The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 250

"Garrison!"

Sloane's heart skipped a beat.

She threw herself forward, pressing her hands against his lower abdomen, but it wasn't enough. Blood welled up between her fingers, and her tears fell onto his hands, one drop after another.

"I'm fine."

The words tore from Garrison's throat, raspy and faint as a dying breath.

A second later, his legs gave out. As he pitched forward, Wyatt lunged and caught him.

"Dr. Foster, hang... hang in there!" Wyatt's voice spiked with panic.

Garrison leaned heavily against Wyatt's shoulder, his face buried near the man's collar. His breathing was shallow, pulling in and out like a receding tide, slipping further away with every gasp.

Sloane leaned over and ripped Garrison's shirt open, revealing the bullet hole.

It wasn't large. Just a small, charred puncture on the left side of his abdomen, but blood was pouring from it. She stripped off her own jacket, balled it up, and pressed it hard against the wound with every ounce of strength she had.

"Help me hold this!"

she yelled at Josh.

Josh slammed his hands down over hers. Together, they pressed against Garrison's abdomen. Hot, sticky blood continued to seep through their fingers. Garrison's face was losing color fast—his lips turned from purple to white, then a sickly gray. His eyes were half-open, his pupils already starting to dilate.

"Epinephrine! Where's the epinephrine?!" Sloane screamed. "Didn't we have one vial left?"

"I think he put it in his pocket!"

Cassandra quickly searched the inner pocket of Garrison's jacket and pulled out the vial—their very last dose of epinephrine.

"Right here!"

"Don't close your eyes!" Sloane patted his cheek. "Garrison! Look at me!"

Garrison's eyes shifted slightly to look at her. His lips parted, but no sound came out. His gaze was unfocused, like a flickering candle about to burn out.

A second later, Sloane cracked the vial open.

"Sloane, do you even know how to inject that?!" Josh's voice trembled.

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