Page 86 of Ugly Truths
“Corey figured out a way to automate the decryption process that bypasses the security triggers embedded in the files.” Davey’s voice sounds strangled. Silas’s eyebrows furrow.
“Instead of unlocking each layer one at a time like we have been, he was able to make every decrypted key feed directly into the next layer,” I murmur, though my mind is racing through the usual checklist. VPN, endpoint security, and firewalls.
Everything seems to move in slow motion.
“So you’re making progress?” Silas asks.
“More in the past few hours than we have in a month,” Davey confirms, but there’s no satisfaction in his statement. “You need to see what we’ve found so far.”
My fingers fumble on the keyboard. Silas doesn’t bother to ask anymore questions—Davey clearly wants him to see what he’s seeing.
Only when I’ve thoroughly reviewed all his settings and completed a full antivirus scan do I finally step back, giving Silas the space to take over, but he doesn’t sit. Instead, he shoves the chair aside and leans over the desk, bracing his fingers curling to the edge.
“She’s done,” he mutters.
I hesitate before settling my hand gently on his shoulder blade, my thumb tracing slow circles over the fabric of his shirt.
"Silas. This… this is worse than I ever imagined,” Davey says.
A chill shoots through me, my hand stilling as Silas stiffens. I’ve never heard Davey sound so broken.
The laptop pings. Silas doesn’t hesitate as he clicks through his applications to open the email, bulk-downloading the documents. Multiple files flood the screen. He doesn’t pause to read any until every last one is in front of him.
I finally let my gaze drop to scan the topmost document. My stomach knots as my eyes land on the title.
Cognitive Stability and Compliance: Phase III Trials of Experimental Antipsychotics
Blinking at the words, I try to process what they mean. Silas clicks faster, the force of his finger harder with every tap of the mousepad. He’s moving too quickly to absorb it all, but he doesn’t stop.
The muscles beneath my hand coil tighter and tighter. I want to ask him what he’s seeing, but I’m at a loss for words.
As if sensing it, Davey clears his throat. “Your father—he—” His words falter, choking on themselves. “He’s been conducting illegal medical trials on vulnerable populations.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and my hand drops from Silas’s back.
“Since the late nineties, Silas,” Davey breathes, almost like he can’t believe the words himself. “The Deming facility is where it started. He moved the operation to Sierra Blanca right after Shaw left.”
Davey swallows so hard that we hear it through the speaker. “Shaw’s digital footprint is all over these files, too.”
Silas is frozen.
“There are still thousands of files to go through,” Davey admits. “But this—there’s no way around this. Experiments on the incarcerated. The undocumented.” His voice cracks. “The impoverished.”
My pulse thunders in my ears, drowning out everything.
I’ve uncovered all kinds of things over the years. Some of it was outright deranged. Violent coups disguised as business acquisitions, money laundering schemes so intricate they took months to untangle. At other times, it was something as mundane as a tax evasion scandal.
It was always hard to imagine what was actually in these files. Some days, my mind drifted to something out of a dystopian film—some horrifying, larger-than-life government conspiracy. Other times, I thought smaller. William hiding payments to an illegitimate child, maybe. Some quiet, shameful secret buried in redacted documents and offshore accounts.
Silas is gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Even that might not be enough. His knuckles are white, the tendons in his hands straining. Under his glasses, his eyes shine, locked on the last document he clicked on. I don’t even bother looking at it. I don’t need to.
I’ve seen Silas in so many states in the short time I’ve known him. I’ve seen him burn with anger so consuming it feels like standing too close to a wildfire. I’ve seen him controlled, shutting down every emotion until nothing but logic remained. I’ve seen him vulnerable, in the quiet moments where his guard slips and lets me see the parts of himself he hides. But I’ve never seen him like this.
Because nothing has ever been this impossible to process.
My mind whirls.
How did William get them to comply? Was it force, or a false promise? How long were they held at Sierra Blanca, forced to endure whatever his sham of a research team pumped into their bodies?What happened when the medicines made them sick?
