on, I even confessed to her what Isaiah did to me.

Gently, Athelia nudges me. “Hey. Don’t let your mind go there. Tonight is about having fun, remember?”

With a hard swallow, I turn away from the painting and force myself to focus on Athelia’s face. “Right. Yeah, let’s just… forget, okay?”

Angie grins, taking both our hands and pulling us into the kitchen. “Sounds good to me.”

Halfway to the drinks, we pass by three guys in hoodies and glowing, neon masks. Athelia seems disturbed by them, so I push her in front of me to get her away from them.

The counter is filled with booze and mixers, and I make myself a drink much stronger than I normally go for. Before Athelia and Angie have finished making theirs, I’ve already gulped half of mine down.

I just want to forget.

“Has anyone figured out who put this on?” Athelia yells over the music.

Shaking her head, Angie says, “I’m just rolling with it. This is a blast. I hope they do it again next year. Ohhhh! Riley! Bailey! Hiiii!”

Raising my cup to my lips for another sip, I watch Angie run off. But I freeze at the sight of what’s behind her friends. Or, more so,who.

Lucas and Xander are talking and laughing, but Colton is watching me. He’s not glaring, but when I meet his eyes, that changes. My heart stops at the fire in his gaze.

So much for avoiding them.

Athelia touches my arm. “Are you—” She stops when she notices Colton stalking toward us. “We’re getting the hell out of here.”

Before I can protest, Athelia is dragging me through the house and toward the front door. I’m worried Colton will catch up to us, but when I look back, one of those guys with the neon masks stops him.

Athelia charges through the crowd and doesn’t stop until we’re outside. Only then does she let me pull my arm from her grasp.

“I don’t want to leave,” I protest, and I mean it. Fuck those boys—thosebullies—for trying to ruin my night.

Maybe I should ruintheirsfor a change.

“You’re not going to be able to enjoy yourself,” Athelia says flatly, and I can hear what she’s not saying:

This was a mistake.

“I can,” I say, even though I’m not sure that’s true. But I have to try. “He’s not ruining this for me. I’m so tired of men controlling my life, Thelia.”

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