He killed a man to save her. Now she has come to destroy him. I was supposed to walk away clean. One dead man. One broken woman. And a whole lot of blood on my hands. I never asked to be her savior. I damn sure wasn’t looking to be a priest. But penance tastes better than prison, and hiding in a collar kept my past where it belonged—six feet under. That is…until she showed up. In my church. On her knees. Now the woman I saved is playing the saint, whispering scripture while dragging hell back to my doorstep. I can’t recognize her. I can’t prove it’s her. But my body can. The way she looks at me? She knows exactly who I am. The worst part? I want her to ruin me. Sayuri: He was my salvation. And my destruction. He killed my husband and vanished, leaving me to take the fall. For years, I dreamed of finding him. Not to thank him. To burn him. Break him. Watch him bleed like I have all these years. Now I have found him again, preaching sermons in some forgotten little church, hiding behind stained glass and God’s mercy like it could save him. I’ve joined the flock. Become his disciple. Learned every way to tempt a priest into sin. But I wasn’t ready for this man. Not his hands. Not his guilt. Not the way he says my name like a sinful confession. I came here to destroy him, to show him the darkness he thought he could outrun…so why am I feeling the burn of the flames meant for him?