The ruined church in Roccastrada stabs up from the mud like a rotten fang against the gaping maw of the storm-black sky. Rain pelts my face as I take my feet off the bike pedals, letting momentum carry me the last few yards through squelching, ankle-deep mud.
Of course it’s here. When the coordinates from Kosti’s phone dropped a pin on the map at this spot, I could only laugh out loud.
Almost ten weeks ago, Ariel and I sat in the pew here and I asked her to marry me.
These babies aren’t your redemption arc, she told me then.
She was right. They’re not. Jasmine is not. She is not.
But does that mean I cannot be redeemed?
Fuck if I know. It’s not like my mind is clear enough to sort through things like that right now. I’m a half-drowned rat. The ride here was a wet, frigid hell and my
