Page 87 of Vital Signs
Hunter's jaw clenched, but his hand moved to my knee, squeezing with purpose. "You're insatiable."
"Only for you."
"Misha," he said, voice dropping to something raw.
"I know," I interrupted, not ready to hear whatever he was about to say. "Too much. I'm—"
"Not too much." His hand tightened on my knee, almost painful. "Never too much."
Yuri brought lunch. "Any progress?" he asked.
"Actually, yes," I said, not bothering to create distance between Hunter and myself. My hand settled on Hunter's thigh."We've identified Wright's system. He was using something called OLEP to mark patients who showed adverse reactions."
"Instead of removing them from the trials," Hunter added, his voice steadier than I expected given our compromising position, "he increased their dosages and kept them in the study. All without proper informed consent."
Yuri's expression hardened, the lines around his mouth deepening. "This proves intent, not just negligence."
"Exactly." Hunter's arm tightened around my waist. "He wasn't just being careless. He deliberately escalated treatments after warning signs appeared."
I started to perch on the table, but Hunter caught my wrist and pulled me back. I settled beside him, pleased. His thumb traced lazy circles on my knee.
"Keep going," he murmured, voice pitched for my ears only. "I want to see how far you'll take this."
River joined us, carrying more files. His dark eyes scanned our progress before he set the stack on the table. "I pulled death certificates for everyone flagged with the OLEP code. Twenty-three deaths in eighteen months, all ruled 'natural' or 'accidental.'"
The room went silent.
Hunter's hand stilled. The playful heat between us evaporated, replaced by something colder. Sharper.
"Twenty-three people," I whispered, staring at the files.
Hunter’s jaw clenched.
My hand covered his. "Hey. Stay with me."
He focused on my face. "I'm here," he said.
"Good." My thumb stroked across his knuckles. "Because I need you."
The words were a lifeline. He grabbed on and held tight.
"This is bigger than we thought," Hunter said. "This isn't one researcher getting sloppy. This is systematic murder."
I nodded, unable to speak past the rage building in my chest.
Something clicked. "This is a pattern for Wright," I said, my voice steadier now. "When I researched him that first day at the cafe, I found a university financial disclosure showing Wright received over two million in funding from Empirical Pharmaceuticals three years ago." I met Hunter's eyes. "Empirical settled a lawsuit last year after three deaths in a similar trial. The details were sealed by court order."
Hunter leaned forward. "You never told me this."
"It gets worse. Empirical operated through a shell company called NeuraTech Innovations, which shared an address with Wright's private practice. He's been hiding these connections deliberately."
The doorbell rang.
We both looked up, tension shifting from grief to alertness. Hunter's hand found mine under the table—not sexual now, but solidarity. Whatever was coming, we'd face it together.
Annie's voice from reception, cold and professional. A man's voice responding, commanding and unfamiliar.
Hunter's fingers tightened on mine. "Something's wrong."
