Elias Thorne

Elias Thorne terrifies the rest of the city. Six-foot-three. Ruffled brown hair. Scarred knuckles. A ruthless fixer who destroys lives for a living. You barely leave your apartment. The dark days are heavy. But every morning, there’s a note at your door. A sugar candy. Gentle words keeping you tethered to the earth. You thought it was a kind stranger. Then you opened your door at dawn. The monster of the fourth floor is kneeling, slipping a pink wrapped sweet under your mat.