I Drank Silverwolf’s Bane for His Sake, but He Thought It Was an Act Chapter 07
When Sophia arrived at the morgue, Ethan was sitting on the floor in the middle of the chaos.
She covered her nose and glanced at the vomit in disgust, then forced out a few tears and rushed
over.
“Ethan! How could this happen? Why would Olivia do this to herself?”
She clung to his arm, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
“If I’d known she was this fragile, I never would have suggested the blood moon hunt game.”
“It’s all my fault, Ethan. Hit me if you have to.”
Ethan didn’t move.
His eyes were fixed on the small white bottle resting on a tray beside the coroner.
That was the bottle that had held the wolfsbane.
He pushed Sophia away and stumbled over to pick it up.
He turned the bottle in his hand and stared at the batch number on the bottom.
“Where did this wolfsbane come from?” His voice came out so hoarse it was almost inaudible.
Sophia’s body stiffened. Her eyes darted away.
“Maybe… maybe Olivia bought it herself. Was she depressed?”,
Ethan turned and stared straight into her eyes.
“Wolfsbane was discontinued years ago. You can’t get it on the market anymore. Every Pack has
banned its production.”
“Olivia was locked in the underground safe house for two weeks without so much as a communicator. Where could she have gotten it?”
Sophia stepped back and bit her lower lip.
“Ethan, what are you implying? Do you suspect me?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
He turned to Noah and roared.
“Go. Find out.”
“Pull every surveillance feed from the action team for those ten days. I want to know who brought
this onto the set.”
Noah took off running.
Ethan took off his suit jacket. Ignoring the stains, he carefully draped it over my face.
Then he walked to the doctor, his voice audibly shaking.
“I want her autopsy report. Every line. Every data point.”
Half an hour later, Ethan sat in the coroner’s office, a thin sheaf of pages clenched in his fist.
The coroner pointed at one line.
“There was no food residue in the victim’s stomach. Very little fluid either.”
“Her stomach lining had severely atrophied. The markers suggest she hadn’t eaten for at least eight days before she drank the wolfsbane.”
Ethan froze. His fingers crumpled the report.
“She hadn’t eaten in eight days?”
Then he remembered. The action team had been instructed to supply ten days’ worth of food for two
people.
He rushed out of the coroner’s office and grabbed the production assistant who had just come back.
“Tell me. How were supplies delivered to the underground safe house?”
The man’s whole body shook.
“Mr. Walker, for the first two days, we delivered rations for two. But on the third day, Miss Sophia
said she wanted to make the blood moon exercise feel more realistic, so she had the supplies cut in
half.”
“Miss Sophia said reducing rations would test their resolve.”
It hit Ethan like a hammer blow to the head.
Cut in half.
Rations meant for two had been reduced to less than enough for one.
He remembered it clearly.
Every night for those ten days, he had watched the surveillance feed from the safe house,
I had always split each energy bar in two and put the larger half into the metal box marked for
Ethan.
For myself, I’d break off the smallest crumb and wash it down with a sip of water.
Sometimes I didn’t even dare drink. I would just wet my lips with a damp cotton swab.
Back then, he had pointed at the monitor and laughed with Sophia.
He’d said: “Look how committed she is. Playing self-sacrifice now? Let’s see if she keeps it up once she’s actually hungry.”
So I hadn’t been acting.
I’d left the only food and the only water for the husband I believed was outside – risking his life to find supplies for us.
And he’d sat behind a monitor, drinking wine and laughing at how stupid I was.
Ethan raised his hand and slapped himself.
The sound cracked through the room.
Half his face swelled instantly. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth.
