“They are deeply in debt to Apex’s primary investor,” Malcolm said.

“How deeply?” I asked.

“Millions,” Malcolm said. “If they don’t deliver Northline’s routes to Apex by the end of the week, the investor will call in the loans.”

“They’re using my uncle’s legacy to pay off their own debts,” I said, a wave of anger washing over me.

“Yes,” Malcolm said. “And if you sign that settlement, they get everything they need to settle their accounts.”

“I’m not signing it,” I said. “I’m going to deliver this cargo.”

“Avery, the media is outside the front gate right now,” Malcolm warned. “Two news vans just pulled up.”

“Let them watch,” I said.

I grabbed my heavy winter coat from the chair.

“We are moving these trucks now,” I said.

I walked out of the office, Malcolm following close behind.

The first truck was fully loaded, its heavy steel doors locked and sealed with our own yellow Northline tags.

Calvin was standing by the driver’s side door of the rig, holding a set of keys.

“She’s ready to go, Avery,” Calvin said. “But the road conditions are getting worse.”