CLAIRE'S POV

The air inside the private jet was cool and smooth, and it smelled of leather and expensive champagne.

I sat near the window with a thick, soft blanket wrapped over my bandaged shoulders. The metal plates in my spine throbbed with a dull, steady ache, but the medicine drip attached to my arm kept the worst of the pain away. Every time the plane shook a little, the pain came back for a moment, like a small reminder that I was still flesh and bone under all that metal.

I did not remember much about how I got here. I remembered the crash of the iron pipe, the...