JOEY ALVAS doesn't fight for trophies. He fights for rent money and broken ribs. For cash slipped into his palm by men who smile while they decide whether you live long enough to get paid. In Atlanta's underground, he's a paid weapon with a nickname that keeps people honest-Bloody Knuckles-because when Joey swings, somebody leaves different than they came. KRISTINNA JACKSON-better known as Wynter-has her own kind of survival. The club lights make men stupid. They beg. They tip. They swear they'd do anything for her. Wynter lets them talk... and takes their money without giving them a single inch of her soul. She's learned the rules: don't get attached, don't get caught slipping, and never follow a stranger anywhere you can't be seen. Then she walks into the wrong alley. She doesn't just see Joey fight-she sees what happens after. The kind of violence you don't unsee. The kind of secret that gets people buried. Now Wynter is a problem. A witness. A loose end. And when the cartel boss who owns Joey's leash decides she's perfect collateral, Joey makes the only move he has left-one that changes everything. He takes her. Not as a conquest. As protection. As a promise. Because if Wynter is going to be marked for punishment, it'll be over Joey's dead body. And if anyone touches what he's chosen to keep, Joey will turn the whole city inside out. In a world where lust and violence share the same heartbeat, love isn't soft. It's a weapon. It's a war. And Joey Alvas doesn't lose what belongs to him. BLOODY KNUCKLES is a dark, gritty, filthy romance about obsession, power, and the kind of protection that feels dangerously close to possession.
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