Page 62 of Redeemed

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Marie says.

“Okay, thanks.”

In desperation, I check my phone one last time, and my knees almost buckle with relief when I see Athelia’s name on my screen.

Athelia:Hey, sorry I worried you. I ended up leaving with a guy and couldn’t find you to let you know. It’s my bad, I should’ve texted you.

Haven:OH THANK GOD

Haven:I was SO worried

Haven:Tell me about it tomorrow?

Athelia:Sounds great!

I shove my phone into my pocket with a sigh of relief. If she went home with a guy, that means she won’t be coming here tonight, which means Isaiah won’t hurt her.

As for me…

I can’t stay here. Not if Isaiah knows this is my dorm, which he obviously does. I glance the way I came, and then down the hallway the other way. Should I take the side door? What if that’s what he did? What if he’s outside, watching, waiting for me to show up?

Oh god. Oh my god. What if I actuallydidsee him in the library earlier?

“Hey, are you okay? You look really pale.”

“Fine. I’m fine. I just… I have to go.”

Marie calls after me, but I’m already stumbling down the hallway. My legs burn, my lungs ache, and my head is pounding, but I don’t stop. Running from Colton just turned into literally running for my life.

I opt for the side door, figuring that if Isaiah is watching, he’ll pick the entrance that gets used the most. I burst onto the sidewalk and immediately crash into someone else.

“Sorry,” he blurts, and that voice—I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Oh no.

I was wrong.

Before Isaiah can see my face, I scramble back through the still-open door and shove it closed. Just as it latches, I make eye contact with Isaiah through the window. He looks confused, and I realize with relief that he doesn’t recognize me.

I back away, running through my limited options of escape. I know I need to turn around and hide my face from him, but I can’t stop staring at him. He looks older, angrier. His body has filled out, his muscles larger than I remember them being.

My stomach sinks. I already couldn’t defend myself against him. It’ll be even worse now.

Isaiah watches me with narrowed eyes, and just when I think I’m in the clear, his lips part in shock.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

“Heaven?” he asks in disbelief. “What onearthare you wearing?”

I stumble backward. He tries to open the door, but it doesn’t give. My initial worry that he got his hands on a student key card dissolves, but it only helps for a moment. Because somehow, he still got in, which means someonelethim in.

“Heaven, it’s time to come home,” he says calmly, but I don’t miss the thinly veiled rage he thinks he’s hiding.

I never miss it.

Slowly, I shake my head, moving farther away from my husband.

“Open the door,” he shouts, trying to jerk it open, but the lock holds.

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