POV: Daniel

The tether had been vibrating all night. Quietly, steadily, with an insistent hum that kept me up and keyed to its quiet thrumming.

And then, it shifted.

Abruptly.

It exploded.

The first time I felt it, Clara was doubled over in her own kitchen.

The wrench in her gut. The bitterness in her throat. The sound of her gag, even through the tether, sliced through me like steel until I was doubled over the table in my own loft, my claws gouging dark ...