Page 7 of Seal My Fate

I sit in the dingy back booth, staring at Wren in disbelief. “But… I don’t understand,” I stammer, reeling from her revelations.

Ashford Pharma is faking their miracle Alzheimer’s drug? All that work for nothing, all of Saint’s excitement and hopes—

Then the other part of what she told me sinks in. That they would do the same thing to me that they did to her…

“Why would they threaten that?” I ask. “How could they even know the details about your attack, unless…”

I trail off in horror.

“Unless somehow, it was connected to what I found at the Ashford labs,” Wren finishes for me. “That’s what I think. I discovered the faulty data a week before it happened. I didn’t realize right away what I’d found,” she adds. “I thought maybe the file was corrupted, or it had been a data-entry error. The numbers just didn’t make any sense. I reported it up the chain at the lab and didn’t hear anything else about it. Then the attack happened, and it was the last thing on my mind. But once the threatening letters started arriving, it made me think the two things were linked. Like maybe the attack was a warning,” she says, “or revenge, or to scare me into packing up and leaving my fellowship, going back to the States. It worked,” she adds grimly. “I didn’t want anything else to do with that place.”

I sit there, trying to process it all. As my head spins, a group of people enter the pub. Younger guys, dressed in soccer shirts, already sounding rowdy.

Wren tenses. “Let’s take a walk,” she says, already rising to her feet.

I want to argue, but what can I say: That she’s being paranoid? She’s already been a victim of a brutal attack and threats against her safety.

I would be flinching at shadows, too, if I were in her shoes.

I nod, and grab my things, following her back outside to the busy street. Wren looks around. “This way,” she says, and takes off, walking fast, ducking through the pedestrians and darting out suddenly to cross the street.

“Woah, hold up!” I hurry after her, rushing to catch up. “You look like you’re running from someone,” I tell her. “Slow down, it’s OK.”

Wren eases up her pace, just a little, but I can tell that she isn’t happy.

We turn into a small park area with muddy grass, and a few kids kicking a ball around. We loop around the edge, as Wren keeps a watchful eye on our surroundings, and I try to think up a plan.

This is way out of my league. Falsified pharmaceutical trials, violent threats… And if this really is the reason behind Wren’s attack, I feel sick just thinking about it.

“We need to tell Saint,” I tell her. “He can help us.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Wren whirls to face me. “He’s one of them. Hell, it’s his family business, his name up there above the door. Ashford Pharma. For all we know, he could be behind what happened to me.”

“He’s not,” I vow immediately. “We can trust him!”

Wren shakes her head. “He could be dangerous, Tessa, don’t you see? That’s why I risked everything to come back: To warn you.”

“About Saint?”

“I told myself I could never tell you the truth, that I had to stay dead forever, but then I saw photos of the two of you, on Max Lancaster’s social media,” Wren says. “I didn’t realize you were together. That you were serious, or that you were still digging into my attack. It’s not safe, Tessie,” she pleads. “He’s not safe.”

“You’re wrong,” I tell her calmly. Even in all this chaos and confusion, Saint is the one thing I can be certain of. “I can rely on him. He’s proven that to me, repeatedly. He’s been helping me,” I add. “He was willing to do whatever it took to find the man who attacked you.”

“And you believe him?” she demands.

“Yes.” I hold her gaze. “I trust him… with my life. Whatever’s happening at Ashford Pharma, it’s got nothing to do with him,” I add. “He wasn’t even involved with the company until a few weeks ago.”

Still, she shakes her head. “You can’t trust them!” she says again, getting more hysterical. “I thought I knew my friends in Oxford, my colleagues, that they would never be capable of hurting me… And look what happened. I was wrong—and I’ve spent every minute of every day since living with the consequences!”

"Shh, it's OK," I try to soothe her, but Wren is sobbing now, in great hiccupping gulps.

“You can’t tell him. Please Tessa, don’t do it!”

“Alright!” I finally agree, desperate to calm her down again. “I won’t tell Saint. At least, not for now. But we need to figure out what to do, and soon.”

She nods. “I’m working on it.” Wren backs away, like she’s about to disappear again.

“Wait!” I blurt, panicking. “Where are you staying? How can I reach you?”

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