My pulse hammers in my throat. We had been waiting almost a week to hear back. Gabriel’s tumbler—one of the only pieces of evidence we had left—has been a mystery none of us could solve.

Morgan’s voice is steady, but after spending the last few weeks getting to know her, I could hear the slight edge beneath it. “And?”

There’s a brief rustling of papers. Then—

“The residue in the tumbler was elderberries.”

I barely registered the way Theo sits up straighter or the way Orion curses under his breath.

Elderberries.

The silence stretches for a beat too long, thick and suffocating.

Morgan is the first to recover. “Do you know what type of elderberries?”

There’s another rustling of papers on the other end of the line. “The sample traces back to Sambucus nigra—commonly known as black elderberry. But here’s the thing, Morgan.” The woman hesitates for a fraction of a second before continuing. “The specific compounds present indicate that these weren’t commercially processed elderberries. They came from a wild source.”

Morgan’s brow furrows. “Meaning?”

“Meaning they weren’t properly prepared. Raw elderberries—especially from certain wild strains—contain toxic levels of cyanogenic glycosides. When ingested, the body converts those compounds into cyanide.”

Cyanide.

The word slams into my chest with the force of a freight train.

It wasn’t just elderberries. It was poison.

I see it in the way Theo’s jaw clenched, the way Orion goes unnervingly still, and the way Bennett’s fingers curl into a tight fist against the table.

“Shit,” Morgan breathes out. “And you’re absolutely sure?”

“Without a doubt,” Dr. Carter confirms. “Given the concentration in the sample, whoever drank from the tumbler would have experienced symptoms of cyanide poisoning. Depending on the dose and how frequently it was consumed, it could have led to dizziness, vomiting, confusion… even death.”

Just like the others.

Morgan exhales slowly. “Alright. Thank you for the confirmation.”

“I’ll send the full report over by the morning.”

“Appreciate it.” Morgan hangs up, pressing her phone to her forehead for a moment before setting it down. The quiet in the room is deafening, thick with the weight of unspoken things. My chest feels tight, as if someone has reached in and squeezed the air right out of me. I try to swallow, but my throat is so dry, so tight, that it’s like trying to force a breath through a straw.

My hands are clammy, slick with sweat. The heat from the room presses down on me, but it’s as if I can’t escape the chill that’s crept under my skin. My mind whirls, unable to slow down. I can’t focus—every thought is a thousand miles away. A flash of memory strikes without warning. The cafe. Aubrey. A few weeks ago.

She made me a damn elderberry latte. The memory is so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of me. Why had I not connected the dots sooner? Why hadn’t I thought to question it?