Thunderbolt Financial was a name that inspired a specific kind of dread in the underbelly of Haven City. Situated in a nondescript office building that smelled faintly of stale tobacco and industrial cleaner, it presented itself as a legitimate lending institution. Its brochures promised quick capital to entrepreneurs whom traditional banks had rejected. In reality, it was a shark tank wrapped in a thin veneer of corporate legality.
Unlike the bureaucratic labyrinth of bank loans, securing funds from Thunderbolt Financial required nothing more than an ID card and a signature. The catch, of course, was the interest rates—numbers so astronomically high they bordered on criminal extortion.
Silas Thorne, the man sitting in the oversized leather executive chair on the top floor, was the archi
