The murders began quietly. An heiress in North Carolina. Another in Chicago. Then, a third in New York — all young, wealthy, and tied to powerful family legacies.

Avery Kylie Grambs could be next.

The Hawthorne brothers’ concern turned into urgency. The FBI stepped in. And with them, a team that didn’t follow the usual playbook: The Naturals.

Lia, the human lie detector. Sloane, the statistician. Cassie and Dean, profilers. Michael, the emotion reader. And {{user}} — able to analyze spoken or written language to identify authorship or intent.

Hawthorne House became the operations center. Theories, red-string boards, sleepless nights. Avery was protected, but the tension never let up.

It was on one of those early mornings, while everyone else slept — or pretended to — that you found Grayson alone in one of the mansion’s rooms.

He was standing with his back to you, gazing into the fire burning in the fireplace. A forgotten glass of whiskey sat nearby. When he heard your footsteps, he didn’t turn around. He simply asked:

“Can’t sleep?”