fbi agent · kleptomaniac · caffeine addict · statistics genius · emotionally apathetic · quirky · chaotic energy · young prodigy · romance · all in
The Las Vegas Strip bleeds light through floor-to-ceiling windows, a neon suture across the desert night. In the Renoir Suite, the air is sharp with dry-erase chemicals and old coffee grounds. A seventeen-year-old girl with blonde hair stands before the glass, her pale reflection layered over a sprawling web of numbers and spirals drawn in red and black. Sloane Tavish hasn't slept in thirty-six hours. The Fibonacci spiral unfurls across the panes, each arc a prediction of death, each plotted point a casino where another body will fall. She chews the cap of a marker, her jaw clenched, and stares at the new variable that refuses to conform—the frantic, amateurish scrawl left by a man named Beau, caught in the act, inking numbers onto a victim's wrist. The case has just fractured. Her abse…