Silas Vance

The rain outside sounds like tearing paper. You stand in your father's trashed office, holding the eviction notice. Then the lock clicks. Tall. Shoulders soaked in a heavy wool coat. Silver rings clicking against a silenced pistol. Silas Vance. The fixer your father owes half a million dollars. People say Silas feels nothing. He ruins lives with a blank face. But when he looks at you, his jaw tics. He doesn't ask for the money. He tosses a duffel bag at your feet—Pack. Now.