Chapter 8

Tyla POV

Zane opened the car door for me. His movements were calm and deliberate, his very cold-looking blue eyes glancing my way as if silently assessing me.

I hesitated for a moment, clutching my arms tighter to my chest. My pride screamed at me to walk away, but the exhaustion in my bones won out.

I slid into the passenger seat, Jake climbing onto my lap and curling up, his small body warm against mine. The car door shut with a soft thud, enclosing me in a world of quiet tension.

Zane walked around the car and got in, his presence filling the sleek interior. He started the engine, and the low hum felt oddly soothing.

Neither of us spoke at first, the silence heavy but not oppressive. I stared out of the window, watching the dimly lit streets pass by. The city's broken soul reflected in every shadow.

After a while, Zane broke the silence, his voice smooth but edged with curiosity. "Where am I dropping you off?"

I hesitated, my cheeks burning with shame. "The homeless shelter," I finally mumbled, my fingers stroking Jake's fur for comfort. "It's about four blocks from here."

Zane's head turned slightly, his brows furrowing as he processed my words. "You're joking, right?" he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze. "No, I'm not."

He didn't respond immediately, but I felt his judgment in the way his grip tightened on the steering wheel.

The rest of the drive was silent, his occasional glances making my chest tighten with humiliation. When we arrived, Zane parked the car and stared at the building with open disdain.

The shelter, with its peeling paint and broken sign, looked worse than I remembered in the harsh glow of the streetlights.

"You live here?" he finally asked, his voice low and tinged with disbelief.

I didn't answer. Instead, I kissed Jake on the top of his head, whispering a soft goodbye. "Be good, okay?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Then, turning to Zane, I mustered a shaky smile. "Thank you for everything."

Before he could respond, I opened the door and bolted toward the shelter, the cold air biting at my skin. I didn't look back, too ashamed to see whatever expression might be on his face.

Inside, the familiar smell of mildew and despair greeted me first. My heart pounded as I made my way to Garrick's corner, only to find a small crowd gathered around his bed.

My stomach twisted with dread. Something was wrong. "Garrick?" I called out, my voice shaky as I pushed through the group.

When I finally reached him, my heart sank. Garrick lay on the bed, his frail form barely recognizable. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his skin pale and clammy. He looked so small, so fragile.

Around him, people murmured in low voices. "Who's taking his bed when he dies?" one man asked, his tone cold and detached.

"He's already half dead," another muttered. "Might as well put him out of his misery."

A woman rolled her eyes. "If the staff won't do anything, why should we?"

Anger flared in me, hot and uncontrollable. "How can you all be so heartless?" I snapped, my voice trembling. "He's still alive! He needs help!"

The group fell silent for a moment, some avoiding my gaze, others sneering. No one offered any comfort, let alone help. My chest ached with frustration and despair.

I thought this kind of heartlessness was only found with my kind, werewolves, not humans. And yet they were just as cruel, just as indifferent.

Desperate, I turned to the crowd, my voice breaking. "Please," I begged. "If anyone has a little money, anything... I'll do whatever it takes to save him, please. I'm begging you."

But the faces around me remained indifferent. A few shook their heads; others just walked away.

I sank to my knees, tears streaming down my face. "Please," I whispered, clutching the thin blanket draped over Garrick. "I can't lose you."

"Are you always this dramatic, or is tonight special?" a familiar voice drawled behind me.

I whipped around, my breath catching. There stood Zane, Jake cradled in his arms, his sharp eyes fixed on me. For a moment, I couldn't speak, stunned that he hadn't left.

Relief and gratitude flooded me, but pride still clawed at my chest. Throwing it aside, I ran to him, falling to my knees in front of him. "Please, sir," I cried, my hands trembling as I reached for his arm. "I didn't know my friend, Garrick, was this bad. I'll do anything you ask. Anything. Just help him. Please save him."

Zane's expression didn't change. He crouched down, bringing himself to my level. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but instead, he handed Jake to me. Then, without a word, he stood and walked past me, heading toward Garrick's bed.

I turned to watch, cradling Jake tightly in my arms as Zane bent down and lifted Garrick with surprising gentleness. Garrick's frail body looked even smaller in Zane's strong arms.

The room fell silent as everyone watched him, their judgmental stares replaced with awe and confusion. Zane didn't say a single word as he carried Garrick toward the door.

My mind raced, trying to process what was happening. Finally snapping out of my daze, I ran after him, Jake still in my arms. "Sir, wait!" I called out, my voice shaky. "What are you doing?"

He didn't respond, his steps steady and deliberate as he carried Garrick to his car. I followed him, my heart pounding.

When he reached the car, he carefully placed Garrick in the backseat, adjusting him so he was comfortable. Then he turned to me, his blue eyes locking onto mine.

"Get in," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For the first time in a long time, I felt hope flicker in my chest. Without hesitation, I climbed into the car, holding Jake close as Zane shut the door behind me.