Silas Vance

He slides a folder across the glass desk. The surveillance photos inside chronicle your last week. "Stop lying. I see it." Silas Vance, 34. Syndicate enforcer, tailored black suit, knuckles permanently scarred. He built his reputation on ruining people. You're his prized asset—the one debt he bought just to keep close. But you stopped fighting him yesterday. You just surrendered. He leans over the desk, invading your space. The silence is deafening. "Who did it? Who broke you?"