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He reached out and pressed a hand to his wife’s hip. There was a faint rustling of plastic, and beneath the worn fabric of her nightdress, I caught the barest outline of an incontinence pad, bunched awkwardly on her hips. Ms. Cadmus’s fingers brushed against it, her lips parting slightly in confusion. Then, her eyes locked onto Jen once more. “I chased him away, Diane. Last night, out in the forest...”

A cold weight settled in my chest.

She was talking about me.

Or... was she?

I had heard footsteps. If it wasn’t Ms. Cadmus who had dropped off the files, then maybe she had seen whoever had.

“Um, Ms. Cadmus?” I asked cautiously.

She blinked at me, as if only now realizing I was in the room.

“You didn’t happen to stop by our—Jen’shouse last night, did you?”

Her thin brows furrowed in confusion.

I exchanged a quick glance with Jen before pressing on, “Did you see anyone else in the forest?”

Ms. Cadmus’s features twisted as she struggled to recall the memory. A flicker of distress crossed her face, as if grasping at something just beyond her reach. “I chased away that boy,” she finally said. “The orc.”

Fucking. Rowan.

“That wasn’t last night, dear,” Mr. Cadmus interjected, his voice gentle but firm. “That was almost a decade ago. You had to chase him away a few times that summer, remember?” Then, turning to me, his gaze hardened, the warmth in his tone vanishing. “Why are you asking her that?”

Jen squared her shoulders before I could answer. “Someone dropped off my parents’ police file last night, Mr. Cadmus,” she said, her voice steady, but the weight of the words hung thick in the air.

Mr. Cadmus remained still, his expression unreadable. “Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know,” Jen muttered, flicking me a sharp look that screamedwhy did you bring it up?“To hurt me, I guess.”

His face softened, sorrow and something else—something deeper—clouding his weary eyes. “Oh, my dear. If you ever find out who did it, you let me know. I may be ailing, but I can still put up a fight for those I love.”

Before Jen could respond, Ms. Cadmus stirred, her vacant gaze shifting toward some unseen point in the distance. “I need my medicine, Veyron,” she murmured.

“Of course, dear,” Mr. Cadmus said without hesitation, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long glass vial, its top sealed with a layer of saran wrap.

I watched in growing unease as he opened his mouth. A single large fang slid down from his palate. He positioned its tip over the plastic covering and punctured it effortlessly.

Translucent golden liquid seeped from his fang, thick and pulsing, dripping steadily into the vial. The sheer volume of it was staggering. Basilisk venom—undiluted, potent enough to killdozens—and yet, he collected it with practiced ease, unbothered.

My stomach twisted.

When he was done, his fang smoothly retracted back into the roof of his mouth, disappearing as if it had never been there. With careful hands, Mr. Cadmus peeled away the plastic seal, then—to my absolute horror—handed the vial directly to Ms. Cadmus.

“Stop!” I lunged forward, panic snapping through me. “That much will kill her—”

But I was too late. Before I could even close the distance, Ms. Cadmus tipped the entire contents into her mouth.

I braced myself for the inevitable—her body seizing, her breath choking off, her frail form collapsing to the floor.

But it never came.

Instead, her expression slackened and the tension in her features eased. Her arm still trembled as she held the empty vial out to her husband, though the violent shakes had dulled to something slower, more controlled.

“I need more,” she murmured.

Mr. Cadmus took her hands in his own, his grip firm but tender, his voice thick with quiet grief. “I need a little time before I can make more, dear,” he said gently.