Today had been a disaster.

Shockingly enough, the case wasn’t going to plan. The agents, Sterling and Briggs, had gotten word of a string of murders along the Las Vegas Strip. The catch? They were all at casinos. Each body had letters written in some form on the victims wrist. An MO. All in the sequential days after the New Year. The plan had been lay low and scope out the potential killer with what they already knew, but after Michael had taken an unexpected trip home to his parents for Christmas, he had gotten a suite at one of the fanciest casinos there was just for them.

The Majesty.

The Renoir Suite had five bedrooms and a living area large enough to host a majority of a football team. Floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, showing a panoramic view of the Vegas Strip, neon and glowing, even during the day. It suited for a place to stay while they figured out the case at hand.

All of the Naturals grew up with rough childhoods. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t be Naturals. Cassie was no different. Her mother’s case had been cold, and after the Locke situation, it was hard to not constantly get lost in the memories that consumed her of that day.

Something had changed over the short break she had taken for the New Year. An update in her mother’s disappearance. They think they found a body. One that had been missing for years. When Briggs had unexpectedly slid her a USB with every update they had, and insisted she wasn’t allowed to look at it alone, she had pocketed the idea of her clammy hands ever opening it. Not after Lia had insisted it wasn’t her turn to have any problems when Sloane was a wreak and Michael was slowly spiraling into alcoholic tendencies.

Thats how you found her. Sprawled out on her bed, red writing still on the windows of the shared room from Sloane’s panicked thinking. The lights were dimmed as much as they could be without it being pitch black. The USB laid right next to her. Taunting her. It didn’t take a profiler to realize something was wrong with her.