Chapter 9

Tyla POV

The hum of the car engine filled the heavy silence between us. Zane sat rigid in the driver's seat, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, every movement deliberate and controlled.

Jake shifted slightly on my lap, curling deeper into me, his tiny body radiating warmth against the chill seeping into the night. I stared out the window, the city lights blurring past as my thoughts spiraled. The events of the evening played over and over in my mind, a chaotic reel of despair, desperation, and an inexplicable glimmer of hope.

Garrick lay in the backseat, motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. The sight of him, so frail and lifeless, gnawed at my heart. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

We pulled up to the hospital just as the clock struck nine, the glowing red numbers on the dashboard a harsh reminder of how late it was. Zane stepped out of the car with the same calm efficiency he had displayed all evening, his movements almost too composed for the situation. He opened the back door and gently lifted Garrick into his arms, his strength juxtaposed against Garrick's frailty.

I followed, Jake still in my arms, my legs shaky beneath me as I hurried after Zane into the brightly lit hospital.

Antiseptic smells hit me immediately, a sharp contrast to the musty scent of the shelter. A nurse spotted us and immediately sprang into action, her voice sharp as she called for assistance. "This man needs immediate care!"

Zane's deep voice was commanding, cutting through the chaos as medical staff swarmed around him. A stretcher was brought out, and Zane carefully placed Garrick onto it. The nurses wheeled him away quickly, their voices fading as they disappeared into the emergency room.

I stood frozen in place, clutching Jake tightly as if he were the only thing anchoring me to reality. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours before a doctor emerged, his expression grave but tinged with reassurance. "Pneumonia," he said. "It's severe, but you brought him just in time. He's in the ICU now, and we're doing everything we can. If you had been even a little later, he wouldn't have made it."

Relief washed over me like a tidal wave, leaving me weak. I let out a shaky breath, tears stinging my eyes as I whispered, "Thank you."

Zane's voice was steady, unwavering. "Do whatever it takes to save him. Spare no expense."

The doctor nodded, his tone professional. "We'll keep you updated."

As the doctor walked away, I turned to Zane. Gratitude swelled in my chest, but beneath it, an all-too-familiar dread began to creep in. How would I ever repay him for this? The hospital bills, the kindness he had shown, the countless favors he had done for me today—it was too much.

We sat in the waiting room, the harsh fluorescent lights above casting a sterile glow. Zane leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. I tried to focus on anything else, but my thoughts kept returning to him. What did he want from me in return?

"Why are you living in a homeless shelter?"

His voice broke through my thoughts like a whip, startling me. His tone wasn't unkind, but it was blunt. Direct. "Where are your parents? Your boyfriend? Your husband?"

The questions hit me very hard as sad memories flooded back to my mind. I swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. "I... I don't have anyone like that in my life," I replied quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His brows furrowed as he studied me, skepticism evident in his icy blue eyes. "What do you mean, you don't have anyone? Your parents, a boyfriend, a husband?"

I met his gaze, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "My parents died a long time ago," I said, my voice trembling, "and I don't have a boyfriend or a husband."

Zane's expression shifted, disbelief edged across his face. "You expect me to believe that?" he said, his tone tinged with annoyance. "You don't have to tell me about your spouse if you don't want to, but if they exist, they shouldn't be letting you live in a homeless shelter."

His words stung, but I didn't have the energy to defend myself. I was used to people doubting me, questioning my words, my life. What difference did it make if he didn't believe me? He had saved Garrick. That was what mattered.

Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, Zane spoke again, his tone matter-of-fact. "You don't need to stay here. Garrick's in the ICU, and they won't let anyone see him until he's stable."

I nodded, understanding his logic, but hesitant to leave the hospital. It felt like a safe haven compared to the shelter. Still, I didn't argue. I followed him out into the cold night air, the darkness pressing in around us.

The parking lot was mostly empty, the distant hum of the city the only sound. Zane walked ahead, his posture as composed as ever. I lingered behind, torn between gratitude and a nagging sense of inadequacy.

"Goodbye," I said softly, my voice almost lost in the night. I had no plan, but I couldn't ask him for another favor. My pride wouldn't let me. I'd find a place to hide until morning, then figure out a way back to the shelter.

As I turned to leave, his voice stopped me. "Get in the car," he said simply.

I hesitated, my pride warring with my exhaustion. "I don't want to bother you again," I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. "I already owe you so much—the hospital bill, everything you've done—"

Zane cut me off with a look, his piercing gaze silencing me. "Get in," he repeated, his tone firm but not unkind.

Without another word, I climbed into the car for the third time that day, Jake settling onto my lap as if he belonged there. Zane shut the door behind me before walking around to the driver's seat. The car started with a quiet hum, and we pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

The city stretched out before us, its lights casting a faint glow against the night sky. For a while, I watched the streets pass by, lost in thought. But as the minutes ticked by, a sinking feeling began to settle in my chest.

Zane wasn't driving me back to the shelter.

I turned to him, my heart pounding. The cold blue of his eyes was unreadable in the faint glow of the dashboard lights. Fear crept into my voice as I asked, "Where are we going?"

He didn't answer.