“Done, done, and done,” Grayson said without hesitation. “Anything else?”

I looked down at my bare, bruised feet. “I need new shoes.”

He laughed — a rich, warm sound that filled the room. “Consider it a signing bonus.”

I picked up the pen. My hand trembled, not from fear but from the realization that the endless hallway of closed doors I’d been running down my whole life had finally, violently, been kicked open.

I signed my name.

Chapter 7 — Proof of Character

The cleanup of Northstar Fulfillment was brutal and public.