VIVIAN POV.
The phone buzzed against the wooden table, vibrating loudly. I ignored it at first.
I was stretched out on the couch, head pounding, stomach turning from the god-awful amount of alcohol I had poured into myself the night before. My new drinking buddy had passed out long before me, leaving me to drown alone in the bitter burn of cheap whiskey.
The last time he called, he had asked for Mirabel.
I had waited for him to keep his end of the deal. I had waited for the help he promised.
But he never called back.
Until now.
The buzzing stopped. Then, it started again.
I groaned, rubbing a hand down my face. The temptation to throw the damn thing across the room was strong, but I controlled myself. I reached for it, snatching it off the table, and I answered, pressing the phone
