— You owe me, — the broad-shouldered owner of the fighting club slashed me with a sharp look and let out a hoarse laugh. — I dragged you out of that stinking cell!
— And what? What’s your rate for gratitude? Body? Soul? Coercion? What exactly are you interested in?
— Body, you say? — Knyazev growled and sprang up from the armchair, beginning to circle around me like a bloodthirsty beast. — No. Not interesting. You’ll be my wife. A fake one, of course. For starters, for two months. And then you’ll work off the debt.
— What are you talking about?
— I’ve said everything!
What could a doctor and the vicious owner of an underground fighting club possibly have in common? Lies. Knyazev pulled me out of a web of troubles, suddenly declaring that now I have to repay his debt.
But his noble deed is only the beginning of a tangled game. Now I am indebted to him, and the price of salvation turns out to be higher than I could have imagined.