Chapter One — The Strip Never Sleeps
night was alive, humming like a broken neon sign.
Vegas didn’t rest; it just changed masks.
The tourists were gone, the dreamers were broke, and the addicts were wide awakeit just changed masks.
The tourists were gone, the dreamers were broke, and the addicts were wide awake.Eddie stumbled down Fremont Street, his hoodie soaked from the mist that rose off the asphalt. The lights above him flickered — reds, blues, golds — each one whispering promises he’d already believed too many times. He’d told himself he could quit. He’d told himself he could quit. He’d told himself he could leave. But Vegas didn’t let go. It wrapped around him like smoke, sweet and suffocatingA woman sat against the wall of a pawn shop, her mascara streaked, her hands trembling around a cigarette that had burned down to the filter. She looked up at Eddie and smiled — not because she recognized him, but because she recognized the look. The lost look. The one that said I’m still here, but I don’t know why.The Strip stretched ahead, glowing like heaven and hell at the Every light was a lie.
Every shadow was a truth.Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
He didn’t know where he was going — only that he couldn’t stop.
In Vegas, nobody ever really stops.
They just keep moving until the lights swallow them whole.e
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