Page 24 of Silver Elite

I sit on the uncomfortable infirmary bed, my broken wrist cradled against my chest. As far as chewing off limbs go, this wasn’t so bad. The pain has dulled to a mere throb. It hurts, but not as much as before.

That could also be due to the fentaphine injection.

But still.

The door swings open. I look up, expecting the female doctor who took my X-rays.

It’s Cross. He strides in, wearing his navy-blue uniform, a deep frown creasing his brow.

“Dr. Harumi says it’s fractured in multiple places,” I say helpfully. “One of the carpal bones is shattered completely.”

He nods. “I heard.”

“She’s recommending surgery. And a cast. Eight weeks.”

“Look at you, so educated about medical treatments.” He approaches the bed. “Why didn’t you tap out?”

“Couldn’t. My arms were pinned.”

“A verbal tap would’ve sufficed.”

“She wasn’t going to let me.”

He nods again.

I don’t like his lack of expression.

“Cross.” I cringe at the pleading note in my voice.

A brow rises.

“I can’t train like this.”

“No,” he agrees as he heads back to the door. “You can’t.”

His words are not at all encouraging. He wouldn’t surrender this easily.

I’m not wrong.

I sit there for another two hours before someone returns. A man in his late twenties or early thirties with close-cropped hair and a lanky frame.

He’s Modified.

I instantly clock that fact, as his short sleeves provide a clear view of his forearms and wrists. His right wrist bears the black band. No red to be seen.

I try to mask my distaste. A loyalist.

“Hello, Wren,” he says, approaching the bed. His presence exudes an aura of calm assurance, but his piercing eyes seem to see right through me. “I’m Ellis. Heard you broke your wrist.”

“Who are you?”

“I just told you.” He chuckles.

“You know what I mean.”

He notes my gaze on his wrist and smiles. Instead of answering my question, he says, “You must be very important.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because they dispatched a speed craft all the way to Red Post to collect me. Flew me back here without even letting me gather my gear.”

I know from the study sessions Lyddie’s been cramming down my throat that Red Post is the Command outpost that’s farthest north. At the very tip of Ward A.

“Who are you?” I repeat.

He ambles toward the wall that contains the X-ray screen. He flicks on the light and studies my scan while I continue to study him. He’s wearing khaki trousers and a white collared shirt. He’s not a soldier. A doctor, maybe.

“Are you the surgeon?”

His lips curve. “Something like that.” He’s eyeing my injured wrist as he walks back to the bed.

The closer he gets, the higher my guard rises. Everything about this man unnerves me.

Ellis rubs his hands together. “They don’t usually request my services for recruits,” he admits.

His services?

My gaze sharply returns to his hand, but the black band is no longer the mark that matters. Another one has caught my attention: the bloodmark on the center of his palm, a perfect circle about an inch wide.

He offers a shrug. “Like I said, you must be important enough to merit healing.”

I recoil at that, my heart pounding in my chest. “I don’t need healing. I need surgery.”

“Surgery to fix your wrist.”

“Yes.”

“The wrist I can fix right now in less than five minutes and with zero recovery time.”

My mind reels from the implications of his words. I broke bones and instead of permitting me to undergo surgery for it, they flew in a healer to fix me.

Defeat crashes over me as I realize I’m out of options. I tried to chew my way out of the trap, and I failed.

I’m never leaving this base.

Cross isn’t going to let me.

“May I?” Ellis nods at my arm.

Bitterness churns in my stomach. With it comes a sense of resignation and the urge to burst into tears.

I nod back.

Ellis places both hands on my forearm and gently pulls it straight. His movements are firm and measured, causing a bolt of pain to shoot through me.

“It’ll stop hurting soon,” he promises, then wraps his fingers around my wrist and forearm.

I hold my breath, waiting for the flow of energy I assume will come.

Within seconds, it happens. A tingling sensation washes over me, starting at the tips of my fingers and spreading up my arm like wildfire. I bite my lip as I feel the bones in my wrist realigning themselves, the pain melting away. A strange rush of heat penetrates my flesh, like the rays of the sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day.

I’ve never been healed by a Mod before. It’s astounding how quickly the pain begins to dissipate. The warmth flowing beneath my flesh. The pins and needles in my bones. I can feel them knitting back together with each passing second. The healing energy envelops me, sealing my fate.

“You don’t have any questions,” murmurs Ellis.

I lift my gaze to his inquiring one. “What?”

“Everyone I heal asks questions. How I do it. How my mere touch can mend bones and soothe wounds with nothing more than the power of my mind.”

“I don’t care how you do it as long as it gets done.”

But I can’t deny there is a sense of awe as he continues to work, his palms pressed over me as if, by sheer force of will, he can command the fabric of reality itself.

When he finally withdraws his hands, I flex my newly healed wrist, marveling at the strength that now courses through it. Then I remember why I broke it in the first place, and my spirits sink like a stone.

“Thank you,” I say tightly.

“My pleasure.”

Once he’s gone, I close my eyes, fighting back tears of frustration. This isn’t how things were supposed to be.

Dr. Harumi returns to examine me, clucking happily at my miraculous recovery, then dismisses me. I’m subdued when I return to the barracks. I missed dinner, but I don’t care. My appetite left me around the same time as all my hopes of getting off this base.

“Wren!” Lyddie jumps up from her bed. “Your wrist!”

“All better,” I joke weakly, holding it up.

Kaine, who was reading on his source, slides into a sitting position. He’s bare-chested, his hair rumpled. “They have a healer on the base?” he says in surprise.

“They flew one in from an outpost.”

“Whoa.” Those green eyes, usually so playful, narrow at me. Kaine’s a lot shrewder than those lazy smiles lead you to believe.

“I guess it’s good to know they won’t let us break bones here,” remarks Lyddie.

“I’ll just have to break it all over again tomorrow,” a snide Kess calls from her bunk.

“Piss off, Kess,” I mutter. I’m done with that bitch today.

“You okay?” Lyddie asks me.

“Just tired. I’m going to change for bed.”

I hit the lav, where I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My face is…aglow. The dullness of my eyes contrasts with the sudden radiance of my skin. Whatever Ellis did to me, his energy seems to be flowing from the inside out.

I slide into bed, truly exhausted, ready to forget the entire world. But then I feel the poke in my mind, and I realize the world has not forgotten about me.

For the first time in weeks, since the night I arrived in the Point desperate to rescue Jim, I hear from Declan.

The network has decided to grace me with their presence.

I squeeze my eyelids shut, every muscle in my body trembling. That’s how angry I am when I open the link.

“You fucking asshole! You left me here to rot!”

“If I’d known you were going to be this dramatic, I would have kept the link closed.”

“What do you want?” I’m tired. Pissed off. Beyond betrayed. Yet despite that, a spark of hope flickers to life, eclipsing the despair that’s threatened to consume me since the moment Roe killed Betima.

“Adrienne will meet you tomorrow night.”

“Who the hell is Adrienne?”

“Midnight. The vehicle pool on the west end of the base.”

“There are cameras everywhere—”

“There won’t be tomorrow.”

“How—”

“Midnight,” he repeats before his voice floats out of my mind.