Zandoll

ZANE HART

“Please, I’ll get it. Just one more week, that’s all I ask, I swear. I’ll get it… please, doctor,” I pleaded, my voice strained, panic lacing every word I spoke. Bile rose up my throat as my brother’s piercing scream filled the room.

“You’ve given that excuse four times already. I am a doctor, Zane. Preserving human life is a must, but this is a place of work. We do not run on charity. I have simply tried holding out. This cannot keep going on. I’m sorry, Zane, but you need to bring your payment for at least this dose. You can sort the outstanding later on.”

Another piercing scream from Tyler tore through the ward, and tears pooled in my eyes as I dropped to my knees immediately.

“Please… please, just this once more. I swear by my mother I’ll get the payment ready in a week. I swear it. Please, doctor, just this once,” I begged.

I could feel every eye in the corridor glance in my direction, low whispers filling the halls.

Doctor Miles let out a small groan before rubbing his temples.

“The last time. This is going to be the last time,” he said, helping me to my feet before calling for his nurse.

“Head home, get a shower. You have practice. The drugs will be administered, and if anything goes wrong, I’ll call you, Zane.”

Doctor Miles was already moving to treat my brother. I cast one last glance at Tyler, my chest caving in as tears threatened to spill over, before I shuffled weakly out.

I clenched hard at the rusty keys of my almost beaten, run-down bike. But hey, it still got me around whenever something urgent came up.

Tyler was sick, and I needed to pull myself together just so he could get his treatment every single time.

For a fact, Miles liked me. He had hit on me once or twice. Truth be told, yeah, he was rich, loyal, calm, had a good job, a stable family—but he wasn’t my type. He missed one important trait. And maybe I had considered giving him a response so he wouldn’t toss my brother and me out onto the street. He probably wouldn’t be that cruel… but I wasn’t willing to take any chances.

I stopped in my tracks, my head snapping toward a screen nearby.

The most infuriating face I had ever seen was plastered across it again.

I had avoided him for as long as possible—news of him, anything about him. However, loud noises from the rink seemed to steal my attention.

Silas Peterson—the egotistic, bloodthirsty maniac—was in trouble.

I watched as a scene played on loop. Silas swinging, yelling at his opponent, beating the shit out of the man, swearing and calling him a slur.

“Someone pissed you off tonight. What on earth did they say this time?” I muttered under my breath.

The news coverage continued, and I was quick to realize Silas was in deep shit this time. He had gone ahead and pissed off a whole group of people who didn’t like being taken lightly.

My phone buzzed on cue. I sighed when I saw Maxwell’s text asking me to head to his office ASAP.

I dragged my feet, abandoning my plan of heading home, and instead went straight for my bike, kicking off into the dirt as I made my way to my manager’s office.

***

“This better be good, Max. I’m meant to be home resting right now. I’ve had a shitty week, and I have to be on duty at that shit job I work,” I grumbled, tossing my helmet onto the table and seating myself across from my smiling manager.

As a matter of fact, he seemed to be smiling way too much.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Good news, man. There’s a team looking for a new recruit, urgently. I filed for you—you got the job. You’ll be on their team. There’s an upfront payment, a bill that covers your new amenities, a car, a villa. Your brother’s hospital expenses will be covered too…”

“Wait… where is this going? This makes no sense. What team pays that much for a rookie? Besides, what team is asking for a rookie? It’s barely into the nationals. Something isn’t right.”

I leaned forward, my gaze locking with Maxwell’s. He huffed, pulling out a file and sliding it toward me. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before nodding.

I flipped through the pages, a knot forming in my belly as I read page after page. Sweat coated my temples.

“This… this is a marriage contract. Three bloody years—to a man? What the fuck is going on, Max?” I snapped, shoving the papers back onto the table.

Maxwell sighed, sitting beside me.

“They reached out. For some reason, you were picked. It didn’t make sense at first, but then the benefits… you’ll get everything you want. You’ll be playing on the biggest team. Your brother’s health will be taken care of by your husband. Everything you want is finally within reach. Call this a damn miracle, man—but this is it. Are you really going to throw it away over just three years?”

He made sense. Especially now, with the deep debt I was in… and with Tyler.

Beggars couldn’t really be choosers.

But this was too good to be true.

“This man… can I at least know who he is? The team I’ll play for? Hockey is my life. I need to know if it’s worth it.”

“I can’t tell you that. You might not sign, and his identity needs to be protected. You can sleep on it. I’ll need a response soon, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. I’ve seen you play. I’ve seen you handle hits. You’ve got this.”

Maxwell had been my coach since high school. I hadn’t been scouted—I missed that period taking care of my brother. Mom died. A lot of shitty things followed.

Maybe this was life making it up to me.

“You know what? Pass me the pen. I’ll sign this shit. What’s the worst that could happen? How bad could it fucking be?”

I grabbed the pen and scribbled my name in the required place before passing the document back to Max. He glanced through it, smiled, and folded it neatly.

“Since you signed already, we might as well meet your husband today. His manager and lawyer have been waiting. They’re in the office next to mine.”

A chill ran down my spine.

I swallowed hard, letting my eyes drift toward the door.

Was I really ready to take a leap like this?

What if I hated him? What if he was weak, temperamental, slow?

What kind of mess could he possibly be in to rush into a marriage contract with someone like me?

“Zane?”

Max’s voice snapped me out of it.

I nodded, forcing a tight smile as I stood and walked forward. The door pushed open, and Max stepped in first. I followed behind him.

It took seconds.

The first man was probably the lawyer—briefcase in hand, already reaching for the file.

The second…

Shit. Recognition hit instantly.

He was the coach and manager of the Ice Hogs—one of the best hockey teams. National winners. Champions.

my eyes landed on the third man.

Hands tucked into his pockets, dressed in sweats and a fitted top. That face…

“Hell no,” I muttered, a vicious snarl curling on my lips as my gaze locked with Silas.

The bastard who had stolen my heart once… then shattered it and left me to pick up the pieces.

“No? Good to see you too, Zandoll,” Silas said, grinning viciously.

“Don’t fucking call me that. I will not be going through with this contract,” I spat, hatred lacing every word.

“You signed already, Zandoll. And if you don’t like that nickname anymore… how about wife?” His voice dropped, dangerous and smooth.

“We are married now, Zane. I promised you… I’d come back for you.”

He stepped closer.

“And now, I am.”