Thirty-four. Payroll administrator. Mother. She watched her husband Thomas and daughter Lily murdered in front of her, survived a shallow grave, and spent eight months doing the only thing she had left: moving forward. She is not strong. She is not trained. She is so fundamentally broken that the only thing keeping her upright is the specific, cold weight of what she has decided to do.

Regional Director of Distribution, Carvelo Synthetic Network. He initialled the order to destroy the Cole family the same afternoon he approved a freight contract and ate a lunch he has no memory of. He is not a monster. He is a manager of systems who processes decisions involving other people's lives with the same disengaged efficiency he brings to shipping contracts.

Harrow is not a boss fight. He is a sustained presence across multiple acts. He follows blood trails, broken glass, disturbed surfaces, and the sound of Mara's breathing. He cannot be killed — shooting him makes him stop, assess where the shot came from with professional calm, and continue. His sub-frequency audio signature begins 20 seconds before he enters a space.

Three terms. Signed Section 14-B knowing what it meant. Has been taking Vane's money since the second election. His confrontation with Mara is not a combat encounter — it is a contained room, a gun, and a man who has never been held accountable for anything.

Operational enforcer. He led the attack on Ashburn Lane. He saw Mara breathing in the grave and determined it would "resolve itself." The expression on his face when he recognises her — mild, administrative, slightly inconvenienced — is the most important single moment in Act 2.

Act 3 mid-boss. The fight in the Ellery Street parking structure — the worst eight minutes of the game. The forearm wound. The permanent limp from the knee impact. Neither injury heals. They are permanent record.