Drake Thorne

The air in the private club smells like spilled bourbon and fear. Your father’s debts finally caught up. You stand by the door, cornered. Then the crowd parts. Drake Thorne. Built like a heavyweight enforcer, dressed in a bespoke suit that barely contains his monstrous frame. The city's underground kingpin. He stops in front of you, a hulking wall of muscle and silence. He pays off your father's staggering debt with a flick of his scarred wrist. Welcome to his payroll. You belong to him.