Dead Again at Sentinel Point

Marcus watches the dorm explode—twenty-seven students vaporized in a ball of fire—then wakes up to the same morning alarm. Again. One of his kids is the killer, and he's got until nightfall to find them before they all burn. Every loop, he changes one move. Every loop, the enemy counters. There's another precog on the other side, someone who sees his plays before he makes them, and they're turning his own students into a death trap he can't escape. The bomber's sitting in his classroom right now—smiling, taking notes, pretending to be just another rookie mage. He's got no backup, no time, and no idea which face in the crowd is the one holding the detonator. Worse: the harder he fights to save them, the faster he's unraveling—because saving people who die in front of you a hundred times is just another kind of dying. How many loops does it take before a good man stops caring who lives, and only wants to watch the traitor burn?