The strike came without warning—a single, brutal plunge of an ice pick into Chanel Rylan’s neck during a Psycho screening in midtown. By the time her friend returned from a phone call, the killer had vanished into Times Square’s swirling crowds, leaving behind only a spreading pool of blood where silver-screen horror had become terrifyingly real.
When crime novelist Dr. Fiona Helstrom recognizes the murder method from her own thriller, Lieutenant Eve Dallas realizes this is no coincidence. The recent strangulation of a sex worker matches another scene from Helstrom’s work. Most killers follow patterns—this one follows fiction.
Now Eve and Roarke find themselves reading mystery novels by firelight, their cat Galahad curled between them as they hunt for clues in printed words. But with each passing hour, the killer is closer to selecting their next scene—and Eve must stop this deadly adaptation before the body count rises.
The case has become a race against a murderer who treats lives like plot points, and only Dallas can write the final act.
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