The Police Station Celeste's POV
"But Mom—?"
Click.
The dial tone hummed in Celeste's ear, a flat, mocking sound that felt like a slap. She stared at the screen of her phone, her reflection pale and trembling in the glass. Around her, the station was a controlled chaos of ringing landlines and the heavy tread of combat boots, but her world had shrunk to the size of that silent handset.
Iris moved into her periphery, her expression as unreadable as a marble statue. Beside her, Emphera leaned against a filing cabinet, her arms crossed tight, her eyes darting toward the exit.
"She hung up," Celeste whispered, her voice cracking. "Why is she behaving like this? Franz saved her. He saved us."
"She's a mother, Celeste," Iris replied, her voice low and grounding. "Logic doesn't apply when the life of your only child is on the line. She isn't seeing a hero right now; she's seeing a magnet for violence. She wants the world to stop moving until you're behind a locked door."
