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She doesn't chase the spotlight. She knows it will always find her first.

She steps out of the back of the town car, the click of her heels a metronome against the wet asphalt. The rain has just stopped, leaving the streets slick as glass, reflecting the fractured lights of closed pawn shops and 24-hour diners. She doesn’t look at the reflection. She becomes it.

The neon hum of the city at 2 a.m. is a frequency most people never learn to hear. But Lexi Sindel knows it by heart.

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Lexi Sindel -

She doesn't chase the spotlight. She knows it will always find her first.

She steps out of the back of the town car, the click of her heels a metronome against the wet asphalt. The rain has just stopped, leaving the streets slick as glass, reflecting the fractured lights of closed pawn shops and 24-hour diners. She doesn’t look at the reflection. She becomes it.

The neon hum of the city at 2 a.m. is a frequency most people never learn to hear. But Lexi Sindel knows it by heart.