The panic attack

JAXON POV

“What the hell was the meaning of that stunt you pulled out there today, Blake?!"

I cornered Blake against the brick wall of the campus gymnasium, my hands gripping the collar of his athletic jacket so hard my knuckles turned white. The rain was pouring down around us, but I didn't care. My blood was boiling.

Blake just laughed, casually pushing my hands off his jacket and smoothing down his shirt with a lazy, arrogant grin.

"Relax, Jax. I was just playing my part," Blake said smoothly, leaning against the wall. "To win your million-dollar bet and get that Ducati, I have to make her fall completely in love with me. And to do that, I needed to earn her absolute trust. Stepping in between you two in the library was the easiest way to make her think I'm her white knight."

"I told you to break her heart, Reed, not steal my joy!" I snapped, my jaw locked tight as I glared at him. "I wanted to watch her kneel. I wanted to see her utterly humiliated on that floor for everyone to see! You ruined the whole show!"

Blake raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Relax, man. The viral video is already doing the rest of the work for us. By the time the Mid-Semester Gala rolls around, she’ll be wrapped around my finger, and the public dumping will be ten times worse. Just trust the process."

I let out a harsh, frustrated breath, kicking the side of the brick wall before turning away. But even as Blake walked off laughing, a strange, sour knot twisted deep inside my chest. Watching him stand up for her... watching him hold her hands in the library... it hadn't just ruined my fun. It had filled me with a sudden, boiling rage that made no sense at all.

Back at the estate, the storm outside had grown into a raging monster.

Inside the private study, the power blackout had left us trapped in absolute, suffocating darkness. The heavy rain battered the glass windows, and flashes of lightning cut sharp, jagged streaks across the dark room.

"Great. Just great," I muttered, standing up from my chair and fumbling around the dark mahogany table. "There should be a flashlight in the bottom drawer."

"Jaxon... I can't see anything," Aria’s voice whispered from across the table, sounding unusually small and hesitant.

"Stop complaining and stay still," I snapped back, my hands brushing blindly against the edge of the shelves.

Suddenly, a massive, deafening crack of thunder shook the entire foundation of the house, followed instantly by a blinding flash of lightning that lit up the room in a harsh, electric white.

My breath caught in my throat.

The room started spinning. The walls seemed to close in around me, pressing down on my chest like a lead weight. My lungs seized up completely. I couldn't breathe. Air refused to enter my throat, no matter how hard I gasped.

Not here. Not now, my mind screamed, the dark memories of the night my mother died crashing over me like a tidal wave.

My knees gave out. I stumbled backward, crashing hard against the heavy bookshelves, sending a stack of thick legal pads clattering onto the floor. I slid down the wood until I hit the ground, dragging my hands up to my throat, choking and gasping for oxygen in the pitch-black room.

"Jaxon?"

Aria's voice cut through the roaring sound in my ears. Footsteps rushed across the floor, and a second later, her small hands touched my arm.

"Get away from me!" I choked out, my voice weak, frantic, and entirely unlike my usual cold self.

"Jaxon, you're having a panic attack," she said, her voice shockingly calm, steady, and filled with a strange kind of authority.

Before I could push her away, she knelt right down beside me on the cold floor in the dark. She didn't yell. She didn't mock me. Instead, she reached out and grabbed my trembling hands, pulling them away from my throat and pressing them firmly against her own chest.

"Feel that?" she whispered softly, her voice guiding through the terror blinding my eyes. "Feel my heartbeat, Jaxon? Match my breathing. In... and out."

I was shivering violently, sweat cold on my forehead, but beneath my palms, I could feel the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart.

"I can't... I can't breathe," I gasped, my chest burning.

"Yes, you can," Aria said gently, her fingers wrapping reassuringly around mine in the dark. "Just focus on me. Breathe in slowly through your nose... one, two, three. And out through your mouth... one, two, three."

I followed her lead, my ragged breaths slowly syncing with hers. The crushing weight on my chest began to lift fraction by fraction. The room stopped spinning.

For several long minutes, neither of us spoke. We sat together on the floor of the dark study, the storm raging outside while her warm hands held mine steady.

Another flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the room, casting a soft, pale glow across the floorboards.

In that sudden burst of light, my eyes flicked up. I found myself staring directly at Aria's face just inches away from mine.

There was no arrogance in her expression. No anger. No defensive glare. Her dark eyes were wide, filled with deep, genuine compassion and quiet concern for the very boy who had spent weeks terrorizing her.

For the first time since she and her mother had stepped foot into this house, I didn't see an unwanted intruder. For the first time, looking at her soft, caring nature in the dim light, a strange, unfamiliar warmth stirred deep inside my chest, and it terrified me more than the darkness ever could.