In the quad, Enid sat at one of the tables with her parents, pushing her food around her plate.
Her mother leaned closer, her smile tight with expectation. "So," she asked, "have you wolfed out yet?"
Enid's own smile slipped, just slightly. She recognized that look—the familiar disappointment, the unspoken comparison to cousins and siblings who had changed on schedule.
"Not… yet," Enid said carefully.
Her mother's expression hardened. "Enid, you're sixteen. Your cousins shifted at thirteen. Your brother at twelve."
Enid lowered her gaze, nudging her food aside. "I'm fine," she said softly. "I really am. I like who I am."
That was the problem with most parents. They measured their children against the achievements of others their age, never pausing to understand who their own child actually was—or who they might become.
Her mother sighed, already shaking her head. "Liking it doesn't make it normal."
She continued, voice firm but edged with worry. "If you don't wolf out before you come of age, it becomes harder—for finding a mate, for fitting into a pack."
"So what?" Enid asked, her voice tightening despite herself. "Do you think I'm not wolfing out because I don't want to? That I'm not trying?" She looked up at her mother. "What more do you expect from me? It's not like this is something I can just decide to do."
Esther Sinclair's expression softened only slightly. "You need to try harder," she said. "Are you eating enough red meat?"
"I am eating," Enid said quietly.
Esther wasn't convinced. "Eating isn't the same as eating right," she replied. "Your aunt says iron makes all the difference. Protein helps the change."
"I'm not a recipe, Mom."
Esther sighed. "I'm only trying to help. I just don't want you falling behind."
Enid pushed her tray away slightly. "I'm not behind," she said. "I'm just… different."
Her mother's expression shifted into familiar disappointment, the kind Enid had learned to recognize without needing it explained.
Her father remained quiet, offering no commentary—he never did—but there was something gentler in his silence, something that felt less like judgment and more like understanding.
Enid wished she could disappear from the conversation entirely.
"Hello—sorry to intrude."
The voice came from her side. Enid turned, relief immediate, and found Ethan settling into the empty seat beside her.
She smiled, grateful for the interruption.
"Um?" Esther looked at Ethan, clearly confused, unsure who he was or why he had appeared.
"Hi," Ethan said politely. "I'm Ethan… Enid's boyfriend."
Enid's smile widened just a little at that.
Esther paused, her expression tightening as she studied Ethan more closely.
"Oh," she said slowly. "I see."
"Um… what kind of Outcast are you?" Esther asked, eyeing him closely.
"I'm a vampire," Ethan replied simply.
There was a brief pause.
Esther nodded once, as if filing the information away, though her expression suggested she wasn't quite sure what to do with it yet.
"Yes," Ethan continued, meeting Esther's gaze, "and I heard you were worried about Enid not wolfing out. You don't need to."
He glanced at Enid, then back again. "Even without it, Enid is special. She's kind, she supports the people around her, and she shows up when it matters. That counts for something."
Enid blinked, surprised.
"She doesn't need to change to belong," Ethan added quietly. "She already does—just the way she is."
"Um… but as a werewolf," Esther said carefully, "if she doesn't wolf out, she'll be looked down on by others."
Ethan didn't hesitate. "That's the last thing you should worry about," he said calmly. "As long as she has people who care about her, that won't happen."
***
At the same time, the Nevermore morgue was unusually tense.
"This is a first," one of the deputies muttered, staring at the body. "Never had a suicide in the morgue before."
Sheriff Galpin stepped closer. "What've we got?"
"The gun was legal," a technician said, flipping through his notes. "Registered to him. Colt .45."
"The janitor says he keeps it in his desk,"
"I just spoke to Doc last week. He was talking about a cruise. Retirement." Sheriff Galpin shook his head. "He sounded… excited."
"Guess you never really know what someone's thinking."
Galpin looked at the body. "A bullet, apparently" He straightened. "Any security footage?"
"No," the deputy replied. "The camera was turned toward the wall. Nothing was recorded."
"They're scrubbing the footage now," the deputy continued. "Trying to figure out how long it's been there."
The suicide note says he felt guilty. About an old case."
Galpin took it. Read.
"It says he covered it up," the officer continued. "Faked the coroner's report. Lived with guilt all these years."
Galpin looked up slowly. "What case?"
"…Garrett Gates."
Galpin's expression hardened instantly. "Garrett Gates," he repeated. "You've got to be kidding me,"
"You heard of it?"
"I've been waiting thirty years to put away his murderer," Galpin said, voice tight.
"You know who did it?"
"There's only ever been one suspect," Galpin replied. "I always thought someone buried the truth."
He folded the note carefully, resolve settling in his eyes.
"Now," he said, "I've got my proof."
A/N: The Patreon version is already updated to Chapter 90, so if you'd like to read ahead of the public release schedule, you can join my Patreon
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