Page 3 of Twisted Redemption

I let myself look at him, waiting for his hatred for me to burn in his eyes. But before it does, Alex shoots out of his seat.

“Fuck off, Tristan.” His voice is low, threatening—just the way it was the last time he spoke to our father. He’s glaring at Tristan, who has his hand on Sophia’s shoulder.

“Actually, I’d like to make a little deal with you, Hendricks.” Tristan’s grip tightens on Sophia’s shoulder as she tries to squirm away.

Blaze tenses next to me, and before I can stop myself, I place my hand over his. He may have the skills to knock out Tristan before the guy would even know what hit him, but escalating this situation won’t do any good.

“What?” Alex snaps, disgusted. He’s glaring at Tristan, and for a moment I wonder if he’s the one I should be trying to calm down instead of Blaze.

“How about a little tennis? I’d love to whoop your ass in front of all your mother’s friends.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex steps forward. “Or you could just fuck off.”

“Hear me out,” Tristan says in a friendly voice. Too friendly. “If I win, I get to take your pretty little girlfriend on a date. I’m sure I can show her a better time than you can. If I lose, I’ll leave this sorry excuse for a brunch so you can enjoy your morning in peace.”

Pretty little girlfriend.

My stomach turns as a memory of Francis talking to my ex-fiancé enters my mind:

“I’m glad you found her, David. She’ll look good on your arm. And I’m sure she’ll give you beautiful children.”

My fingernails dig into my palms as that all-too-familiar feeling returns. The one that leaves me with the need to scrub my skin until it’s bleeding, to prove that I’m worthy of being alive, of being a whole person—not just an object to be passed from man to man.

Sophia sputters. “I’m not anyone’s pretty little anything. And neither of you can throw me around like a fucking toy.” She starts to stand, but Tristan shoves her back down.

The feeling intensifies, my skin prickling.

Why do men have to be... men?

This time, it’s Blaze squeezing my hand as Dominic stands, throwing his napkin on the table. But Alex is slightly closer, and he rips Tristan’s hand off Sophia, twisting it behind his back.

“Touch her again, and you’ll regret it,” he growls. The darkness has returned to his eyes, the one that shows up whenever I mention Francis or he notices me not eating enough.

“Boys! What’s going on?” My mother’s sickly-sweet voice pierces the tension. She frowns at Alex, who still has Tristan’s arm locked behind him.

“Oh, I was just challenging Alex here to a friendly game of tennis. He didn’t seem too happy about it.” Tristan gives her a smile that’s so fake it makes me want to puke. “Probably afraid he’ll lose.”

“Oh, seriously, Alex? Just play the game. No need for things to get violent.”

He starts to protest, but Everly waves him off. “Go. It’ll be fun to see. I haven’t watched you play in quite some time.”

Alex storms off, but not before throwing Sophia a concerned glance. Tristan follows him, and Everly laughs, rolling her eyes.

“Boys will be boys,” Everly says to her guests before bustling back to her table.

Sophia rubs her shoulder, wincing slightly.

Dominic kneels next to her. “You all right?”

“Just pissed,” Sophia says. “Who the fuck does Tristan think he is? I’m not an object, and Xander doesn’t own me.”

“That’s not a concept misogynists can grasp,” I say, barely managing to keep my voice even. Fuck. I need to get out of here before my emotions get the better of me.

“Brooke,” Blaze says, quietly enough that I’m the only one who hears. Why is he being kind to me now?

But I’m already standing and heading back up the stairs. As I step inside, a wall of cool air hits me. Everly always keeps the air conditioning on full blast, and while I usually hate it, I’m hoping it’ll help calm me down right now.

There are a few people chatting in the living room, probably waiting for the bathroom, so I rush toward a different part of the house. The office, maybe—it has a lock on the door.

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