The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 355

Just as Garrison was about to offer a dismissive reply, the smartwatch on his left wrist vibrated violently.

This wasn't a standard notification—it was three short buzzes and one long one, accompanied by a rapid, frantic red strobe on the screen. It was the emergency vital sign alert he had specifically programmed for Sloane.

He glanced down at the watch face, and his pupils contracted sharply.

Heart rate—158 bpm, spiking rapidly. Blood pressure—85/50 mmHg, plummeting.

Oxygen saturation—89%, dropping past the critical threshold.

He shot up from his chair. The seat rolled back a couple of feet, slamming into the filing cabinet. His teacup tipped over, sending hot water sprawling across the desk, soaking his open lab notes.

He didn't bother righting the cup, nor did he spare Vanessa a single glance before sprinting out the door.

His heavy, frantic footsteps echoed down the hallway, drawing confused stares from several nurses.

Vanessa stood up, taking two steps toward the door to follow him, but upon seeing him rush into the ward, she hesitated and ultimately stayed put.

*

The moment Garrison pushed open the door, Quinn whipped her head around.

She jumped, her eyes widening in shock. She clearly hadn't expected anyone to arrive so quickly, let alone Garrison.

Then, panic set in.

She subconsciously took a half-step back, her shoulder bumping into the footboard of the bed. Her lips trembled as she stumbled over her words:

"Garrison, I... I accidentally walked into the wrong room..."

He leaned over, brushing the damp hair from Sloane's forehead, his fingers pressing gently against her temples where her pulse throbbed wildly. He pulled her hands out from under the covers. They were ice cold, her fingers curled tightly, hands clenched in distress. He gently pried her fingers open one by one, enveloping her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the reddened skin she had pinched.

The medication worked quickly.

The trembling slowly subsided. The deep crease between her brows relaxed, her ragged breathing smoothed out, and her tense body uncurled.

The heart rate on the monitor steadily dropped from one hundred and sixty back to ninety. Her blood pressure climbed into a normal range, and her oxygen saturation crept back up to ninety-five percent. She settled down, as if pulled from a nightmare by some gentle, anchoring force.

Garrison tucked the blanket securely around her, reset the IV flow rate to its standard parameters, and adjusted the position of the electrode patches. Then he stood up and shot Assistant Dawson a look. "You stay here. Do not leave her side."

Then, he turned around, those amber eyes locking onto Quinn.

"You. Out with me."