CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The hospital morgue was silent.
Luna lay inside one of the frozen metal drawers where the dead were kept. No staff. No footsteps. No sound.
Then—
Her eyes snapped open.
They were no longer human—dark as the void itself.
The temperature in the room plummeted. The lights flickered, then died. Darkness swallowed the morgue as objects began to float, freed from gravity itself.
The metal drawer shattered—without a sound.
Luna's body rose into the air, her arms spread wide. Her skin was deathly gray, stiff and cold, but slowly—very slowly—color began to return, as if the air itself was feeding life back into her flesh.
She descended gently, bare feet touching the floor.
Her eyes shifted back to their deep brown hue.
The dark aura scattered like mist blown away by the wind.
Luna inhaled.
Her gaze wasn't filled with rage.
It was worse.
Wrath.
A wicked smile curved her lips.
"I'm back from the dead, Klaus."
