Yavannah Constantine
My heart stopped cold, the thumping bass from the club muffled as though I had been plunged underwater. The officer's words echoed in my head, my brain struggling to make sense of them.
"Central district police station," the voice repeated, more insistent this time. "Are you still there, Miss Constantine?"
I blinked, my throat tightening as I tried to respond. "Y-Yes, I'm here. What... what happened? Is Yaskier okay?"
"We need you to come down to the station immediately," the officer said, the urgency in his tone sending another wave of panic crashing over me.
"Is he hurt?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please, just tell me what happened."
There was a pause, a brief hesitation that only deepened the dread clawing at my chest. "I'm afraid I can't discuss the details over the phone, Miss Constantine. But it's imperative you come right away."
