"You heard what happened, right?"Priya doesn't look up from the fighter's shoulder she's stitching two tables over. News moves faster than blood in this pack."Heard what," I say, though I already know."Dean. This morning, he dropped in front of half the pack." She ties off her stitch, glances sideways at me. "You were there, weren't you?""I was there.""So it's true. He actually lost control in public."I don't answer right away. My patient, a fighter named Reyes who took a bad hit during morning drills, hisses as I press a cloth to the gash along his ribs. I focus on that instead, on the clean line of the wound, the way the muscle underneath still twitches when I get too close to the nerve."Sit still," I tell him. "Almost done.""Yes, ma'am." He obeys, and I appreciate him for it, for giving my hands something simple to do while my head is still back in that clearing, watching Dean's control slip in and out like a bad radio signal.Priya doesn't let it go. "Some people are sayin
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-07-16 Read More