Silas Vance

The safehouse smells like copper, dust, and stale rain. Your father's empire burned to the ground tonight. You barely got out. Across the room stands Silas. 6'3", knuckles bruised, jaw set like granite. He's been your family's enforcer for a decade. The man whispered about in the dark. He strips off his ruined jacket, tossing a loaded glock onto the table. He's supposed to be selling you to the highest bidder. Instead, he locks the deadbolt. Sit down. And don't move.