The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 92

Garrison was alone in the car.

Archie was still in there. Sloane was still in there. His wife and son were in mortal danger, and he couldn't just sit here and watch!

Suddenly, a realization hit him, and his eyes lit up with desperate resolve.

Garrison tore open the glove compartment with trembling hands and dug out a sedative. It was a backup stash he kept for himself—for when the pressure became too much or when his insomnia flared up. He tore the packaging open with his teeth, rolled up his sleeve, and jammed the needle into his arm without a second thought.

The icy liquid pushed into his veins.

Slowly, the violent tremors wracking his body began to subside. The flashbacks retreated into the darkest corners of his mind. His breathing leveled out. His hands finally stopped shaking.

He pushed the car door open and stumbled out. Leaning against the frame, he felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from his bones.

Just then—

Bang!

A gunshot echoed from inside the chemical plant!

Garrison's heart seized as if crushed by an invisible hand. He bolted toward the entrance.

"Stop! It's dangerous inside!" A police officer guarding the perimeter grabbed him.

"My wife is in there! My son is in there!" he roared, fighting wildly, but two officers pinned him back.

"We have a team on it! You can't go in!"

Unable to break free, he could only stand at the barricade, his eyes locked desperately on that door glowing with dim yellow light.

One second, two seconds, three seconds... Every tick of the clock felt like an eternity.

And then, he saw her.

Sloane walked out of the door, holding Archie in her arms. The moonlight washed over her. She was covered in dust, her hair in disarray, her clothes stained with blood that he prayed wasn't hers. But her steps were steady. She walked forward, step by step, clutching Archie as if holding the most precious treasure in the world.

Garrison's eyes instantly burned with tears.

It was completely empty.

"I'm sorry..." She handed the empty vial to Garrison, her voice faint and raspy. "The Vitas Strain... is destroyed."

Garrison stared down at the empty glass, but only for a fleeting second. His gaze immediately snapped back up to Sloane's face.

Under the moonlight, her complexion was so pale it was almost translucent. A trail of dried blood lingered at the corner of her mouth, looking like a dark, jagged scar.

He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away the dried blood. His touch was incredibly tender, terrified of hurting her.

"You're hurt?"

Garrison's voice was hoarse, laced with overwhelming heartache.

Sloane shook her head. "I'm fine. Just... took a kick."

Garrison's eyes stung. He stepped forward, grabbing the hem of her jacket, desperate to check her injuries.