Vivienne’s POV

I pace the small space of my room, the phone pressed so hard to my ear it feels like part of me. My hands tremble, a visible betrayal of my nerves. The ringing echoes in my head—three times, then four, stretching too long.

“Pick up the damn phone,” I mutter into the stillness, my voice barely audible over the harsh beats of my pulse. Five rings now.

At last, a gravelly voice answers, irritation dripping from the tone. “This had ...