I hope you enjoy reading the first few chapters of Forged in Deception as much as I enjoyed writing them! Apologies for the wonky formatting and any potential spelling/grammar/editing mistakes! – xoxo KW
Chapter 1
BEFORE
The woman looked down at the palm of her hand.
The sound of drums and chanting voices were getting louder.
They seemed to brush up against her ears, as though they were real things, as solid as the hard-packed sandy floor where she sat. Smoke filled her nostrils, the smell shifting from rich and pleasant to sour and sweet. A bonfire danced in the center of the room, sparks escaping only to extinguish themselves against the rough stone walls.
She tried to ball her hands into fists, but she could no longer figure out which muscles to use.
Her limbs had been working just fine. She was still quite sure of that. She had gripped a rough clay mug, lifting it to her lips and imbibing the herbal brew within.
But her fingers were shifting now, growing longer before twisting, warping, crawling upward toward the top of the hut. They no longer looked like hands at all. They were slithering flesh, like pale snakes coiled together, waiting for an unlucky soul to tread upon them in the dark.
She tried to swallow the sudden sick feeling that pooled in her gut.
This was wrong.
All of this was horribly, terribly wrong.
The world she had known was washed away, replaced by something different altogether. Something vast. A sky with stars and black holes in equal measure, a fickle place where a thousand doors waited to be opened.
And there was no way out.
There were no fingers now, no sturdy stone walls, no shifting smells, no fire.
People had been there moments before, she remembered. At least ten of them, casting their dark shadows in the firelight, chanting together, their voices blending as one. Now, they were gone, replaced with waves of light that seemed to undulate through the air like smoke, a spectacle of a thousand colors.
She didn’t know if she was chanting or not.
She heard her voice, meek and high-pitched amid the bellows of the others, but she couldn’t make her mouth open or close. Her tongue felt dry and thick.
She couldn’t make herself scream.
Her breathing felt fast.
Sputtering exhales followed rough inhales as smoke choked at her throat. She couldn’t look down at her chest, but it was expanding and shrinking again, in and out, fast and ruthless.
It felt real. Breathing still felt real.
It was something. Something to hold onto.
She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to the sensation of air rushing into and out of her lungs. Even the wrongness of the smoke was welcome. It was unpleasant and blessedly real.
“You don’t need to be afraid.”
A voice was there now.
It seemed to be beside her.
It was his voice.
But no longer could she open her eyes and see her beloved Professor.
“You’re doing just fine for your first time. I promise. Don’t fight it. Just surrender. Trust me.”
She breathed again, and again, grasping for her thoughts in the frenetic show of color and thundering sound.
Two words entered her mind before leaving it again, carried on the smoke and the waves of light.
“I’m scared.”
She hadn’t spoken them aloud, but she knew that he heard her. Some part of herself, a part that felt very far away now, was certain of it. She could trust him, just as she always had.
She felt herself beginning to relax at last.
The Professor was there beside her in the hut, and everything would be all right.
He was there.
He was still holding tightly to her hand.
Chapter 2
ASHER
“We can still fix this. This is not an emergency.”
“The bridal shop canceled! That is the ultimate wedding emergency.”
“I’d say throwing up on your dress is a little bit worse. Or being left at the altar–”
“Ladies, can we focus, please? We’ll just find new bridesmaid dresses. It’ll be fine.”
“Ooh, now that we have the chance to change things up, have you considered doing orange? I look so gross in green. And orange is the hottest color for weddings this season. I read it in, like, ten bridal magazines.”
“Orange-orange, or pastel orange?”
“Either one. But not, like, orange soda orange. Obviously. Gross.”
“But orange is the hottest color for fall. It’s going to be almost Christmas!”
“So what? This is San Antonio! It’s not like it’s going to snow. Probably.”
“Okay, hold on. How about this? We keep it simple, and just do black. It’ll be classy. And everyone looks good in black.”
“Black? Bristol, you can’t have your bridesmaids wear black! I know you’re stuck marrying Cam and therefore cleaning a house he lives in, but this isn’t a funeral.”
“Uhm, ouch! You do realize I’m sitting right here?”
“She’s right. You’re the messiest person on earth!”
Asher Forge stifled a laugh as his youngest brother Cameron glared over at the group of women gathered around the large dining room table. Just when he thought he’d die of boredom from all of this wedding talk, things were finally starting to get interesting.
Cameron and his fiancee, Bristol, were due to be married in two months, and they seemed to be feeling the crunch. The father of the groom, Gabriel Forge Sr., had suggested that a family Sunday dinner and wedding planning session at his home in the country would be just the thing, considering that the reception would be taking place in the backyard.
Apparently, it was going about as well as Asher had expected.
“You want my advice, Cam?” their cousin Reilly chimed in from the adjoining living room. “Just let the women handle the wedding. Just let them do whatever they want. It’s the most painless option.”
“He’s right, you know,” Gabriel Forge Sr. called out in agreement, sitting up straighter in his favorite armchair that rested in the corner of the living room. “Mary chose everything for our wedding, God rest her. I was happy to make her mine. That was all that mattered to me.”
“Mom would have loved this chaos,” Asher’s twin brother, Benjamin, declared in his rumbling timbre from his place at the far end of the table. “Can’t say I share that particular trait.”
Cameron shot Bristol a wink.
“Guys, guys, guys. You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m just here for the first kiss and the cake.”
He paused, allowing Bristol an opening to give him a playful swat on the arm.
“And the whole binding-our-souls-before-God part, of course,” he added.
Grace Hinton, Ben’s girlfriend and the office manager of their company, Forge Brothers Security, got to her feet and pointed at the back door.
“As maid of honor, I am officially declaring this meeting to be women-only until Gabe gets here with dinner. Go take the twins out to the yard. Show them a chicken or something. You, too, Reilly. Gabe Sr. can stay if he wants, but only because it’s his house.”
Ben shot out of his seat before Grace had even finished her sentence, and Asher, Cameron, and their old man followed without hesitation. Their cousin Reilly paused for a moment to sweep his eight-month-old twin girls, Clara and Josefina, off of the dining room floor.
His wife, Lauren, leaned over and pressed her lips to each of their foreheads in turn, cooing something to them in Spanish that Asher didn’t quite hear.
“No kiss for me?” Reilly joked. “Is our marriage getting boring already?”
Lauren rolled her dark brown eyes and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
“Seriously, out!” Grace admonished, shooing them toward the door.
The late afternoon breeze was refreshing as Asher followed the others out into the backyard of the spacious farmhouse. The man sank into the grass and watched as Clara and Josefina each found a crisp fall leaf and proceeded to stick it directly into their mouths.
“So, Ben,” Gabe Sr. said, swatting a fly that had landed directly on top of his balding head, “when are you and Gracie getting married?”
Ben paused to pick up Josefina, who was happily poking her sister’s tanned forearm with a stick.
“Soon enough,” he grumbled. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, but this wedding excitement is sending Grace into hyperdrive.”
“Don’t wait too long, son,” Gabe Sr. replied.
“I agree,” Cameron said. “Honestly, I kind of wish I’d asked Bristol sooner.”
“You guys know that Lauren and I wasted no time,” Reilly added. “No regrets. I love being married. And being a dad.”
Ben narrowed his eyebrows. “At least I have a girlfriend. Why don’t you guys hound Asher for once? He isn’t even trying to find anybody. He’s getting way too comfortable sitting around listening to music and playing video games until two in the morning. ”
Asher put a hand to his chest in mock-indignation. “In case you missed it, dear brother, I’ve been focusing on getting closer to the Lord for the last few years. I’d say that counts for something.”
It was true. Though the Forge boys had all been raised Christian, they hadn’t all stayed on the narrow path as they grew up. Asher certainly hadn’t. Neither had their brother Jacob, who was currently halfway across the world aiding persecuted Christians in an attempt to atone for the sins of his youth.
“It does,” Gabe Sr. acknowledged. “Our relationship with Jesus comes first. But that doesn’t mean you–”
Before the lecture could continue, however, the men were interrupted by the sound of a truck rumbling along the quiet dirt road.
The men went quiet for a couple of minutes as Gabriel Forge Jr. pulled his black Ford into the driveway and cut the engine, but the babies kept up a running commentary of adorable babbling.
“You’re hungry too, huh?” Cameron said to the girls, ruffling the nearest twin’s dark hair with his fingers. Lauren had dressed them in the same outfit today, and though they weren’t identical, Asher had already lost track of which one was which at a glance.
“Good to see you here, bud,” Gabe Sr. said, getting to his feet along with the others as Gabe Jr. stepped out of his truck. Asher and the rest of the boys shot glances back and forth as the two men embraced one another.
Though they were all generally on good terms, there was still some tension yet to be resolved between the Forge family’s patriarch and its oldest son.
Even after more than six years, it was clear that Gabe Sr. still held some resentment toward Gabe Jr. for leaving the original family agriculture business, Forge & Sons, in order to found a private security firm.
“Sorry I’m late,” Gabe Jr. said, handing several paper bags of still-steaming food to Reilly, Cameron, and Ben.
Asher couldn’t help but to notice he wasn’t entrusted with any of the Screaming Peach Cafe’s delicacies. Fair enough, he supposed. He probably wouldn’t have been able to resist digging in right then and there. The local coffee shop mostly served breakfast food, but Iris was always willing to adapt the menu for some of her most loyal customers.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gabe Sr. said easily, pulling back to look his son up and down as though he hadn’t seen him in years. “I’m just glad to see you stepping foot on the property. Especially with Iris’s catering in hand.”
“But please make sure you’re on time for the actual wedding,” Cameron joked.
Gabe Jr. smiled, but Asher could see that his blue eyes were troubled. “In my defense, I was stuck at the office trying to finish up some paperwork for the Fairman file. It’s due tomorrow, but honestly, I think I’m going to have to admit defeat and break the news to our lawyers that we’ll need an extension.”
Gabe shot Asher a brief glance that filled his stomach with lead.
He looked down at the twins playing in the grass, glad that his oldest brother hadn’t yelled at him in front of the others. He was supposed to have had that paperwork done by Friday, but instead he’d forgotten about it completely.
And then proceeded to spend most of the weekend at a music festival, having also forgotten his phone back at the house he shared with Ben.
Oops.
“Don’t worry about the paperwork,” he said quietly to Gabe as the men began to file into the house. “I’ll eat fast and go finish it. I was gonna be up too late tonight, anyway.”
“I appreciate it, bro,” Gabe said as he followed the others. “At least dad will be ticked at you for leaving early instead of being mad at me for… everything he’s always mad at me for.”
Asher wanted to say more, but Gabe had already slipped into the house and let the screen door fall shut behind him.
KARLIN
Karlin McKenna fiddled with the phone in the pocket of her white lab coat as she walked, turning it over and over between her fingers. Fighting back the urge to stare down at her feet, she kept her chin high and gave a curt nod as she passed a group of interns, who scurried out of the way immediately.
So far, she hadn’t seen anyone else down here on the lowest lab floor of Senera Pharmaceuticals. It was getting late, and most of her colleagues who had gotten stuck working on a Sunday had long since gone home for the night. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that bubbled up every time she took even the shortest break. Despite the fact that she was a senior research scientist, a small part of her still felt like the terrified newbie she’d been a decade ago.
Karlin pushed through a set of swinging doors, wincing at the sudden glow of artificial light in the wide hallway beyond. Finding the space empty as well, she brushed a stray wisp of red hair behind a freckled ear and stood a little taller.
Maybe she owed her past self a little bit of self-confidence now. If she hadn’t been so terrified to do what was right back then, perhaps she wouldn’t be carrying so many regrets.
She nodded to another passing scientist, an Asian man she didn’t know very well, and picked up her pace. There was no point in dwelling on her mistakes. She had to get outside and call John. Surely he was out of the insurance office by now.
Hopefully, he had good news.
She headed for the elevator at last, pausing for a moment to glance over at the nondescript but heavy door that led toward the most secure area in the entire facility.
She could almost see the small room in her mind, lined with tall refrigerators, cryo freezers, warming trays, and room-temperature cabinets, all filled with little vials of DX8.
She’d been in and out of the high-tech storage space more times than she could count, retrieving sample after sample in pill, liquid, and powder form. Countless hours had been spent recording data, analyzing and refining chemical properties, and every now and then, procuring doses of DX8 for research on animal and human test subjects.
Years and years of research, pools of sweat and tears, all for a powerful psychedelic that would revolutionize the treatment of mental health disorders.
A familiar shiver of unease wound its way up her spine as she continued on her way, instinctively quieting the clicking of her heels on the cold tile, as though someone was waiting to jump out of the storage room and grab her.
Ever since Senera Pharmaceuticals had hired Dr. Daman Bajwa as head of research and development, he’d been running her and her colleagues ragged. Their hours had never been so long but, to the man’s credit, Senera had never made so much progress on so many medical products.
But there was nothing that Dr. Bajwa cared about more than DX8. When it came to that drug in particular, he was single-minded. Sometimes even to the point of cruelty. Nothing else mattered. Not his employees’ personal lives, not labor laws, not his reputation as a boss, none of it.
On the other hand, his enthusiasm for DX8 was often inspiring. It was easy for most of Karlin’s colleagues to forgive his eccentricities. They never doubted that Dr. Bajwa was genuine in his belief that DX8 was deeply important to the future of humanity. He wanted to see DX8 being widely prescribed as soon as possible.
Sometimes, Karlin believed his hype, but every so often, she found his eager speeches in the lab to feel a little too forced, his beaming smile a little too wide. It set her teeth on edge, and it kept her eyes open.
Either way, she knew one thing better than almost anyone else working at Senera.
At the cutting edge of mental health research, errors in judgment could be deadly.
And they could also get her fired, sued, or thrown in jail.
Chapter 3
ASHER
The halls of Forge Brothers Security were quiet, even for a Sunday.
Though official company policy was to observe the traditional day of rest and worship, it was rare to find the place truly empty. As Asher made his way to his oldest brother’s fifth floor office to retrieve the files he needed, he knocked on the edge of the door frame out of habit before entering.
The expansive windows looked out at the busy streets of downtown San Antonio, though thanks to the thick glass, Asher could hear nothing but the gentle buzz of the air conditioning.
Even though he was supposed to be there, he couldn’t help but to feel slightly ill at ease in the oppressive silence. The sterile tidiness of Gabe’s office wasn’t exactly inviting. Everything in it was white, gray, or black–not that there was any clutter to speak of. Honestly, the place reminded him more than a little of the San Antonio morgue.
Asher crossed the short distance to the large metal filing cabinet along the side wall, taking all of five seconds to locate the correct file before making a bee line back toward the door.
Had it been anyone else, he would have stopped to snoop a little in search of a late afternoon snack. With Gabe, though, he knew he’d probably find nothing but plain water, plain chicken, and salad greens in the mini fridge. Certainly there would be nothing worth spending another two minutes in the cold, lonely corner office.
As he waited for the elevator to bring him back to the first floor, he heard his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. When he looked down at the caller ID, however, he couldn’t help but to curl the side of his lip in disgust.
He silenced the call and stepped out into the lobby of FBS, watching as a dozen or so people filed past the window in the fading sunlight, couples laughing and pausing for kisses as they rushed to catch their dinner reservations along the famous River Walk.
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he turned down the hall that led toward his office. Between Reilly and Lauren, Cameron and Bristol, and Ben and Grace, he had seen enough PDA to make him V-O-M-I-T.
He was happy for his brothers, but after the experiences he’d had with women–most of them of the regret and repent variety–he was in no hurry to follow in their footsteps.
Just then, he felt the annoying buzz of his cell phone again.
Sure enough, it was the Veteran’s Freedom Society continuing to pester him.
Nowhere to be found when his fellow soldiers were desperate for help, but pathologically unable to leave him alone.
He settled down in his worn leather office chair, swiped several random papers out of the way, and plunked the Fairman file down on his desk.
The voicemail notification pinged.
With another, less good-natured eye roll, Asher hit speaker and let the message play.
Hello Mr. Forge, I’m sorry we missed you! We apologize for calling on a Sunday, but we wanted to make sure you knew about our virtual town hall meeting. It will be a good opportunity for you to voice your concerns as well as to connect with others who share a similar background. We want to know how we can better serve those suffering from combat-related trauma. Please get back to us at–
Asher hung up the phone and sat in silence for a moment, fiddling with the smooth metal of the dog tag necklace he still wore, considering not for the first time if he should toss it out the window.
He didn’t need to talk about his feelings with some pencil-pusher who had never stepped foot on Afghan sand. It had been seven years. He was fine.
And he’d be even more fine if they would just leave him alone.
KARLIN
Even after a decade of living in Amarillo, the chill of desert evenings in autumn still managed to take Karlin by surprise. She pulled her lab coat more tightly around herself and drew out her phone, trying to see the too bright screen as the wind whipped strands of auburn hair into her eyes. It was almost seven o’clock, and her brother’s meeting had ended at least half an hour ago.
“Hello?”
“Hey, John,” she said. “I can’t talk long. It’s super windy here and I have to get back to the lab, but I wanted to hear the verdict.”
The line was quiet for several long seconds.
She listened to the howl of a coyote from across the expanse of reddish sand, tufts of dry grass, and the occasional Prickly Pear cactus. Still, John said nothing.
“Can you hear me? Should I try and go inside?”
A sigh cut through the rustling wind.
“It’s not that, sis.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t want to tell you the bad news.”
Karlin’s heart sank.
“Just spit it out.”
“I’ve been praying hard for this service dog. I really thought it was going to go through this time. But no. The Veteran’s Freedom Society won’t cover the cost. That was my last stop for finding funding. Maybe I read the signs wrong. Maybe it’s not God’s plan right now.”
Karlin gritted her teeth before she told her little brother what she thought of God’s opinion. Namely, that He should have intervened back in Afghanistan.
“Forget the VFS, the VA, all the rest. I’m gonna figure out a way to get that dog if it’s the last thing I do,” she said instead.
“Chill, Karl. It’s fine. I’ve managed this long without one.”
His words made her feel sick. He had not managed. Not at all. But she didn’t think reminding him of his low point would do him any good. Not to mention that it would only drag up yet another unpleasant memory that she was desperate to forget.
“I thought you’d agreed that nickname was dead at last,” she said breezily, hoping he couldn’t sense the hidden sadness and anger beneath her words. “You need to let me help you. You’ve been doing better. You haven’t drank in what, five months? I don’t want you to stop making progress.”
“I won’t. But a dog trained to assist with PTSD costs thousands of dollars. Therapy is expensive enough, not to mention the loony bin bill–”
“Don’t call it that.”
“Whatever I call it, you’re still paying for it, sis. Honestly, it makes me feel like a pathetic loser working part time. I need to find a better job and pay my own way again.”
The wind was picking up, and this time, Karlin was thankful for the noise. They’d had this fight too many times already. John was making progress in battling his demons, but mental health improvement took time, and it also took energy. Energy he wouldn’t have if he pushed himself harder at work than he was capable of right now.
“I gotta go, sorry, I can’t hear you,” Karlin nearly shouted into the phone as another helpful gust of wind whipped dust along the side of the building. “I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”
Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and shoved the phone back into her pocket before turning to head back inside. If she could focus for another forty-five minutes, she could let herself call it a night. She’d gotten a lot done today, anyway. Maybe she could lay out the lab prep for tomorrow, that would give her a–
She stopped just short of the doorway.
“Ms. McKenna,” Dr. Daman Bajwa said mildly, pushing the glass door open for her with seemingly no effort. “Come out of the cold. I need to talk to you.”
Chapter 4
KARLIN
Karlin tried without success to calm her racing heart as she followed Dr. Bajwa through the lobby of Senera Pharmaceuticals. The fact that she hadn’t actually broken any rules and had actually volunteered to work overtime on a Sunday was irrelevant. She knew that the man’s temper was easy to kindle, and his good graces easier to lose than to regain.
“Ah,” Dr. Bajwa said, gesturing toward a random, empty conference room. “Good enough. Just want to make sure no one is listening in the halls.”
She nodded noncommittally and followed him in, sitting down in one of the modern, uncomfortable chrome and leather chairs.
“I’m sorry for making a call while I was on the clock,” she said quickly. “I had to talk to my brother. It was important, but I should have waited another hour until I was off.”
He looked over at her, his brown-skinned forehead wrinkling in a moment of brief puzzlement.
“Ms. McKenna, focus, please,” he said, clapping his hands together as his face broke into a smile.
She released a breath. She wasn’t in trouble. Actually, the man seemed to be in an absolutely stellar mood.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I wanted you to be first to hear the good news,” he said, leaning forward over the table while somehow managing to keep his wrinkle-less shirt perfectly tucked in. “We did it, Karlin.”
Now it was her turn to look puzzled.
“Did…what?”
“We got a 65 year old for the next research retreat. 65! And it’s a male subject!”
Karlin was taken aback, and for a moment, her mouth seemed to cease operating properly.
“Do you not realize the significance of this?” Dr. Bajwa continued, waving his hands in the general direction of the walls.
She nodded. She did. Testing any new drug was difficult, but a psychedelic like DX8 posed additional challenges, especially when it came to finding patients to volunteer for clinical trials. Young people were significantly more likely to be willing to ingest it–sometimes too willing—which could also skew the trial results.
“I understand we’ve been in dire need of older patients for more than a decade, so yes, that’s excellent news,” she said carefully. “I’m just not sure why you would be willing to spend time on a Sunday to come into the office to tell me personally.”
An almost imperceptible look of disdain crossed Dr. Bajwa’s face, only to be replaced by excitement once again. The man was practically bouncing out of his chair.
“You didn’t even let me finish. I just got off the phone with my guy at the FDA. We’re officially moving into Phase II. Efficacy tests. Patients with actual, diagnosable mental disorders to treat. Lives that DX8 will change.”
Karlin took a moment to let his words sink in.
She wanted to share in her boss’s excitement, but she couldn’t shake off her nerves.
Senera had been conducting Phase I safety and dosage tests on the drug that was now known as DX8 for a decade, and had spent untold millions doing so. Things were moving slowly, and in the pharmaceutical industry, if you didn’t innovate, you’d be stomped by someone else who did.
Karlin wanted to move forward, too. But she couldn’t just ignore the red flags.
Especially not when she considered the DX8-related incident that followed her like a ghost.
“Are you sure we’re ready?” she asked. She tried to sound nonchalant, but Dr. Bajwa could sense what lay beneath her light tone at once.
“Of course. Our research retreats this year have been a huge success.”
“What about the blood test results for two of the younger guys back in July? They both had elevated hematocrit levels at the end of the retreat.”
“Barely elevated, Karlin. Those results could be–shall we say–interpreted as a rounding error.”
He gave her a pointed look.
“The FDA has already been informed of the amended report stating as much.”
“You signed off on this?” Karlin said incredulously.
Dr. Bajwa shook his head. “It’s your file. I need your signature.”
“You’re asking me to fudge research data so that we can give a psychedelic drug to mentally ill patients?”
Her voice seemed to echo against the sleek walls of the conference room.
“Please keep your voice down,” Dr. Bajwa said firmly. “Think about the big picture, Karlin. Medical research isn’t for the faint of heart. We can’t let miniscule anomalies get in the way. It’s slightly elevated hematocrit in two patients who have just spent two weeks in the North Texas desert. Think about it.”
She gripped the edge of her chair. He did have a point. Dehydration was by far the most likely explanation for the test results, especially in two healthy young men. But that didn’t justify lying to regulators.
“I can’t do that,” she said, forcing her voice to lower. “We need to account for every potential risk factor that comes up. We can’t just pick and choose because the executives are getting impatient.”
“You think I care about the executives?” he snapped. “You think it’s about a nice bonus and a bigger office?”
“I didn’t say that, I–”
“Good. Because that’s nonsense, and you know it. No. This is about this life changing, life saving, incredible medicine. It’s about making the world a better place. I thought you believed in the work we’re doing here.”
Karlin swallowed hard. “I do. But we’ve had safety issues a lot worse than elevated hematocrit.”
“We have had one death connected to DX8,” Dr. Bajwa replied slowly, his voice low and dangerous. “One. A decade ago. It was a tragedy, but we have no idea what role, if any, DX8 played.”
Easy for him to say. He hadn’t met the victim. He hadn’t seen pictures of the little girl that she had left behind.
“I just want to make sure nothing like that comes close to happening again. That’s all.”
“Good. We’re in agreement. When I interviewed for this job, I demanded to see Amira’s file,” Dr. Bajwa said, his eyes softening as he leaned against the conference table. “I examined it thoroughly. I agree that her suicide was a tragedy. But you should know better than anyone else here that tough decisions must be made when it comes to furthering the greater good.”
He paused, allowing the full meaning of his words to sink in.
Suddenly, the conference room felt cold.
All at once, Karlin was the scared new researcher she’d been ten years ago. Back then, she’d been terrified of not being able to pay her student loans. Now, she had John to take care of.
She had signed off on allowing Amira to enter that Phase I trial despite the potential history of severe depression. Whether or not she’d been manipulated into doing it was irrelevant. She had blood on her hands.
And Senera–and apparently, Dr. Bajwa–knew it.
If she refused to fiddle with the research data, would they punish her for crossing them?
They could black list her in the medical research field. Senera was powerful. All they had to do was spread a rumor or two, and she’d never work in a research lab again.
And that was far from the worst thing that could happen to her.
After Amira’s death, Senera had managed to successfully argue in court that a lightning strike had damaged their computer servers, creating a ripple effect that had led to the destruction of much of their trial data.
Karlin had never believed them. She suspected there was evidence that implicated her, hidden away somewhere in case they ever needed a scapegoat to sacrifice.
She was trapped.
But a small ray of hope flickered in the back of her mind. It was a long shot, but she had to try.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow what I decide,” she said, catching Dr. Bajwa’s dark, brooding eyes and daring him to argue with her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to head home.”
Without waiting for permission, she strode out of the building and into the biting cold of the desert night.
She had another phone call to make.
And if there really was some God out there beyond the twinkling stars, she hoped he was looking down on her now.
Because if this didn’t work, she was officially out of options.
And John would be the one to pay the price.