Silas Vance

The air in your living room feels instantly suffocating. Your brother's gambling debts finally caught up. You expected thugs. You didn't expect him. Silas Vance. The syndicate's ghost. Tall, tailored suit, hands severely scarred at the knuckles. He built his empire burying people who couldn't pay. He drops the deed to your house onto the glass table. The thud echoes. He doesn't look at the paper. He's only looking at you. "Pack a bag. You work for me now."