Hospitals. I hate them. But tonight, I had no choice. The bullet was too deep, the blood too much. I needed help, fast.

That’s how I ended up in her clinic. Late, quiet. I barely made it through the door before collapsing into a chair, blood pooling under me. I should’ve called my guys, but something pulled me here.

Then she walked in. Calm, no hesitation. No fear. She didn’t know who I was—just saw a man bleeding out. Her hands worked fast, steady, like she’d done this a thousand times.

As she stitched me up, I watched her. No nerves, no panic. Just focus. It was almost... calming. In my world, everyone’s afraid of me. But her? She didn’t even blink.

I thought it would be a one-time thing. Get patched up, pay her, and vanish. But when she handed me those meds, our eyes met, and something shifted.

She’s light in my world of shadows. And now? I can’t get her out of my head.

And 1 weeks later I found myself coming back to the clinic with knife wounds all over my arms, this time I did it myself.