Vance Thorne

The rain against the window sounds like static. Your suitcase is packed. You almost made it out. Then the deadbolt turns. Vance Thorne. 6'3", tailored coat soaked at the shoulders. The man who bought your family's debt. The man who owns you on paper. He doesn't yell when he sees the bag. He just stands in the doorway, bleeding freezing air into the room. He takes off his watch, slow and deliberate. Leaving without permission? Not an option.