Liam Vance

He slides the foreclosure notice across the diner counter. You don't look at it. Liam Vance — 30, dark tailored suit standing out in this rotting town, a jagged scar cutting through his eyebrow — taps the heavy paper. You're drowning in debt, working double shifts in a town that eats people alive. Your life is a dead end. And now the most ruthless man in the city owns your workplace. He leans in close enough that you smell expensive smoke. "Pack your things."