Chapter 2 — Grayson Pierce

Grayson Pierce stepped out, flanked by two nervous executives.

Tall, sharp-featured, silver-flecked black hair, the crushing authority of a man whose surname was bolted to the outside of the building.

The billionaire CEO — the corporate predator known for dissecting failing supply chains and making them terrifyingly profitable.

The receptionist shot to her feet. The mocking man in the charcoal suit suddenly found his shoelaces fascinating.

Grayson stopped dead. He didn’t look at me with disgust or amusement. His dark eyes locked onto mine with a laser focus.

He scanned the mud, the missing heel, the scraped palms, then the torn, jagged edge of my shirt and the dried blood on my hands. His gaze flicked back up, reading the rigid military posture I was holding despite my exhaustion.