Chapter 14 Behind Closed Doors #3
Her face went blank. “But I’ve been taking it for weeks. It never—” She stopped, and I saw the fear creeping in behind her eyes. “It’s supposed to be safe. They said it was safe.”
“They lied,” Luz stated.
“If I quit now, there are penalties. They could sue me for breach of contract. I could lose—” Amy’s voice wavered, and she swallowed hard.
“Lose what?” I pressed.
“The money. All of it.” Her eyes were glassy now. “I needed it for May’s medical bills. For my tuition. For—” She shook her head. “I can’t just quit. I can’t.”
“They almost killed you,” I said, each word deliberate. “Whatever contract you signed doesn’t matter if you’re dead.”
Silence stretched between us. Finally, Amy nodded, her hand drifting to the bracelet on her wrist like she wasn’t sure she could leave, even if she wanted to.
Luz stayed at the hospital; she had an exam the next morning but refused to leave despite Amy promising she’d be fine, that Luz couldn’t afford to fail just because Amy had “decided to be dramatic.” Luz still insisted on staying the night with her in the hospital, just in case.
Leo pulled up in his truck as I stepped out of the hospital.
“How’s Amy?” He asked immediately when I climbed into the front seat. “Is she—” He swallowed. “How bad?”
Leo had transferred here sophomore year from a school across the state. He’d mentioned once, drunk at a party, that he’d moved to be closer to his family when his younger sister had gotten sick. He watched her suffer while doctors gave his family empty platitudes and expensive bills.
He understood what it meant to watch someone you love fade away.
“They’re calling it stress and exhaustion.” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. “But that’s bullshit. Amy doesn’t just collapse. Something’s wrong with this study.”
He was silent for a moment. “Let’s get back to your dorm. I got some stuff to show you.”
He put the car in drive and sped away from the hospital, his face more intense than I’d ever seen.
The dorm felt empty without Amy and Luz. Leo and I walked into the room. I moved to set my stuff down before sinking onto my bed. He plopped down beside me, heavy bags under his eyes.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked. He turned his gaze to me, face flooded with anxiety.
“Not much,” He admitted, taking his wire-frame glasses off to rub at his eyes. “Not after everything I found.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did you find?”
He pulled his laptop from his bag and opened it up. Ekklesia Biotech’s website stared back at me, all aesthetics and no substance.
“You weren’t kidding when you said they’re like ghosts.” He said. He proceeded to show me their “Research” page. No published studies, no peer-reviewed papers. Just vague descriptions of “groundbreaking work in consciousness enhancement” and “unlocking human potential.”
Their “About Us” page listed no names. No board of directors or founder’s statement. Just more corporate-speak about “pioneering the future of integrated wellness.”
“They aren’t in any academic database that I can find,” He continued. “Found some of their press releases, some corporate filings, a company registered in Delaware, some P.O. boxes. It’s like they exist in the shadows. But one name kept popping up.”
He pulled up a different tab, pulling one of the press releases he mentioned, scrolling to a highlighted name: “Cyrus Vane, Director of Clinical Operations.”
“I couldn’t find much on him,” Leo said. “An empty LinkedIn profile with a bunch of pharmaceutical companies, but nothing specific. He was mentioned as a co-author in a medical journal five years ago.”
“What was the journal?” I asked, heart hammering in my chest. He clicked a different tab on his laptop, pulling up the medical journal in question.
“It’s on ‘neuroplasticity enhancement through targeted compounds.’ Whatever the hell that means.” He said. “I didn’t really understand it. But check this out,”
He clicked to a different tab and scrolled about halfway down the second page. It was a news article from three years ago. Different university, different state.
“Controversial Sleep Study Shut Down After Multiple Hospitalizations.”
My stomach twisted again.
The article was vague, clearly scrubbed by lawyers. It mentioned an “unnamed pharmaceutical research company” conducting trials on college students. “Adverse reactions to experimental compounds.” “Investigation pending.” “No permanent damage confirmed.”
But buried in the third paragraph was a quote from a student who’d been in the study:
“They told us it was safe. They said the supplements would help us focus, sleep better, and perform at our peak. But people started getting sick. Seizures. Memory loss. One girl went into a coma. They didn’t stop the study; they just made us sign more paperwork saying we couldn’t talk about it.”
The university had quietly settled. The company had disappeared. And now, three years later, they were back under a new name and a new university partnership.
Taking more students, destroying more lives.
“I’ve got screenshots of everything,” Leo said. “Check this out.”
He clicked over to his files and pulled up his saved screenshots.
“I found this forum talking about it,” He explained as he opened the first screenshot. “But every time someone posted something, the post would get deleted within minutes. Look.”
One post from a student at another university: “Has anyone else been having memory problems? I can’t remember the conversations I had yesterday. My roommate says I repeat myself constantly.”
Posted 1:47 PM. Deleted 1:52 PM.
Another: “They made us sign NDAs. Said we couldn’t discuss the procedures with anyone. Is that normal for psychology studies?”
Posted 2:34 PM. Deleted 2:41 PM.
And then the one that made me sick to my stomach:
Posted by an account called “deleted_user” at 3:17 PM, it had only been live for seven minutes before vanishing:
“Don’t ask about the Shepherd. He’s already watching. They track everything. Your sleep, your thoughts, your friends. The bracelet records it all. Get out while you still can. I can’t. They won’t let me leave. They said there would be consequences.”
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“The Shepherd?” I asked, voice wavering. The memory of Amy sleepwalking, talking about the Shepherd, flashed in my mind. “Who the hell is that?”
“No clue,” Leo said, brow furrowed. “Sounds culty as fuck, though.”
He continued to show me everything he had found. Then he pulled up something that made my blood turn to ice.
A photo from a pharmaceutical industry conference two years ago, a panel on “the future of cognitive enhancement.”
Five people sat at a table on stage. Four of them were clearly identified in the caption. The fifth was unlabeled, but I recognized him immediately.
The man from the café, with pale eyes and an expensive suit. The one who’d given me the coin.
And standing beside him, shaking his hand, was someone else I recognized.
Dean Carroway.
“Oh, gods,” I breathed.
“Now we know why Carroway brushed Luz off so easily,” Leo stated grimly.
The university knew. Carroway knew what this company was, what they’d done before, and he’d let them in anyway.
I felt like I might vomit.
We fell into silence, unsure how to proceed or where to go from here.
“We need more intel,” Leo said before I could speak. He stood up, suddenly filled with restless energy. Then his eyes gleamed. “What if I go in?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m serious. I infiltrate the study. Pose as a participant, or maybe a volunteer. I’ve got a cousin in pre-med who owes me. He can get me scrubs. I’ll throw together a fake badge. Boom: Leonard James, intern extraordinaire.”
“Leo.”
“Fine, Leo James. Way better branding.” He nudged my shoulder. “C’mon. You need someone on the inside, and you know I can pass for harmless. I once snuck into the provost’s gala with a stolen cheese platter and no shoes.”
I tried not to laugh. “This isn’t a prank war. This is dangerous—”
“Then you need someone on the inside who isn’t already compromised.” His voice was steady now, serious in a way Leo rarely was. “Someone they don’t know. Someone expendable.”
“You’re not expendable.”
“Fine. Someone brave and dashingly handsome with incredible survival instincts,” he amended, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. “C’mon, Mel. Let me help.”
I studied this chaos agent who’d somehow become one of my closest friends. Beneath all his bravado, Leo was solid and loyal when it mattered. And he was right, we needed information from inside. I still didn’t like it.
“You’ll bail if anything feels off?” I pressed.
He held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You’re not a scout.”
“Messenger God’s promise, then.” His smile curved. “I’m fast enough to get out if shit hits the fan.”
I almost laughed. “What does that even mean?”
“Means I’m slippery. Trust me.”
I shook my head, half-exasperated, half-relieved. For the first time all day, I felt like I wasn’t drowning. I sighed and stared at him, hesitating.
“Just so long as you stay safe.” I paused. “Thanks, Leo.”
“Amy’s my friend, of course, I’ll help,” He said, waving me off. His eyes darkened a bit. “I couldn’t do anything for my sister, I’ll be damned if I sit back and do nothing while Amy dies.”
A thought prickled at the back of my mind, and already a sense of dread filled me at what I knew I needed to do next.
“You did great work, Leo,” I said, already pulling out my phone. “Can you send me everything you got?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said. He paused, watching me. “You got an idea.”
Not a question. I winced in response.
“We need to call in the big guns,” I said after a moment. “I’m calling my Mom.”