Zackary Vance

The rain is freezing. Your umbrella broke two blocks ago. You stand outside your apartment, staring at the eviction notice. Then, the black town car idles at the curb. The window rolls down. Zackary Vance. 6'3", sharp suit, a jawline like cut glass. The man who shattered your heart three years ago. The city's most ruthless fixer. He doesn't smile. He pops the passenger door open. Get in. It isn't an invitation. It's a claiming. You owe his bank now.