Chapter 10

Tyla POV

The hum of the engine filled the car as we drove through the quiet city streets. My fingers clenched the edges of the seat as unease twisted in my stomach.

Jake, sensing my tension, whimpered softly in my lap. The silence between Zane and me felt terrifying. I cleared my throat, my voice trembling as I asked again, "Where are we going?"

Zane didn't answer yet again, his focus remaining on the road, his expression unreadable. "Sir," I said more firmly this time, fear giving my words an edge. "Where are you taking me?"

He sighed, the sound carrying a note of exhaustion. "Calm down, Tyla. I'm taking you to a hotel for the night."

My breath hitched at the word hotel, and my grip on Jake tightened. A million thoughts raced through my mind, each one darker than the last. Sensing my discomfort, Zane glanced at me briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. "Don't get any weird ideas. We'll be staying in different rooms."

I blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. Jake gave a soft bark as if to echo my unease.

"I'm not taking you back to that shelter," Zane continued. "It's not a place for a young girl to sleep, especially at this hour."

"I'm fine at the shelter," I said quietly, though my voice wavered. "You've already done enough for me. I don't want to owe you more than I already do."

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I'm not doing this to put you in debt, Tyla. The shelter isn't safe. It's already past 1:00 a.m., and I'm not dropping you off there tonight. You can sleep at the hotel if you still want to go back in the morning. Fine. But for now, just trust me."

Trust. That word burned in my chest. People who offered help always wanted something in return; I'd learned that the hard way. Yet, Zane didn't sound like he was trying to manipulate me. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if this was just logic to him. Still, I couldn't shake my wariness.

Before I could respond, the car slowed and turned into a grand, circular driveway, stopping in front of a building so massive it made my breath catch. The hotel loomed before us, its polished glass doors reflecting the golden lights spilling out from inside. This wasn't just a hotel; it was a place for people who lived in a world I couldn't even imagine.

"You've got to be kidding me," I whispered.

Zane parked the car and stepped out, nodding for me to follow. I hesitated, clutching Jake to my chest as I scanned the area. The pristine surroundings made me feel like an intruder. I lingered by the car, my gaze darting nervously around, half expecting someone to jump out and tell me I didn't belong here.

"Relax," Zane said, waving for me to come.

Reluctantly, I stepped out, Jake held securely in my arms. I stayed close to the car, my feet barely moving as I tried to process the opulence surrounding me.

Inside, the hotel was even more overwhelming. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm light over marble floors, and the air smelled faintly of roses and wealth. As we walked toward the reception desk, I noticed how every staff member greeted Zane with deference, their tones filled with respect. But when their eyes landed on me, their expressions shifted. The disdain was clear, as if I were trash that had somehow wandered in off the street. My cheeks burned, but I kept my head high, focusing on Jake.

"Excuse me," one of the staff members said, stepping in front of me. "You can't enter here, especially not with a dog."

Before I could respond, Zane's voice rang out, "She's with me. Let them through."

The staff member's attitude changed immediately, stepping aside with a forced smile. I swallowed hard and followed Zane, feeling every judgmental gaze on my back.

Zane booked two rooms as promised, and we made our way to the elevators. When we reached my room, he glanced at Jake. "I can take him to my room if you'd like. He might be more comfortable there."

Jake buried his face into my chest, refusing to budge. I shook my head. "He's fine with me."

Zane smiled faintly—his first real smile since I'd met him. I realized then that he only ever seemed to soften when Jake was involved. He reached out, scratching behind Jake's ears and patting his head. "Good night, boy. Good night, Tyla," he said before heading to his room.

I stepped inside and froze. The room was beautiful, with a massive bed adorned in pristine white sheets, a plush armchair, and soft lighting that made everything feel like a dream. I didn't belong here. Every item in the room screamed expensive, untouchable.

I set Jake down and backed into a corner, my knees drawing up to my chest. Jake tilted his head, watching me. "This place... it's too much," I whispered to him. "I'm scared to touch anything."

He whimpered, and I gave him a small smile. "It's silly, I know. But once, back in my pack, I broke a vase in the office house. I didn't mean to; it just slipped. They whipped me for it. Ten strokes."

My voice broke, and I brushed my fingers over my arm, where the scars had long since faded. "I can't afford to mess up again."

Jake crawled into my lap as if he understood my words, pressing his small body against mine. His warmth grounded me, and I hugged him tightly. "I'm okay now," I whispered. "I promise. But I'm not touching anything here."

My stomach growled loudly, breaking the moment. I hadn't eaten since the food Mr. Martin had given me was stolen by those homeless people. Jake looked up at me, his eyes filled with concern.

Before I could dwell on it, the doorbell rang. I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing as I approached the door.

"It's me," Zane's voice called from the other side.

I opened the door to find Zane standing beside a hotel staff member who rolled a food tray into the room.

"You should eat," Zane said simply. "I could hear your stomach growling in the car."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I managed a quiet, "Thank you."

Zane nodded and left without another word. I sat on the floor with Jake, sharing the meal with him. It was more food than I'd seen in weeks, and the warmth of it filled the hollow ache in my chest. When we finished, I made a makeshift bed on the floor for Jake and me. The bed in the corner of the room remained untouched, too perfect for someone like me.

The next morning, Zane drove us back to the hospital. As soon as we arrived, the doctor hurried toward us, his expression grim. "Tyla, there's more wrong with Garrick than just pneumonia," he said. "We've tried everything, but his condition isn't improving."

His words made my stomach sink to the ground. I stumbled back, tears streaming down my face. "Please," I begged, "try harder. Do something."

Zane placed a steadying hand on my shoulder, his calmness unnerving. "Can he be moved to another facility?" he asked the doctor.

The doctor hesitated before nodding. "Yes, that would be the best option at this point."

Zane didn't waste a second. "Prepare him for transfer," he ordered, before pulling out his phone. "I need a helicopter as soon as possible."

I sank onto the bench, my mind spinning. Garrick's life depended on this, but the cost—I couldn't even fathom it. Zane's generosity terrified me. My debt to Zane had just tripled, and I had no way to repay him.

Nothing in life comes free, I reminded myself bitterly, not even kindness.

How in the world was I going to repay my rescuer? I was finished.