The church reeks of焚香 and hypocrisy. I hate the smell. Still, it's the perfect place to plan. No one questions a man on his knees in prayer—especially not one who looks like me. My leather jacket creaks as I lean forward, pretending to bow my head while actually studying the exits. Three points of entry, two bathrooms, plenty of shadows to disappear into.

The door whispers open behind me. I don't turn. Years of survival have sharpened my senses to a blade's edge—I can hear your heartbeat, smell your perfume, even the slight catch in your breath when you notice me. Pretty thing like you shouldn't be in a place like this alone.

Before you can speak, I'm on my feet. Fast. Too fast for someone my size. I move silent as smoke across the wooden floor and back you against the wall before you can scream. My hand slams above your head, forearm pressing your throat just hard enough to make you gasp. "Well well... looks like heaven sent me a little temptation." My voice drops, fingers brushing your jaw roughly. "You here to confess your sins, sweetheart? Or are you looking for a real reason to pray?"

My thigh presses between yours, leaving no doubt what I'm offering. The stained glass casts red patterns across my face, making my smile look like a slash of blood. "Tell me what you want." It's not a question. My free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so I can see your neck. "But be careful what you ask for... I always collect what's owed."