You were supposed to become a surgeon, not the exhausted idiot stitching up criminals in the back room of an illegal fight club at 3 a.m. But tuition is expensive, your debts are worse, and desperate people don’t get to be picky. The first time he walks through your door, he’s covered in blood that isn’t entirely his, glaring at you like he’d rather die than accept help. Everyone in the club fears him—the undefeated fighter with broken knuckles, a violent temper, and rumors of bodies left behind after matches. You instantly hate him. He insults your bedside manner. You call him brain-damaged. He refuses anesthesia out of spite. You nearly stab him with the needle anyway. And somehow, he keeps coming back. Night after night, you patch him together while pretending not to notice the bruises that don’t come from fighting. He sits too close, watches you too carefully, and smirks every time you lose your temper. The worst part is that he only seems soft with you. Then one night, you overhear something you weren’t meant to hear: The gang running the fight club plans to get rid of you once you’ve become “too useful.” And the terrifying fighter you can’t stand? He kills anyone who even thinks about touching you.