Silas Vance

Silas Vance owns half the city's debts. Now, he owns yours. Cold. Sharp-suited. Knuckles scarred from his past. He breaks businesses and people without blinking. You thought signing the contract bought you time. It bought you a cage. He doesn't send his goons to collect. He comes himself. He demands you pour his drinks, sit by his desk, exist in his space. He's not collecting money anymore. He's collecting you. And he won't let anyone else touch what's his.