Page 33 of Silver Elite

“This is your starting zone,” Ford says a few days later, pointing to the holoscreen. “And these two corridors over here—they’re the danger zone. You don’t want to be there when the timer goes off.”

Today’s drill is called Fallen Soldier. I’m paired with Lyddie, and we’re supposed to run it twice. The first time, I’m going to be injured and she’ll need to get me to safety. The second time, we’ll switch roles.

I wish I could concentrate, but all I can think about is Cross Redden moving inside me. His teeth biting into my shoulder as he finished.

My body clenches and I smother a curse, forcing the memory out of my mind. Jim told me never to dwell on my mistakes.

“The charge you’ve set will explode precisely forty-six seconds after I say go. The enemy tossed some smoke bombs into the hallway, so visibility will be low. Oh, and you’re not allowed to carry your fellow.”

“You want us to, what? Drag each other across the floor?” I say in irritation.

“Do whatever you need to do. Just make sure you’re out of the danger zone before the charge goes off.”

Sounds easy enough. Except when your fellow is deadweight and you have less than a minute to complete the op, it’s a lot harder than it seems. Throw in smoke so thick you can’t see three feet in front of you, and two hallways to try to navigate before you reach the designated safety zone, and this exercise is damn near impossible.

On Lyddie’s turn, we don’t even make it five feet before the timer goes off.

Fail.

We switch roles, returning to the starting zone. When Ford barks “Go” over my earpiece, we snap to action, entering the smoke-filled hallway. Lyddie gets on the ground, fulfilling the role of fallen soldier.

I have no idea where I’m going. Can’t see a damn thing. I’ll need to feel my way against the wall and somehow also drag Lyddie while searching for the escape route. It’s one thing to see the two hallways laid out on the holoscreen; it’s another to navigate them while completely blind. We’ve barely made it down the first hallway when I notice the countdown on my wrist source revealing we have fourteen seconds left.

The smoke grows thicker with each step, making it harder to breathe, but I refuse to give up. “Come on,” I urge Lyddie.

“We’re not going to make it, Wren.”

The countdown reaches zero.

Fail.

In the mess hall later, we hear some of our fellows discussing the drill. It’s Bryce’s table, and Ivy is there. Since she’s not in the company of the Psycho Brigade, I feel a lot more comfortable intruding on their conversation.

“How do you know that?” I call out.

Ivy glances over, frowning. “Know what?”

“I just heard Bryce say there are two assignments with a mandatory pass. How do you know Fallen Soldier is one of them?”

“Because I’ve already gone through the Program.” Her voice is curt.

“You made it all the way to the end?” For some reason I just assumed she got cut early.

“Yes,” she says stiffly.

“And you failed Fallen Soldier?”

“No.” Her pale eyes flicker with amusement. “Didn’t fail it today, either.”

“Wait, you passed?”

“We all did,” Bryce chimes in with a smug look.

“But none of you got your partners out,” I grumble.

“You know,” Ivy says, “you come off as this coldhearted bitch—”

“Thanks.”

“—yet you have a pathetic amount of compassion.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means they made it clear on the first day what they think about compassion. You’re not supposed to get to the safety zone, at least not both of you. You’re supposed to leave your partner behind,” she explains in a condescending tone.

Shit. Yeah. Seems like something the Command would encourage. The officers here like to promote unity—until they don’t. And then suddenly it’s every man and woman for themselves.

I suppose this is why everyone at the Psycho Brigade’s table is also in a good mood tonight. They all left their partners behind without batting an eye.

But I can’t do that.

We run the same test again the following day. This time I’m paired with Kaine, and I give him a determined look as we wait for our turn.

“There has to be a way to pass this without just abandoning your fellow.”

“You can abandon me,” he offers. “I won’t be insulted.”

Sure, I could do that just to get a check mark on my source next to this drill, but I enjoy the challenge. I feel like I can beat this test. I can’t carry him, and dragging him will be too damn hard, but there must be a way to beat it.

There isn’t a way.

Even after memorizing the layout and counting the steps necessary to get from the starting zone to the safety zone, there’s simply not enough time to pass this damn exercise.

When we’re ordered to switch roles, my dear friend Kaine has zero qualms about deserting me from the word Go. He smacks a kiss on my cheek and says, “It’s been nice knowing you, cowgirl.” And then the asswit dashes off.

Following suit, Lyddie ditches her partner, Kess, although that’s hardly an imposition. And with Ivy’s prior knowledge of this drill spreading through Black Cell, all our other fellows abandon their partners, too.

Only one recruit fails the drill. Guess who.

I’m not surprised when I’m summoned to Cross’s office later.

At this point, I could get there blindfolded. My boots thud on the polished walkway that leads to the building adjacent to the training center. Several corridors later, and I’m at the familiar door. Captain of Operations.

It buzzes open before I can knock.

My breathing feels a little weak as I step into the office. He’s leaning against his desk, clad in a black shirt and camo pants. I haven’t seen him since the night we ran the UCO together, the night he made my body burn like nobody else ever has.

I swallow, pushing the memory aside. Steeling myself against it.

“You only have one more shot at Fallen Soldier,” he informs me.

I blink. For some reason I expected him to bring up what happened. In this office. On that table. My gaze travels toward it, and when he notices, he offers a slight smirk.

“Tomorrow’s your last chance,” he adds.

“I’m not leaving my friends behind,” I complain. “Pair me with Kess. Or better yet, Anson. I’ll happily dance over his still-living body all the way to the end.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not supposed to be easy to leave your partner.”

The look I give him is loaded with challenge. “In all the time you’ve known me—I sure as hell spend enough time in this damn office—I’m surprised you haven’t figured out by now what matters to me.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow. “And what matters to you?”

“Loyalty.”

That gets me a snort. “Do you truly believe any of these people are loyal to you?”

“Some of them.”

I know Lyddie is, without a doubt. Kaine, too. Yes, he left me today in the hallway, but I know in a real-life crisis he wouldn’t.

“I think it’s easy to desert your partner when it’s a fake drill, but we’re not here training to be fake. I’m thinking about what I would do, really do, if I was facing this situation in real life.” I shrug. “And I know I would never leave a fellow behind. Not one I cared about or respected. I know you believe compassion is weakness—”

“It is weakness,” he says bluntly. “And in this scenario, it gets you killed.”

“Then I die with a friend. They don’t have to die alone.”

“You know what I think?” He pushes closer. “I think your confidence is misplaced. Your perceived sense of honor. I think it’s easy to take a stand right now, because the danger to your life is simulated, but you might make a very different choice when your life is truly at risk. When self-preservation kicks in.”

“Maybe. But here, in this situation, with this set of variables, I won’t do it. I’ll run your drill again tomorrow, but I can’t see myself making a different choice.”

“Even if it means failing out?”

Indecision slices through me. I’m the most stubborn person I know. If he pairs me with Lyddie or Kaine tomorrow, I don’t know if I can leave them in that hallway.

But I also promised Adrienne and the Uprising that I would get into Elite.

Is one silly drill worth risking my place in the Program? If this is what keeps me from Silver Block, maybe I do need to set my principles aside and compromise my sense of honor.

But is it honor? Truly?

Honor is Uncle Jim facing his firing squad without flinching or begging for his life. Honor is my parents infiltrating the Company so they could make life better for the Modified.

I know what Jim would say to me right now— do whatever you need to do to survive, little bird. But my parents…I suspect they’d take it a step further. Survive so you can help others do the same.

“Are we done here?” I ask Cross.

“No.”

It was too much to hope that he’d let me go without addressing it.

“I think about you before I go to sleep.”

I blink in shock.

He stalks up, jaw set in determination. I blink again, and he’s tugging me flush against his body. Letting me feel how hard he is for me.

“I think about this.”

He drags his hand up my hip, skimming the side of my breast, my collarbone, until his fingers slide over the nape of my neck to wind through my hair.

I peer into his heavy-lidded blue eyes and say, “I don’t think about you at all.”

Rather than take offense, he barks out a laugh. He twists a hunk of hair around his fingers. “I’m not used to this,” he admits.

“To what?”

“Being the one out of control.”

“I’m not used to being the one in control.” And I start to laugh, too.

His eyebrows lift in surprise.

“What?”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”

“That’s not true.”

“Without the sarcasm.”

“Oh. Fair.”

His lips curve. I like making him smile. I like seeing that dimple.

But it’s that warm burst of pleasure that reins me back in.

“We agreed it would never happen again,” I remind him.

“Maybe we should reconsider that stance.”

Slowly, he backs me into the door, surrounding me with scent, teasing my bare arm with his callused fingertips. I can feel his arousal, burning hot and fierce against my skin.

And oh, how I want to surrender to it, to lose myself in the heat of his touch.

“Or…maybe we should stick to the plan,” I force myself to say.

I ease out of his grasp and push the door open, leaving his frustrated expression at my back.

—

Later, when I’m putting my source away for the day, I notice there’s an update to my scores. I click it to discover my Fallen Soldier score has changed from Fail to Pass. I wonder how he’ll explain that one to his instructors.

I fight the smile that threatens to surface.

Kindness is weakness, huh? What does that make him then?

I wash the day away alone in the shower, thinking about Cross and how easy it would be to lose myself in him again. My body remembers that sensation. It craves it. But a small voice in the back of my mind whispers a warning. It could never work. Our loyalties can never be reconciled, and it scares me that every time his lips are on mine, I can’t bring myself to care about that.

When I slide the soap over my thigh, it snags over the patchwork of pink and red scars, puckered and raised like the jagged peaks of a mountain range against the backdrop of flesh. I run my fingers along the contours of the scars, a clear, indisputable reminder of why I can’t give in to Cross again. Even if I wanted to forget who I am and who he is, I can’t. My body won’t let me.

At lights-out, I settle under my blanket and manage to fall asleep faster than usual. Yet it feels like only minutes have passed when I’m suddenly yanked out of bed. Instinctively, I grasp for a weapon, but there’s nothing within reach. My knife is in the lav locker.

A scream gets caught in my throat as I’m dragged onto my bare feet. I hear other noises. Gasps. Startled curses. A high-pitched cry.

Then I feel a sharp prick at the side of my neck, and everything goes black.