Him, His Uncle And I!

Hospital

Rebecca's pov

Getty… how could I have possibly forgotten about her? The thought hit me like a blow, guilt sinking deep as I realized I’d been so caught up in my own pain, I’d overlooked her need for help. I closed my eyes, taking a steadying breath. Then, with renewed purpose, I rose to my feet.

I glanced over at Ryan, his presence a reminder of the storm I’d just weathered. Placing my hands on my hips, I met his gaze with a cold steadiness. “Don’t expect my thanks,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of gratitude. Those were my final words to him before I turned and bolted toward the dorms.

When I reached the door, I pushed it open with all my strength, my voice breaking through the silence. “Where is she? Getty? Kayla? Where are you?”

“Over here!” came Kayla ’s frantic reply from the corner. Relief flooded me as I saw them, but one look at Getty told me she was in a far worse state than I’d feared.

“Can she walk?” I asked, glancing between Kayla and Getty’s bruised form.

“No,” Kayla replied, her voice tight with worry. “I… I don’t think so.”

Without hesitation, I crouched beside Getty, gently lifting her up to support her weight. “Max is outside,” I said quickly. “He’s going to take us to the hospital.”

Kaila’s eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of relief and disbelief in her voice. “Really? He’s… actually helping?”

“Yes,” I replied sharply, cutting her off. “But we don’t have time to talk about it now. Getty needs urgent help.”

We hurried out, and as soon as we stepped into the open, a sleek black car pulled up, stopping right in front of us. The passenger door opened, and there was Max, Ryan’s right-hand man and the one we’d been waiting for. His face was expressionless, unreadable as ever.

“Get in,” he instructed, his tone clipped and businesslike.

I didn’t waste a second, helping Getty into the back seat, Kayla climbing in beside her. I settled next to them, casting a quick glance at Max as he started the car. For a fleeting moment, our eyes met in the rearview mirror, and something unspoken passed between us—whether it was an acknowledgment of my pain or a mere duty-bound glance, I couldn’t tell. But he looked away as quickly as it happened, focusing on the road ahead.

Despite everything, a small sense of relief settled over me. I’d worried Ryan wouldn’t keep his word, especially after the icy last words I’d thrown at him. Yet here we were, racing toward help. Whatever his reasons, Ryan had come through. Maybe he wasn’t as heartless as he wanted me to believe.

But that moment of calm was shattered as we reached the gates and the car slowed to a stop. A guard strode up to the window, his gaze flicking to the back seat where we were huddled.

“Beta Max,” he said curtly, his eyes narrowing with disdain. “Where are the… slaves going?” He tilted his head in our direction, the sneer on his face unmistakable.

“To the hospital,” Max replied flatly, offering no further explanation.

The guard scoffed but stepped aside reluctantly, eyeing us with suspicion as the car pulled forward. I kept my head down, biting back the urge to respond, knowing any word from me would only make things worse. I held Getty’s hand tightly, offering her what little comfort I could as the car sped toward the hospital, my mind racing.

In that moment, I forced myself to focus. My own heartbreak and Ryan’s betrayal would have to wait. Right now, my friend needed me, and that was all that mattered.