Davina's POV
Yoel jerked away from me like he'd been electrocuted.
I staggered backward, gasping for air, my chest heaving as I fought to catch my breath. My throat burned raw, and my heart pounded so violently I feared it might burst from my chest.
I pressed a trembling hand against my ribs, desperately trying to calm myself, but my whole body quaked—fragile and unsteady.
The air felt dense, choking.
"Mr. Jenkin," Yoel choked out.
Jenkin?
Then I heard it.
"Get lost."
That voice—deep and authoritative—made my knees wobble beneath me.
I glanced up through watery eyes just as Yoel went rigid, all color draining from his face.
"I, uh..." Yoel stuttered, barely audible, his eyes flickering between me and Irvin as if calculating how monumentally he'd messed up.
Irvin remained silent. He didn't have to speak again.
Yoel bobbed his head frantically before bolting back into the club like a scared rabbit.
The quiet that settled was deafening.
