The Storm and the Sinner.
The rain was getting heavy, icy drops hammered the pavement, bouncing up from the stone in splashes. The wind pushed Eva's hood back, letting the downpour soak her hair until strands clung to her cheeks.
She should have run for a taxi or she should have gone anywhere else.
Instead, her gaze snagged on the faint, flickering neon cross in the distance. It was a church.
It wasn’t faith that pulled her, it wasn't guilt, not exactly.
It was that gnawing, restless ache that had been with her for week, the kind you can’t ease alone no matter how hard you try.
She pushed the doors open. The air inside was cool and faintly scented with candle wax and incense, a sharp contrast to the raw, wet chill outside.
The was a shadow pooled in the corners with a single candle
