Anna’s breath caught in her throat as the impossible unfolded before her eyes. The corpse’s cold hand twitched, its stiff fingers tightening ever so slightly around the ring she had been trying to take. Panic surged through her body, her pulse hammering as though it might tear through her chest.
She staggered backward, her wide eyes locked on the lifeless figure laid out before her. The morgue’s silence pressed in like a suffocating blanket, broken only by the rasp of her own frantic breathing. Every shadow seemed alive, every corner filled with invisible eyes.
Had the dead just reached out to warn her? The thought sent chills down her spine. Anna had always dismissed superstition as nonsense, yet here she was, trembling in the face of what felt like a message from beyond the grave. The dead man’s hand had moved—there was no denying it.
Her grip tightened on the metal table, the cold steel biting into her trembling fingers as she fought to steady herself. The promise of riches and escape that had lured her here now seemed distant, almost foolish. Something far greater—darker—was unfolding before her, and she had no choice but to face it.
But what did it mean? Was it a trick of her imagination, or a warning she could not afford to ignore?
