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SLOANE
I lazily sat on my plush couch and closed my eyes in frustration. My eyelids getting heavier each minute passing by.
The air smelled faintly of vanilla and old books, a comforting scent that usually put me at ease, but tonight, I felt anything but relaxed. Bored as heck.
Vivian, sprawled lazily in an armchair across from me, twirled a strand of dark hair around her finger, her sharp gaze fixed on me like a cat studying its prey.
“You looked unwell yesterday,” Vivian remarked, her voice light but laced with curiosity.
I froze for a fraction of a second before forcing myself to remain composed. Yesterday was a hell of a ride and I did not want to even think about it.
I knew Vivian—knew how relentless she could be once she got a whiff of something interesting. But I
