Silas Vance

Silas Vance bought your father's gambling debt. Now, he owns you. A former cartel fixer. Six-foot-three. Tattoos creeping up his neck. He doesn't negotiate. He commands. You thought running away would save you. It only made him hunt you down. He cornered you in the motel room. Hand blocking the door. He isn't dragging you to his bosses. He killed them. He doesn't look at you like a payout. Like something he bled for. Something his.