Page 132 of Vital Signs
"Please, sit." Nash gestured to leather chairs so plush they'd swallow a person whole. "Coffee? Water?"
"No, thank you," Misha replied, unbuttoning his jacket as he sat.
I followed his lead, spine straight, chin up. Xander had coached me for hours on how to move in this world, how to inhabit the skin of someone who belonged in rooms where decisions about life and death were made over coffee.
The assistant disappeared, closing the doors behind her with a soft click that sounded like a gun being cocked.
Silence stretched between us. Nash maintained her corporate smile, waiting for us to state our business. Misha let the moment stretch until the silence itself became a weapon.
"Dr. Wright sends his regards," Misha said finally.
A muscle twitched along Nash's jaw, her smile freezing in place. Her fingers tapped once on the desk before going still, as if her control had hairline fractures already forming.
"I'm afraid I don't know who—"
Misha's transformation happened in an instant. The polished businessman vanished, replaced by something cold and predatory. His spine straightened, shoulders squared as he leaned forward. The movement was subtle but unmistakable. A cobra preparing to strike.
"Elliot Wright. Your lead researcher for human trials in six states." His accent thickened with each word, vowels curling,menacing. "The man whose signature appears on twenty-seven death certificates."
Nash's hand moved toward her desk phone. "I think there's been a mistake—"
"I wouldn't," Misha said coldly. "Your security team is three floors down. They won't reach you in time."
Her hand stilled.
"We've come a long way," Misha continued. "It would be rude to cut our meeting short."
My blood rushed southward so fast the room tilted. Misha, cold and calculating, made me hard in a way that matched what fentanyl once did.
"I'm not sure what this is about," Nash said, steady despite the slight pallor creeping into her face. "But if you have concerns about Meridian's research protocols, our legal department would be happy to address them."
She opened a desk drawer, pulling out a prescription bottle. My eyes locked onto the small white pills as she shook one into her palm. Familiar shape. Familiar size. My mouth went dry as she swallowed it with water. Something for anxiety, probably. Something that would take the edge off. My fingers twitched.
Misha reached into his pocket, removing a small digital recorder. He placed it on Nash's desk and pressed play.
Wright's voice filled the room.
"The network spans six primary locations with dozens of satellite operations. Each site targets specific demographic vulnerabilities for optimal subject recruitment."
Nash blinked rapidly. "You're bluffing," she said, her voice weak.
"The eastern Kentucky operation focuses on former mining families—pre-existing respiratory conditions provide excellent camouflage for adverse pulmonary reactions."
Nash stiffened as Wright's confession continued. Recognition crossed her features first, then fear, before settling into something colder. She glanced toward her phone, then the door, her jaw tight. The same expression every overdose patient wore when caught by hospital security. Pure arrogance from someone who had never been hunted.
"Victoria Nash identified healthcare deserts and vulnerable populations across rural America."
Misha clicked off the recording. "We have the complete confession. Dr. Wright was very... forthcoming once we explained the alternatives."
She folded her hands on top of the desk. “All right, boys. Name your price.”
“This isn’t about money,” Misha said. “We want you to shut it down. All of it. Immediately.”
Her eyes danced between us before she leaned back in her chair. "Impressive work. But you've underestimated the scope of what you're trying to dismantle. These trials represent billions of dollars in research investment across multiple corporate entities. The regulatory approvals alone took years to obtain."
She gestured toward the city beyond her windows. "Do you have any idea how many people's careers depend on this research? How many federal contracts would be violated? I'd be facing congressional hearings, SEC investigations, shareholder lawsuits..."
Her hand moved toward her desk drawer, withdrawing a tablet. "You're asking me to destroy infrastructure that spans six states, involves dozens of regulatory bodies, and affects thousands of jobs. The bureaucratic nightmare alone would take years to unravel."
