The next morning...
Ethan groaned as he sat up on his bed, his head pounding viciously like a hammer striking against his skull.
His mouth was dry, and his body ached from the previous night's reckless drinking.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall how he got home, but everything past his conversation with Damon was a blur.
He remembered storming out of the police station, anger boiling in his chest, and then drowning himself in alcohol at another bar.
After that, nothing... He rubbed his temple and was about to drag himself to the bathroom when the door to his room suddenly swung open.
Vivian stepped in, holding a cup in her hand. Her gaze settled on him, and she gave a small sigh of relief.
"You're awake," she said softly, as if she had been watching over him but Ethan's face hardened instantly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was rough, laced with irritation.
