The interior of the Maybach was silent as a tomb.

Harper pressed herself against the door, trying to put as much distance between them as possible. Finn was reading news on a tablet, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. He seemed completely at ease, while Harper felt like she was vibrating out of her skin.

"Fifty million dollars," he said suddenly.

Harper blinked. "What?"

He didn't look up. "That's the estimated cost of my medical bills over the last ten years. Surgeries. Rehabilitation. Retrofitting the manor. The exoskeleton prototypes."

He turned to look at Harper then. "That is the debt you owe me, Harper."

"I... I can't pay that."

"I know. You're worth nothing." His words were factual, not emotional, which made them hurt more. "So, we will work out a payment plan in trade."

"Trade?" Harper's stomach dropped. "I won't... I won't sleep with you."

Finn laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. "Don't flatter yourself. I have no interest in the girl who crippled me."

He gestured to his legs, covered by a cashmere blanket. "You broke them. You fix them."

"I'm not a doctor," Harper lied.

"You're a liar," he countered. "I saw what you did to King. You have skills. You will be my personal caretaker. You will be on call twenty-four seven. You will manage my pain. You will help me bathe. You will help me dress."

"You have nurses for that."

"I fired them. I want you." His eyes darkened. "I want you to see the damage you caused. Every single day."

The car slowed. They were turning off the highway, onto the private road that led to the cliffs.

The iron gates of Burke Manor loomed out of the mist. They groaned as they opened, like the jaws of a beast.

The car stopped in the circular driveway.

The door opened. Silas was there with the wheelchair.

Harper stepped out into the drizzle. A line of staff stood on the steps. They looked at her with open hostility. They remembered. Everyone remembered.

"The Prodigal Daughter returns," Finn mocked as he settled into his chair.

They entered the grand foyer. The marble floor was checkered black and white. A massive chandelier hung overhead.

Harper's eyes were drawn upward, to the second-floor balcony that overlooked the hall.

The fall.

She could almost hear the scream.

Harper stopped walking, her breath hitching.

Finn stopped too. He spun his chair around. "Enjoying the view?"

"I didn't do it," Harper said. Her voice was quiet but firm. "Ciera pushed me."

The air in the room dropped ten degrees.

Finn rolled toward Harper until his knees were touching her shins. He grabbed her wrist.

"Do not," he hissed, "say her name in this house. Ciera is a saint. She tried to save you. You... you are the rot at the center of this family."

He released Harper with a shove.

"Get her out of my sight," he ordered the head housekeeper. "Put her in the Tower Room."

The housekeeper's name was Elena. She had a face like a pinched lemon and eyes that said she'd happily poison Harper's soup.

"This way," she snapped.

She led Harper up the grand staircase, past the second floor, up a narrow, winding flight of stairs to the third floor. This was the servants' quarters, or maybe the attic.

She opened a door at the end of the hall.

"Here."

The room was small. Round. It was inside one of the turrets. The walls were bare stone. There was a single bed, a small sink, and a window.

The window had iron bars on it.

"It's a cell," Harper said.

"It's what you deserve," Elena spat. She grabbed Harper's backpack from her shoulder. "Mr. Burke says no contraband."

"Hey!"

She dumped the contents onto the floor. Harper's few clothes, a toothbrush, a book on neuroanatomy. And her leather roll.

Elena kicked the leather roll. "What is this? Drug paraphernalia?"

"Don't touch that."

Harper's voice dropped an octave. She stepped forward.

Elena sneered and bent down to pick it up. "I'm throwing this trash out."

Harper moved.

She didn't think about it. She grabbed Elena's wrist, her thumb pressing into the Taiyuan point. She applied just enough pressure to send a shockwave of pain up Elena's radial nerve.

Elena shrieked and dropped the roll. She clutched her arm, staring at Harper in horror.

"You... you witch!"

"Leave it," Harper said, her chest heaving. "Get out."

Elena backed away, fear warring with anger in her eyes. "I'm telling Mr. Burke! You're going to regret this!"

She slammed the door. Harper heard the lock click from the outside.

She was locked in.

Harper sank to the floor, gathering her tools. They were safe.

She looked around the room. It was a birdcage. A gilded, stone birdcage.

Harper went to the window. The rain was lashing against the glass. She looked at the bars. They were old iron, set deep into the stone. But...

She squinted. The spacing. It was about six inches.

Most people couldn't fit their head through that. But Harper wasn't most people. She had hyper-mobility. It was a genetic quirk of the Solis line, enhanced by years of yoga and contortion training for the circus.

She could dislocate her shoulders. She could compress her ribcage.

If she could get out, she could climb down the ivy. The wall wasn't that high here.

Harper checked the door. Locked solid.

She looked at the window again. It was madness. It was dangerous.

But she couldn't stay here. Not with Finn. Not with the memories.

Harper waited until the house went quiet. Until the lights in the garden dimmed.

She stripped off the sequined bodysuit and put on her dark leggings and a tight black t-shirt. She tied her hair back.

She approached the window.

"Sorry, Finn," she whispered. "I don't do cages."

The rain was Harper's cover. It was a torrential downpour, loud enough to mask any noise she made.

She opened the window. The wind howled, soaking her instantly.

She looked at the bars. Okay. Left shoulder first.

Harper took a deep breath and pushed. She felt the sickening pop as she voluntarily subluxated her left shoulder joint. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shot through her arm. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

She slid her arm and head through the gap. Then her chest. She exhaled all the air from her lungs, making herself as flat as possible. Her ribs scraped against the iron.

She was halfway out.

Harper had to twist her torso at an unnatural angle, her spine screaming in protest, to get her hips through the narrow opening. Her skin scraped raw against the rusted metal.

She fell onto the small ledge outside the window.

Harper sat there for a moment in the pouring rain, gasping, shaking. She grabbed her left arm and slammed it back into the socket. A fresh wave of nausea hit her, but the arm worked.

She looked down. Three stories. Thick ivy covered the stone.

Harper grabbed the vines. They were slick but strong.

She began to descend.

Her hands slipped. Her boots scrambled for purchase. But she moved fast. Down. Down. Down.

Her feet hit the muddy grass.

She was out.

Harper stayed low, moving like a shadow toward the perimeter wall. She knew where the cameras were-she had spotted them from the car. She weaved through the blind spots.

The wall was twelve feet high. She ran at it, planted her foot, and vaulted up, grabbing the top edge.

She pulled herself up.

Freedom. Just over this wall was the road.

Harper swung her leg over.

Click.

A blinding beam of light hit her in the face.

She froze, straddling the wall.

Below her, on the other side, stood a phalanx of security guards holding black umbrellas.

And in the center, sitting in his wheelchair under a large canopy, was Finn.

He was holding a steaming mug of coffee. He looked like he had been waiting for hours.

"Impressive," he called out. His voice carried over the rain. "Better than the circus act."

Harper squinted against the light. "Let me go, Finn."

"Jump," he said calmly. "Go ahead. Run."

He gestured to the guard on his right. The man raised a rifle. It wasn't a lethal weapon-it was a tranquilizer gun.

"You'll make it maybe ten yards before you're unconscious in a ditch," Finn said. "Then I'll drag you back. It's undignified."

Harper looked at the road. Then at the gun. Then at Finn.

She was trapped.

Defeated, she swung her leg back over and dropped down into the mud on the inside of the wall.

She walked toward him, head bowed, water streaming off her nose. She stopped in front of his wheelchair. She was shivering violently.

Finn handed his coffee cup to Silas.

"You thought I didn't know?" he asked softly. "I have thermal sensors in the walls, Harper. I watched you pop your shoulder out. It was... grotesque."

"Why are you doing this?" Harper whispered.

"Because you belong to me."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black metal ring. It pulsed with a faint red light.

"Give me your hand."