Page 23 of Vital Signs

"That's rich," I shot back, "coming from people who—" I stopped myself, but the damage was done.

"Coming from people who what?" Annie's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"No, say it," Xander demanded. "What were you going to say?"

I looked around the table. At Nikita, who'd killed more people than I could count. At River, who fed parts of his victims to his mushrooms. At Annie, who'd earned the name Angel of Death. At Xander, who I'd seen rolling on molly just last week.

"Coming from people who think an addict is too dangerous to work with," I said finally. "But a cannibal is fine. A serial killer is fine. The Russian mafia is fine. Just not someone with an opioid addiction."

The silence was deafening.

War's expression hardened. "Those are family. Proven. Loyal. You're asking us to trust someone we don't know, who has every reason to tell you what you want to hear if it means getting money or drugs."

"Hunter isn't like that."

"You've known him for what, two days?" River interrupted.

Xavier sighed. "Misha, Wright's connected. University faculty, pharmaceutical companies, and probably lawyers on retainer. This isn't some random predator we can disappear quietly. This is high-profile, high-risk. You sure you want to stake your reputation—and ours—on the word of someone you barely know?"

The concern in his voice wasn't about me being fragile. It was about me being reckless. Somehow that stung worse.

"I'm not asking you to trust Hunter," I said, keeping my voice level. "I'm asking you to trust me. To trust my judgment."

"Those trials are regulated," War said, cutting through the noise. "Participants consent. They're informed of the risks."

"Informed?" My voice went sharp. "Tyler trusted a doctor who deliberately poisoned him. That's not consent. That's murder with paperwork."

War's jaw tightened. "Even if you're right, we need evidence before we act."

"I have evidence. Tyler's dead. The drugs in his system—"

"The word of an addict and your gut feeling," Nikita interrupted. "That's not how we operate."

"This isn't about you," War said quietly. "Is it?"

I flinched. The knowing look in his eyes said he'd already decided the answer.

"This is about Tyler."

"Tyler's been dead for weeks." War leaned forward. "What changed? You meeting a homeless addict who reminds you of yourself? You finding someone else who's been failed by the system?"

The accuracy stung worse than the accusation.

"Wright's death would bring scrutiny," Xavier added. "Investigations. The kind of attention we can't afford. This is exactly the case that could destroy everything we've built."

The dismissal hit exactly where it was supposed to. Too emotional. Too reckless. Too damaged to be trusted with important decisions.

"Fine," I said, voice tight. "But when more people die, their blood will be on your hands."

"Here's what we're going to do," Annie said. "We investigate Wright properly. Gather irrefutable evidence from multiple sources. If there's a case, we'll discuss it at the next meeting."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, you step back," War said firmly. "Let us handle this the right way."

"The family sanctions a proper investigation," Annie announced. "River will lead. Xavier will provide technical support."