Chapter 3

I shot up in bed and tapped the link Liam had sent.

On the screen, Kingsley was holding her smartphone, the stark, unmistakable background behind her sending a chill down my spine: the subterranean morgue at Boston General. My workplace.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm Kingsley, PR Assistant for the Boston Police Department," she crooned, wiping away a fake tear for the camera. "Recently, our city has seen a string of bizarre deaths, including the poor son of my superior, Leo. The police have been at a dead end, but as an insider, I have to step up and expose the truth."

The camera panned. Declan stepped into the frame, dressed in full uniform, his expression grave and somber.

"Through our covert investigations, we've determined that a cult is behind this," Declan lied through his teeth with absolute conviction. "They've been using the hospital morgue for their rituals. To protect the citizens of this city, we've decided to make our investigation public."

The live chat exploded in real-time, the viewer count skyrocketing.

"Oh my god! If a cop is saying it, it must be true!"

"Find these cultists and burn them at the stake!"

"So much respect for this brave cop and the PR girl!"

Staring at the screen, the blood rushed to my head. Not only were they publicly spewing superstitious garbage and inciting a digital lynch mob, but they had also illegally trespassed into the most restricted sector of the Medical Examiner's Office!

That morgue housed bodies and crucial forensic evidence from multiple open homicide cases. Their stunt was enough to slap the entire precinct with a federal indictment from the FBI!

The sheer absurdity peaked when Kingsley pulled out the bloodstained cloth doll—the very one with Leo's name on it—claiming it was "cult evidence" discovered in an orderly's locker.

This is going to get someone killed. I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door. The rabid internet mob they were whipping into a frenzy would absolutely doxx and physically assault whatever innocent hospital staffer they had just framed.

By the time I reached the morgue, the livestream was reaching its climax. Kingsley was reaching for the handle of a freezer unit currently housing a key homicide victim, claiming there were "cult markings" inside.

"Stop right there!" I kicked the morgue doors open and roared.

Kingsley jumped out of her skin, almost dropping the phone. Declan whipped around. Seeing me, his brow instantly knotted into a furious scowl.

"Maeve? What the hell are you doing here?! Get out, this is official police business!" Declan strode over, trying to block the camera's view.

"Police business? You're contaminating a crime scene, fabricating evidence, and inciting a riot!" I lunged forward to snatch the phone from Kingsley's hand.

Seeing my move, Kingsley suddenly let out a shrill scream and crumpled to the floor, clutching her belly. "Ah! My baby... Declan, she pushed me! She's trying to kill our baby!"

I hadn't even laid a finger on her.

But her performance was the fuse. The live chat spiraled into absolute madness.

"Turn the camera away!" Declan barked at Kingsley.

Before I could even scream for help, his heavy hand clamped hard over my mouth. Ignoring my violent struggles, he dragged me toward the back of the morgue—into the backup freezer room specifically used for highly decomposed bodies.

To guarantee the phone's microphone wouldn't pick up a single sound I made, he locked his eyes onto the row of cadaver fridges.

He brutally slammed me against the steel doors. The freezing metal struck my already-injured back, tearing a muffled groan of agony from my throat.

Declan's eyes flashed with venom. He yanked open an empty body compartment, scooped me up by the waist, and shoved me roughly inside.

"Declan! Are you insane?! Let me out!" All the color washed from my face in pure terror.

"Cut the act. You're an ME, you're not scared of this place. Cool off in here for a bit! I'll let you out when we're off the air!" Declan mercilessly pried my gripping fingers off the edge, slammed the heavy steel door shut, and threw the external latch.

The second the door sealed shut, all light and sound were instantly obliterated. In the claustrophobic steel coffin, there was nothing but the eerie hum of the refrigeration unit. Bone-chilling air immediately enveloped me from every direction.

I hammered frantically against the heavy steel, screaming for help at the top of my lungs.

Outside, Declan helped Kingsley to her feet.

"Sorry about that, guys! That crazy bitch is a cult sympathizer, but I've subdued her. We're logging off now to celebrate tonight's breakthrough!"

They flipped off the morgue lights, laughing and talking as they walked out—completely forgetting the living, breathing human being they had just locked inside a cadaver fridge.

As time crawled by, the temperature in the steel box plummeted. My breath began to frost. My hands and feet gradually lost all sensation. In the pitch black, I could physically smell the scent of death.

At noon the next day, a severely hungover Declan finally rolled out of bed.

Grinning at the viral metrics of their livestream on his phone, his smile suddenly froze, shattering into sheer horror—he had left Maeve in the freezer. All night.

Over a dozen hours had passed. Anyone locked in there would be nothing but a frozen solid corpse by now!

Terrified out of his mind, Declan didn't even bother to button his shirt. He grabbed his keys and sped all the way back to the hospital like a madman.

Drenched in cold sweat, he burst into the subterranean morgue. With violently shaking hands, he unlatched and yanked open the freezer door.

But the sliding tray was empty.

There was no frozen body. Only a few shocking, bloody scratch marks gouged into the interior steel door... and a single wedding ring.