"Then Peter came to Him and said, 'Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? Up to seven times?'"
— Matthew 18:21
Part I – Mercy Has a Limit
It was 3:00 a.m.
Samuel walked through the abandoned cemetery north of the city. Graves lay beneath the pale light of the moon, covered in moss and sepulchral silence. The wind moved dry branches like bony fingers.
In the middle of that ghostly scene, a man was tied to an old cross, face up, trembling with fear.
"Do you know why you're here?" Samuel asked, his voice calm but cold.
The man, sweaty and shaking, shook his head.
"I… I haven't done anything wrong…"
Samuel removed his hood. His face was known to thousands, but not in this moment. Not like this.
"You were Lorenzo Marquez's driver that night," he said. "The night they murdered my family."
The man paled.
"I was only driving! I didn't kill anyone!"
"But you watched my mother die," Samuel replied, pointing the gun at his chest. "And you did nothing."
A heavy silence followed. The wind passed between the graves as if carrying the laments of the dead.
"Confess," Samuel ordered. "Confess Jesus Christ as your Savior… and find peace."
"I do! I do!" the man screamed. "Jesus is my Lord! I swear it!"
Samuel lowered the weapon for a moment. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.
"Then, my son…" he said. "Receive your reward."
And he pulled the trigger.
Part II – The Light That Shouldn't Shine
The next day, at the church, Samuel greeted the faithful at the main entrance. He smiled kindly, blessed the children, and helped the elderly climb the steps.
A woman watched from a distance. Rebecca Hart. Investigative journalist. Sharp eyes. Penetrating gaze. She carried a black notebook and a camera slung over her shoulder.
She approached slowly.
"Precious Book," she said with a sweet voice. "Do you have a moment?"
He looked at her. He hadn't seen her before.
"Of course, daughter. How may I serve you?"
"I'm a reporter for the New York Chronicle. I'm working on an article about how religious leaders are helping fight corruption in the city. I'd love to ask you a few questions."
Samuel smiled, though something inside tensed.
"Of course. You're welcome to come in. We have a community prayer service today. It will be an honor to have you here."
Rebecca nodded, but didn't look away from him.
"There's something strange about you," she thought. "Something hidden behind that smile."
During the sermon, she took quick notes. She listened carefully to every word the pastor spoke.
"Today we will speak," Samuel began, "of God's grace. Of how even the most sinful can find forgiveness… if they choose to accept it."
He looked at Rebecca without meaning to, but their eyes met.
For a moment, he felt someone truly seeing him. As if the mask had begun to crack.
But he pressed on.
"Brothers and sisters, let us not forget that forgiveness is not a condition for justice. Sometimes, there are souls who must face the weight of their actions… before they can receive salvation."
Rebecca wrote that in her notebook:
"Justiciar or servant of God? The Pastor speaks of redemption… but also of punishment."
Part III – The Cop and the Sinner
Meanwhile, at the precinct, Lucas Kane interrogated a criminal arrested during a nighttime raid. A young man, no older than twenty. Shaking like a leaf.
"Tell me who killed Victor Lang," Lucas demanded. "We know he was executed. And we know it wasn't the mob."
"I don't know who that is," the boy lied.
Lucas stared at him.
"Listen to me. If you don't tell me the truth, you'll stay here until you go bald. But if you cooperate… maybe I can save your ass."
The boy swallowed hard.
"There was… there was someone. A man dressed all in black. With a Bible. He said he was a pastor."
Lucas frowned.
"A pastor?"
"Yeah… he said everyone needs to confess Jesus before they die. That he'd give them one last chance."
Lucas stood slowly. He walked to the window. His hands trembled.
"A pastor killing mobsters?"
"Can't be a coincidence…"
He went back to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a wrinkled old newspaper with a note about another similar murder days earlier.
"Mysterious vigilante continues attacks. Victim found with a Bible nearby."
No photo. No name. Just rumors.
"No one knows who he is," Lucas muttered to himself. "Not even the press has anything solid."
He turned back to the boy.
"Has anyone else seen him?"
"Just a few. Some survived. Others… didn't."
Lucas closed the case folder.
"This isn't over," he said. "Whoever this man is… he's playing God."
Part IV – Bloody Memories
That night, while preparing for his next mission, Samuel dreamed awake.
He was in his office, facing the window. Outside, the city slept. Inside, only he and his demons remained.
He closed his eyes and saw images that would never leave him.
His father preaching before a small rural congregation.
His mother praying beside the dinner table.
His brothers playing with stones in the garden.
Then… the sound of gunfire.
A door kicked down. Screams. Blood.
He remembered hiding in the closet. Listening as they killed his mother screaming:
"Jesus loves you!"
How his father tried to protect the children, begging:
"Take me, let them go!"
But they didn't let him go.
Samuel buried his face in his hands. Tears fell uncontrollably.
"Forgive me, Father," he whispered. "Forgive me for not being enough to save you."
He closed his eyes. Took his Bible. Put on the hood.
"Tonight, more than ever… I will continue Your work."
"For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."
— Matthew 6:21