The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 515

He didn't say a word.

But he suddenly remembered that night five years ago at the Antarctic research station, when he had also waited outside while Garrison was rushed into surgery.

Back then, Garrison had been coughing up blood and fell unconscious too, but that had only been physical trauma.

But this time... man... he honestly didn't know if Garrison could pull through.

Cassandra stood beside Sloane, pulling her gaze away from Wyatt and focusing on Sloane's wrists.

The makeshift cloth strips she had tied were now entirely drenched in dark blood. It ran down her forearms, pooling at her fingertips before dropping rhythmically onto the floor.

The drops weren't fast, but every single one felt like a heavy blow against Cassandra's chest.

"Sloane," Cassandra called out softly.

Sloane didn't react, her eyes remaining fiercely locked on the glowing red surgical light.

Cassandra reached out and gently touched her elbow, keeping her voice incredibly soft. "Your wrists are still bleeding. Let me take you to get them bandaged. The Emergency Wing is just down the hall, it'll only take a minute."

Sloane shook her head, offering only three words: "It doesn't hurt."

Cassandra frowned, her tone laced with urgent concern. "How can it not hurt? You've lost so much blood. We need to clean the wounds before they get infected—"

"I said, it doesn't hurt."

Sloane cut her off abruptly. She turned her head, finally tearing her gaze away from the surgical light to look at Cassandra.

Her eyes were bloodshot to the point of looking terrifying. Dried blood still crusted the corner of her mouth, and the dark bruises from Grant's chokehold marred her neck. She looked like a bowstring pulled to its absolute limit, ready to snap at the slightest touch.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, her voice steady but carrying an unshakable, stubborn resolve.

"I'm going to wait right here until he comes out."

Exactly five hours later, the surgical light switched off.

Sloane's body went instantly rigid, her fingers unconsciously digging into the hem of her shirt. Cassandra shot up from the wall, and Wyatt strode quickly down the hall, his boots echoing loudly on the tile.

The doors opened, and a doctor stepped out.

He wore dark green scrubs, his surgical mask pulled down to reveal an utterly exhausted face slick with sweat.

Sloane's heart leaped into her throat. Trembling uncontrollably, she stared at the doctor as if waiting for a judge to read a final sentence.

The doctor took a deep breath and offered a tired, faint smile.

"The surgery was a success."

"He's out of the woods."