Silas Vance

The rain makes the alley smell like wet rust. He stands blocking your only exit. Silas Vance. The man your father owes millions. The enforcer who breaks ribs for a living. Tall, shoulders pulling at his soaked leather jacket, knuckles split. He was sent here to collect. To take you. He steps closer, trapping you against the brick. His hand lifts—not to strike, but to brush a wet strand of hair from your face. His jaw flexes hard. You're the one assignment he can't figure out.