Breaking the Surface (Part 2)

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The fight-or-flight response.

It's your automatic physiological reaction to an event that is perceived as stressful or frightening. This activates the sympathetic nervous system, triggering an acute stress response that tells your body whether it should stay and fight or flee from danger.

Throughout my life, my immediate reaction to a threat was to always stay and fight. Before I moved here, that is. Because, getting hauled into this gym for a second time today, to come clean about a secret I've kept buried for seventeen years—up until I got abducted, mind you—my gut instinct right now is flight. Definitely flight.

My, how the mighty have fallen.

Notwithstanding the fact that Luca gypped me of my coffee, the adrenaline coursing through my veins at a disturbing rate has me fucking wired. Like a crackhead on a three-day bender. And I can say that because, well, I've done it.

"Luca, what the hell is going on? Why did I have to call everyone in for a last-minute meeting?" The irritation in Dawson's booming voice bounces off the gym's mirrored walls.

Everyone?

Nope.

Time to go.

"Dude, I'm gonna barf," I grumble, dropping my forehead onto Luca's shoulder. "Please don't make me do this."

"You can't hide forever, Austyn," he mumbles back. "Especially since you're our boss' granddaughter. This talk is long overdue. You need to know our side too."

I hate it when Luca makes sense. It's so infuriating.

"Hello? Mind answering me?" My spine goes rigid as Dawson approaches us, brows raised, and his lips drawn into a tight line as he looks between Luca and me in search of answers.

Luca sighs, "It's best we do all our talking downstairs."

Dawson gives a curt nod in response, turning on his heel to lead the way towards the basement staircase.

Because that's not daunting or anything.

As we reach the end of our descent—overflowing the area where I'd spoken with Graham a couple of hours earlier—a plethora of curious gazes fall on me as I hang off of Luca's back like a guilty little koala bear. I swear I think my stomach nearly fell out of my butt. There are easily a hundred men and women staring in ominous silence, unsuspecting and unprepared for the bomb I'm about to drop on them.

Luca squats down, allowing me the ability to climb off at a safe distance from the ground without having to jump and possibly further injure my leg. Handing me my crutches for support, he ushers me to stand front and center, wanting everyone to know my face, completely unaware of my severe phobia of public speaking.

"Austyn has something she needs to share with us, so show her some respect and keep quiet until she's finished." Luca's threatening stare spans the length of the room in warning before he finds his place to my far left, next to Dawson, Kol, and Avery. He sends me a supportive wink, and I return a half-hearted smile, but it falls as quickly as it came.

I look to the ground to gather my thoughts and some leftover scraps of bravery. My shaky fingers curl around the hand rest on my crutches, and my knuckles turn white from how hard I'm gripping the grey padding. When I realize there's no escaping this conversation, I suck in a deep breath and face the mass majority of the room to tell my story.