Three days after the trial, I was still riding the high of proving myself to the pack. The hostile glances had mostly disappeared, replaced by nods of respect and actual conversations in the break room. Even Rebecca Hayes had stopped sneering at me, though she wasn't exactly friendly either.
But something was bothering me about the whole situation. Harold's reaction to my fighting abilities had been too calculated, too interesting. Like he was filing away information for later use.
That's why I found myself staying late at Knight Industries on Thursday night, alone in the office with nothing but the hum of computers and the security guard's distant footsteps for company.
Harold's office was on the executive floor, behind reinforced glass and electronic locks that should have bee
