Sinner by Ted Dekker

for the rear door.
    A hand slammed into her back, shoving her forward. The flip-flops had dried, but they weren’t made for running. She tripped over her own feet as she tried to catch herself, slammed to the floor, and rolled to avoid a vicious kick.
    One of the boys fell on her—his mistake, because he could have just as easily kept her down with his boots. But Kat was best close in, where her claws and teeth became effective weapons.
    Screaming, she grabbed the boy by his hair and jerked his head closer. She got her teeth on his chin and bit hard.
    He howled and rolled off, leaving a chunk of his skin behind. Kat spat it out and rolled to her feet, energized by her small victory.
    â€œIs that all the power your God gave you?” she cried. “You can’t lick one stinking witch!”
    Five of them descended on her at once, and she knew that she was in real trouble now. A fist smashed into her back. Another struck the side of her head.
    She kicked hard, felt her heel connect with a bone. Heard it snap.
    â€œEnough!”
    The voice rang through the rafters from behind her attackers. As one, the Muslims spun to face it. In the doorway stood a white-collared priest dressed in jeans, black boots, and jacket. Tall, blond, and at first glance Kat could see that he was well built under his loose-fitting clothes. He wore dark sunglasses despite the dim light.
    â€œGet away from the girl.”
    Asad clearly wasn’t ready to release the woman who’d bloodied him, bitten off one friend’s chin, and broken the bone of another, who was cradling his left arm.
    â€œTrust me, son, you don’t want me to tell you again. Get your hands off the girl and leave this building before I lose my patience.”
    Asad released her shoulder.
    â€œLeave,” the man said.
    The boy nodded at his friends, then looked at Kat. “Hide behind his collar today. Tomorrow is a new day, witch.”
    They left reluctantly out the back door, wearing scowls.
    Kat walked toward him, mind swelling with the judge’s words. “I’m sorry, Father, I swear I didn’t start that. We can keep this to ourselves. Right?”
    The man pulled off his white collar, turned, and left the room. What kind of priest would do such thing? She’d just been assaulted, for heaven’s sake! Kat walked after him.
    â€œHey! Did you see what happened in there? You saw it, right?”
    He walked down the hall.
    â€œListen to me!” she shouted.
    The man reached for the door that led into the main atrium and turned back. “The whole world is listening, Katrina Kivi.”
    Only then did she see the camera mounted in the corner above him. Of course, for legal reasons, every move in this publicly funded facility was captured on film. Including the violence she’d leveled at the Muslims, regardless of how justified.
    â€œThen help me,” she said. “You’re a priest, please help me.”
    â€œI’m not a priest. But I do know your case, and I know that help is the last thing you want. A few months in prison might adjust your attitude.”
    Kat stood trembling with rage. She had the right to defend herself from extremists like Asad. For that matter she’d had the right to break Leila’s jaw. She would be completely within her rights to slap this fellow for his arrogance.
    Her anger was pointless, she realized, and as soon as she did, it was replaced by thoughts of prison.
    â€œThen why did you save me?”
    â€œBecause you need saving. But the judge will see the video feed and she will stay true to her word.”
    â€œI had no choice!”
    â€œYou could have run.”
    â€œI don’t run.”
    â€œNo. You fight.” The man stared at her through his dark glasses, hand still on the door handle. “It’s a pity.”
    â€œYou pity me standing up to them?”
    â€œI pity you for standing up for your pitiful self.” He opened the door and