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 ...