WNDR9952

Blood Behind the White Coat

Eighteen months ago you walked away from the Voss empire with nothing but a forged transcript, a new name, and the kind of muscle memory that never forgets how to kill. You built something real here — third-year residency, a locker that smells like coffee and antiseptic, colleagues who know you only as a doctor. Then this morning a face from your old life appeared in the waiting room, and every exit in this building suddenly feels like a trap.