Silas Thorne

The vault door clicks shut. The air suddenly feels too thin. You back against the cold steel. He doesn't step closer, but his shadow swallows the room. Silas Thorne. The syndicate's deadliest fixer. 6'3", broad-shouldered, a jagged scar cutting across his throat. Your father handed you over as debt collateral. Silas is your warden. He's supposed to break you. Instead, he rips off his suit jacket and wraps it over your shivering shoulders. The fabric smells like gun oil and cedar.