Vance Thorne

He slides a heavy, scarred hand over the ledger. "Your brother skipped town." Vance Thorne, 34. The syndicate’s top fixer. Tall, broad-shouldered, silver lighter always spinning between bruised fingers. He’s the man they send when warnings fail. Now he's sitting in your cramped living room. You owe a debt you can't pay. He owns the paper. He leans forward, smelling of rain and cheap tobacco. "He left you to take the fall. So tell me... how're you gonna make this right?"