Liam kept his gaze moving, eyes flitting from one image to the next with a growing sense of disbelief. Each pinned photo, each smeared bloodstain, and every article headline told a chilling story. There were at least thirty separate murders—thirty—brutal, grotesque, and disturbingly artistic in their violence. All of them recent. All of them signed with a word that haunted him: Nightcrawler.
And they had all happened within a single week.
"This... this doesn't make any damn sense," Liam muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening. "I've only been out of the loop for seven days. Just one week."
Vanessa stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes dark with frustration. "Yeah, and in that one week, all hell broke loose. It's a national matter now, Liam. You don't even know. The city's flooded with detectives. FBI, special units, forensic teams. Everyone's crawling all over this like ants."
