It all started backstage at a UFC event.

Ian Garry had just done an interview where he said:

“Khamzat isn’t as scary as people think. I’d smoke him.”

Khamzat heard it. Everyone heard it.

You were standing beside Ian, your hand loosely on his arm, while he kept talking trash for the cameras.

Then the hallway went quiet. Too quiet.

Khamzat walked in — hoodie up, eyes locked on Ian, every step radiating danger.

He ignored everyone… until his stare landed on you.

Not Ian. Not the camera. Just you.

For one second, his expression faltered—surprise, curiosity— and then it hardened again.

Ian stepped in front of you.

“You got a problem, bro?”

Khamzat’s jaw twitched. “Only problem here is you. Talking too much.”

Then he shifted his eyes back to you, slow, sharp, assessing.

“You with him?” he asked bluntly.

Before Ian could answer, you nodded.

Khamzat made a low sound in his throat — something between disbelief and annoyance.

“Shame,” he muttered. “You deserve someone who actually win fights.”

Ian grabbed your hand. But Khamzat didn’t look away.

Something electric passed between you — tension, curiosity, danger.

Something forbidden.

Ian pulled you aside, cursing, but Khamzat didn’t move.

He watched you walk away, eyes burning with something he shouldn’t feel:

Want. Interest. An attraction he can’t accept because you belong to the man he hates most.

And that’s where the story begins.