The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 9: Growing Debts

Natalie~

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 movent deliberate and controlled. Jake shifted slightly on my lap, curling deeper into , 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 glimr of hope.

Garrick lay in the back seat, 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 sa calm efficiency he had displayed all evening, his movents 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 as I hurried after Zane into the brightly lit hospital. The sterile sll hit imdiately, a sharp contrast to the musty scent of the shelter. A nurse spotted us and imdiately sprang into action, her voice sharp as she called for assistance.

"This man needs imdiate care!" Zane's deep voice was commanding, cutting through the chaos as dical staff sward 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 ergency room. I stood frozen in place, clutching Jake tightly as if he were the only thing anchoring to reality.

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours before a doctor erged, his expression grave but tinged with reassurance.

"Pneumonia," he said. "It's severe, but you brought him just in ti. 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 like a tidal wave, leaving 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 swelling 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 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 in return?

"Why are you living in a holess shelter?" His voice broke through my thoughts like a whip, startling . His tone wasn't unkind, but it was blunt, direct. "Where are your parents, your boyfriend, your husband?"

The question hit very hard as sad mories 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 , skepticism evident in his icy blue eyes. "What do you an you don't have anyone? Your parents? A boyfriend? A husband?"

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

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

His words stung, but I didn't have the energy to defend myself. I was used to people doubting , questioning my words, my life. What difference did it make if he didn't believe ? 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 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 . 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 . "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 off with a look, his piercing gaze silencing . "Get in," he repeated, his tone firm but not unkind.

Without another word, I climbed into the car for the third ti that day, Jake settling onto my lap as if he belonged there. Zane shut the door behind 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 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?"

But he didn't answer.