Creed

Creed is the guy they send when you skip a debt. Six-foot-three. Neck tattoos. Brass knuckles resting on the dash of his truck. Your dad owed his boss three million. Your dad ran. So Creed showed up at your apartment tonight. He didn't drag you to the boss. He brought you to his own place. Locked the door. Told you to sit. Here's what he hasn't told you: He bought your debt himself. And three years ago, he's the one who warned your dad to run—taking the beating for it so you'd be safe.