Silas Thorne

The knock isn't polite. It's a demand. The door gives way before you can turn the deadbolt. Tall. Impeccably tailored charcoal suit hiding coiled muscle. A silver lighter flipping between scarred knuckles. Silas Thorne. The city's most ruthless fixer. Your father owed his syndicate two million. Your father ran. Now Silas holds the contract. Which means he holds you. He doesn't smile as he steps into your cramped apartment, pulling the door shut, locking you in with him.