The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 99

"Time to board," he said blankly.

Diego pouted and grudgingly put his phone away, muttering under his breath, "Josh has zero respect for the algorithm..."

Professor Harrison checked his watch, his voice steady and authoritative. "It's time. Let's go."

*

A red carpet stretched from the gangway all the way down to the concrete pier.

Wearing a pair of black snow boots, Sloane carefully stepped onto the carpet.

The moment they entered the ship, a massive crystal chandelier spanning three stories plunged into view, refracting thousands of glittering shards of light. The marble floors beneath their feet were polished to a mirror finish. The air smelled of expensive perfume perfectly blended with the fresh scent of the ocean breeze.

A sharply dressed steward at the front desk offered a textbook-perfect smile. "Welcome aboard!"

"Whoa, this is way fancier than I thought!" Coach Jensen muttered, looking around at the lavish interior. "The project budget is insane!"

Professor Harrison nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. This is my third Antarctic expedition, but it's my first time aboard The Oceanic Glory!"

Diego whipped his phone back out and started recording again. "You seeing this, chat?! This is the grand lobby! Look at the chandelier! The marble! And check out that staircase—straight out of the Titanic! I bet Jack and Rose made out right there—"

Josh, walking past him: "..."

How did a guy like this make the cut for an elite research team?

Once the group checked in, Professor Harrison took the keycards and handed them out. "Coach Jensen, 310. Josh, 309. Sloane, 308. Diego, 311. I'm in 305. The staff will bring our bags up. Take some time to settle in, I'll send updates in the group chat later."

"Ugh—"

Sloane stumbled, one hand gripping the railing for dear life while the other clamped fiercely over her head. The pain—that familiar, agonizing, bone-drilling pain—swallowed her whole in an instant.

Gritting her teeth, she dragged herself back inside and slammed the glass door shut.

Her hands shook violently; she could barely grip her bag. Tearing it open, she fumbled for the small white pill bottle, popped the cap off, and shook out two pills. She shoved them into her mouth, swallowing them dry without a drop of water.

The pills scraped down her throat, leaving a bitter, chalky aftertaste.

She slumped against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the medication to kick in.

One second, two seconds, three seconds...