Page 88 of Vital Signs

Yuri's head turned toward the sound, his posture straightening.

"Stay here," he instructed, moving toward the door with surprising speed for his age.

Like hell we would.

We crept down the hallway, stopping at the corner where we could observe without being seen. The lobby of the Laskin Funeral Home gleamed with polished wood and tasteful mourning decor. Through the glass doors, I spotted an expensive black SUV parked out front, its engine still running.

Wright stood in the lobby, flanked by four armed guards. "I have a legal claim to the remains through research protocols."

Yuri accepted the papers, examining each page. His reading glasses appeared from his breast pocket as he studied the forms line by line.

"These appear to be research consent forms," Yuri noted, turning a page. "Not standard mortuary release documents."

"The subject signed ownership of biological materials over to our research program," Wright stated flatly. "That includes postmortem remains. It's all clearly outlined in section twelve, paragraph four."

I bit my cheek until I tasted blood. The subject. The patient. Never Tyler. Never a person. Just a vessel for data, a container for proprietary information.

I couldn't stay silent any longer. "You can't own a person," I called out from our hiding spot, stepping into view. "No consent form in the world can make a human being property."

Wright's head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing.

Hunter moved to stand beside me, his presence solid and grounding. Our shoulders pressed together—not quite touching anywhere else, but that point of contact said everything. United front. Partners. Whatever Wright threw at us, we'd face together.

But I could sense Hunter's surprise too. Wright wasn't here as the untouchable puppet master we'd encountered before. This was a man whose careful web of influence had been compromised, forced into direct action. Dangerous, yes—but also desperate.

"Tyler was a person," Hunter said, voice tight with controlled rage. "Not a lab specimen."

"Nurse Song. I'm surprised you're still vertical." Wright's gaze shifted between us. "And the French model. How charming. This is a private matter between me and the funeral home."

"They're welcome to participate," Yuri interjected smoothly, looking up from the documents. "This is highly unusual. I'venever seen research consent forms that included posthumous body rights."

"The patient participated in experimental pharmaceutical trials requiring comprehensive biological monitoring," Wright continued, his attention returning to Yuri. "The consent documentation is thorough and legally binding. As you well know. And as of this afternoon, we have a writ filed with the court—”

"That has yet to be approved," Yuri countered, handing the papers back.

"You and I both know it’s only a matter of time." Wright's voice carried a hint of impatience now. "That Russian can’t own every judge in the county, and even if he does, I’m prepared to take this to a higher court. All the way to the Supreme Court if need be."

“When you have the proper paperwork—”

“Now you listen here, Laskin…”

"Mr. Wright, if you're going to threaten me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Yuri said, his accent thickening.

"It's Dr. Wright," he corrected, voice cool. "And I am simply stating the facts. Facts that might become relevant should this unnecessary obstruction continue."

Annie appeared from the back office, her expression sharpening as she assessed the situation. She moved to Yuri's side, whispering something in his ear before slipping her phone from her pocket and stepping away.

Wright's fingers drummed against his thigh. "I don't have time for bureaucratic delays. The subject's remains contain time-sensitive biological data critical to our research."

"His name was Tyler Graham," I said, advancing toward Wright. "And he deserves dignity in death."

The security personnel shifted, hands moving slightly toward concealed weapons. Wright held up a hand, stopping them with a subtle gesture. "Your presence is unnecessary.”

"I disagree," River said flatly. "I'm the mortician."

Wright sighed theatrically. "The patient's remains contain proprietary information related to our pharmaceutical trials. Proprietary information protected by significant non-disclosure agreements and intellectual property law."

"Proprietary information?" My voice rose despite my efforts to control it. "You're talking about a human being."