POV: Clara

Pain woke me before the sun.

It wasn’t mine.

I twisted in bed, unthinking, a sharp stinging of my ribs, the same place Daniel’s claws had gouged Rourke open. For a second, I was disoriented, lost. The world was color and breath and hurt—white light behind my eyes, and the taste of iron on the back of my throat.

When the pain receded, I found myself on the floor, still sweating. The tether was glowing, the bond thrumming under my ribs.

I laid my ...