Page 95 of Begin Again

Celeste huffed, kicking her feet up onto an empty chair. “Fine. Socks. Whatever. But you’ll regret this when we beat you fair and square next time.”

Theo shot me a knowing look. “Uh-huh. I’m sure you will.”

And just like that, game night at our house had a new rule—one that I had no doubt we’d find a way around eventually. But for now, I simply sigh, shove my socks on, and prepare for war.

As it turns out, Morgan doesn’t like shoes or socks which brings us back to this moment of Orion forcing her to wear some of mycleansocks. They’re soft and cozy, but apparently, it’s weird to share socks.

I glance around at my friends, at the ridiculous socks everyone’s now forced to wear, and I realize that despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty, the looming darkness—we still have this. We still have nights like this. And as long as we do, we’re going to be okay.

At least, until the next round of Uno brings out the worst in us all over again.

The next round begins with a renewed sense of competition. No more secret alliances. No more under-the-table strategies. Just pure, unfiltered chaos.

And, somehow, Bennett is winning.

He’s down to two cards, leaning back in his chair with an almost smug expression. “You’re all about to witness history,” he declares, waving his next card between his fingers like it’s a golden ticket. “The greatest comeback of all time—”

Morgan’s phone rings.

She glances at the screen, then shoots up so quickly that her chair nearly topples over. “It’s the lab.”

All of the joking, all of the ridiculous bickering, falls away in an instant.

She hits speakerphone before anyone can tell her otherwise. “This is Morgan.”

A woman’s voice crackles through the line. “Hi Morgan, this is Dr. Carter, we finished the analysis on the sample you sent in.”

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 toSambucus 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?”

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