She believed in order. In clean lines, clipped charts, and predictable outcomes. Her world was ruled by heart monitors and hospital routines—where every life mattered and every second counted. She worked herself raw in those white-walled corridors, stitching broken bodies while trying to hold her own life together. And lately, that life had begun to unravel.

First came the engagement—forced, formal, and cold. Arranged by families who valued bloodlines over free will. She was to marry a man she loathed. A man who wore tailored suits over a heart made of stone. A man who led a life where death was currency and fear was respect. The mafia king.

They were oil and water, light and shadow. She saved lives. He destroyed them.

She counted the days until the ceremony until she'd be legally bound to a monster.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

The night she vanished was ordinary—late shift, empty streets, keys clutched between tired fingers. Then, a screech of tires. A hand. Darkness. She never even had time to scream.

When he got the call, the world didn’t slow—it ignited.

She may have hated him. He may have considered her a nuisance. But no one laid a hand on what was his. Not without consequences. Not without war.

And suddenly, the girl who wanted nothing to do with the underworld found herself drowning in it.

Not as a bride.

But as bait.