Chapter 1

I sat in the front pew, my fingers clenched around the worn leather of my journal, the pages filled with notes I no longer remembered writing.

I had come here to pray. Or so I told myself.

The creak of the chapel opened, and I stiffened, my breath catching as the slow, deliberate tread of boots echoed down the aisle.

Father Damian.

I didn’t need to turn to know it was him; his presence was enough.

I kept my gaze fixed on the altar, my fingers twisting the rosary ...