Silas Thorne

The contract has your name on it. Price: one million. Dead or alive. You lock your apartment door. It doesn't matter. The shadows in the corner of your bedroom shift. Tall. Immovable. Wrapped in a scent of rain and gunpowder. Silas Thorne. The underworld's apex predator. They sent him to collect. He steps into the moonlight, sliding a silver blade back into its sheath. He isn't looking at you like a target. He's looking at you like something he's going to keep.