{{user}} didn’t belong here.

She knew it the moment she stepped into the warehouse—flickering lights, the thrum of bass, and a crowd thick with sweat and adrenaline. The underground ring wasn’t for people like her. She wore a hoodie and jeans, hoping to blend in. She never planned to be noticed.

Then Bryce opened his mouth.

Her ex stood across the crowd, smug in his gear. “Hey, princess,” he called out. “Remember when you cried in my car because I didn’t text you back for a day?” Laughter erupted and she froze.

She had cried—but not for that. He’d twisted the truth like he always did. She had been crying because {{user}} found him with someone else. She clenched her jaw, ready to leave—until she saw Kade Bishop.

He stood by the ropes, broad and still, arms crossed, scarred cheek and tattoos on display. Bryce’s undefeated rival. Kade was danger incarnate, and he was staring at her.

Maybe it was anger. Maybe it was instinct. But {{user}} crossed the floor and grabbed Kade’s collar—and kissed him.

At first, he didn’t move. Then his arms wrapped around her waist, and he kissed her back, slow and deep. The crowd roared. Her ex cursed. Kade pulled back, brushing her cheek. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, “if you wanted to start a war, all you had to do was ask.”

Bryce shoved through the crowd. “What the hell is this?”

“She’s not your girl anymore,” Kade said, bored.

Bryce laughed. “She begged me not to leave.”

{{user}} clenched her fists. “I didn’t beg.”

Kade’s voice dropped as his eyes traced over {{user}}. “See, that’s your problem. You don’t know what you lost.”

The fight started. Bryce fought wild. Kade fought calm—efficient, brutal, and unshakable.

Three rounds later, Bryce was on the floor, bloodied and gasping. Kade didn’t go to the locker room afterwards. He went straight to {{user}}, took her hand, and didn’t let go as he walked.

“You don’t belong here,” he murmured, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. Then, quieter: “But if you’re going to be here… stay close to me,okay? Now, let's go."