Page 35 of Silver Elite

We emerge exhausted, completely beaten down. The light hurts my eyes. I squint against it the entire drive back to base.

First thing I do is take a hot shower. It lasts two hours. I scrub the mud off me and wash my hair. My scalp itches, and I don’t even want to know what was crawling around on that dirty railcar floor.

After I’ve practically scoured my skin off, I go to the mess hall and am greeted by a sea of vacant faces. Everyone around me looks like they’re in shock. Even Kaine is subdued.

“That sucked,” he says dully.

“Wasn’t that bad,” I tell him.

“Fuck off.”

Lyddie is pale, her hands shaking as she picks at her food. It’s a good hearty meal. Real beef in the stew. Heady potatoes. Thick sauce. I gorge.

We have four days off before we need to report to class again. Everyone checks their sources to find they’ve been granted leisure passes for two of the days. An overnight.

Everyone except for me, that is.

I have to admit, it gets to me this time, not being able to leave the base. I don’t want to be here right now. I want to be on my ranch. I want to ride my horse and feel the summer wind on my face. But I refuse to cry in front of these people.

While my friends take advantage of their freedom, I roam the base, trying to ward off the loneliness that threatens to suffocate me. Even Cross isn’t here. He’s not chasing me anymore, and I don’t know if I should be disappointed about that, or relieved because it’s what I asked for.

No, that’s not true. I know which way I should feel.

But it’s not what I feel.

On my evening walk, I reach out to Wolf, but he doesn’t answer, so I try Tana instead. She lets me link, greeting me in a glum tone. She sounds as unhappy as I feel.

“I miss you,” I confess.

“I miss you so much,” she replies with a moan. “I hate it here, Wren.”

“The soldier presence is still heavy?”

“Yes. So many of them that the barracks at Controller Fletcher’s station are full, which means the overflow is coming to the inn. Which means I deal with them on a daily basis.”

“Are they giving you any trouble?”

“Not yet. But they’re constantly watching everyone. There’s always at least half a dozen of them at the pub from open to close, watching my dad.”

“Shit. Okay, well, let me know if you notice anything suspicious, or if they start harassing you.”

I go back to the training center and read a mystery novel on my source. But I get bored fast, so I venture toward the common room, finding only a handful of Red Cell members I’ve never bothered getting to know.

Lyddie and Kaine return on Sunday. As does Lash, who tells us about his exciting visit home. Apparently, his parents secured a gathering permit to celebrate his mother’s birthday, and one of the guests almost choked to death on a chicken bone at dinner.

The following day, we file into the cavernous classroom where two months ago I walked in wishing I were anywhere else. We’re supposed to get our final scores for the Program today and find out who made it into Silver Block. Weeks of training have culminated in this moment, and there’s an air of excitement as everyone remains standing, waiting for our instructors.

The room is not as full as it was that first day. Of the fifty-six recruits who started the Program, thirty-six remain. I remember Ford mocking that half of us would be gone by the end, but this is more than fifty percent.

I wring my hands together as anxiety swirls in my belly. I think I passed the Program. At least I hope I did. I don’t know whether my poor performance from the first few sections will come back to hauntme.

My nerves intensify when Ford, Hadley, and Struck show up, and Hadley proceeds to list eleven names. Mine isn’t one of them, and I fight a crushing sense of defeat as—

“Thank you for your interest in Silver Block,” Hadley tells the eleven recruits. “However, you haven’t been accepted at this time.”

The relief almost knocks me over.

Hadley keeps his tone brisk, ignoring the disappointed faces. “Please report to your current COs or check in with Captain Radek about returning to your wards.”

The rejected recruits march out the door. We’re down to twenty-five, just under Ford’s fifty percent cut rate. I guess he wasn’t kidding.

The admin captain, Deron Radek, shows up then to address the rest of us.

“Welcome to Silver Block. You’ll receive your posts and uniforms in the next couple of days,” he says without preamble. “Until you’re relocated to your new quarters, you’ll remain in the barracks.”

At that, he stalks out. I like the way Captain Radek operates. Efficient and to the point.

“Your final scores have been uploaded to your sources,” Ford tells us. “If you have any questions about them, send a comm to Captain Radek. Dismissed.”

That’s it.

The three instructors leave the room, and I frown at the empty doorway. This whole affair feels incredibly anticlimactic.

Congratulations, you’re in Silver Block, see you later.

Lyddie, however, makes up for our superiors’ total lack of enthusiasm by letting out a squeal of joy. Turning toward me, she looks like she just won an exotic vacation to the Lost Continents.

“We made it!”

“We made it,” I echo.

She throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly before doing the same to Kaine. Our other fellows are also celebrating. Lash. Kess. Anson.

Ivy.

I nod at her, my way of saying congratulations. Ivy nods back before turning to hug Bryce.

Roe made it, too, I note. Guess the General got his way.

“I want to see my final score,” Lyddie says, scrambling to pull her source from her pocket.

Me too. I’m curious to see how I managed to turn things around, but at the same time disappointed because nobody said a word about Silver Elite, which was my only objective. I have no clue if I succeeded in doing the one thing the Uprising asked me to do.

When I open my source, rather than a score I find a screen that says:

available test: 1

I click on that, and another page pops up, a description of the test. This one says:

elite

There’s a date and time beside it. It’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.

I bite my lip to contain my excitement.

Lyddie peers over my shoulder and gasps. “You’ve been shortlisted! This must be the final test to get into Elite.”

“I got the same message,” Kaine says, twisting his source toward me.

A few others are now exclaiming over the message. The final count ends up being twelve. Twelve of the twenty-five recruits made the short list. The number seems quite high. How many of us will earn a slot?

I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow.

On our way to the door, I catch a glimpse of Roe, and a shiver runs through me. His expression is murderous, which tells me that maybe the General didn’t get his way, after all.

Roe wasn’t shortlisted.

—

It’s a pit night, so everyone decides to celebrate the end of the Program by watching our fellows beat the crap out of each other. I still don’t own any civilian clothes, other than the outfit I borrowed from Betima, but it feels wrong to wear it tonight. My heart clenches at the memory of her. Lyddie told me the rest of Betima’s stuff was returned to her ward. I wonder what happened to her family. Were they detained? Interrogated about whether they knew she was Aberrant?

Lyddie interrupts my thoughts. “Let’s ask Soldier Struck if we can borrow something from the UCO wardrobe room.”

Before I can protest, she dashes across the mess hall to speak to our now former instructor. Struck glances my way, then shrugs.

Lyddie returns to our table to say, “She says it’s fine as long as you return it in the morning.”

That’s how I end up walking into the warehouse that night wearing a slinky red dress with a neckline so dangerous it would probably send me to the stockade if Cross weren’t my captain.

Kaine’s eyes nearly pop out of the sockets when he sees me. “Hell, cowgirl, are you trying to kill me?” Desire thickens his voice.

It’s been a while since he’s looked at me like that. I didn’t think he’d lost interest, though. I’ve noticed that Kaine takes the Program seriously and always puts our training first. As much as he likes to flirt, he doesn’t allow himself to get distracted, and these last few sections have been highly intensive, requiring all our focus.

Tonight his focus is on me.

“You know what I think?” He waits for Lyddie and Lash to walk ahead before moving closer to whisper in my ear. “I think we should turn around and go back to the barracks. They’ll be empty…”

A week or two ago, I might’ve been tempted. Now…

Now I know what it feels like to have Cross naked and groaning in my ear.

I shake my head in regret, glad that he’s not able to read my mind. It’s too chaotic in there right now. “We have a test tomorrow. I can’t afford the distraction.”

Kaine purses his lips before nodding. “Good point.”

I’m relieved he drops the issue so readily, though I wonder what I’ll say next time it comes up. I can’t tell him I slept with Cross, and I certainly can’t tell him that our captain has completely messed with my head. That I wore this dress for Cross. That I—

Guilt jams in my throat and closes around my windpipe as something suddenly becomes apparent to me.

I’ve forgotten why I’m here.

What am I doing? This is not my life. I shouldn’t be donning sexy dresses and celebrating with Primes. I haven’t even made it into Elite, damn it. That’s the objective. Not to drink whiskey and have a good time at the fights with my friends.

They’re not my friends.

These aren’t my people, and I’m not one of them.

This isn’t my life.

I halt in my tracks, touching Kaine’s arm. “I’m going to use the lav,” I mumble, then pivot on the heel of my strappy silver shoe. I need to leave. Go back to the barracks.

I don’t belong here.

Halfway down the corridor, I see him.

He’s walking with Ford and one of the men who interrogated me in the railcar. Mr. Muscles, whose gaze flicks my way before dismissing me as if he’s never seen me before in his life. As if he wasn’t punching me in the face for five days straight.

My dress barely covers my thighs. I know Cross notices.

He says something to Ford and Mr. Muscles, who walk off without him. Ford smirks at me as he passes, leaving me and Cross to face off in the shadowy corridor.

Keep walking, orders a voice in my head.

Five seconds ago, I’d determined I shouldn’t be here. That I’m in over my head and no longer have sight of the mission.

Of reality.

But one look at his piercing blue eyes and I’m frozen in place.

His lips turn up slightly. “Did you wear that for me?”

“Yes,” I admit, and I hate myself for it.

“Are you leaving?”

I nod.

Then I shake my head.

The smile takes root, curving his mouth and softening his expression. “Which is it, Dove?”

Rather than answer, I plant my hand in the center of his chest and push him backward. His grin widens. In an atypical act of submission, he allows me to lead him. Down the hall, around the corner, until we’re concealed behind one of the concrete pillars.

This is where he grabbed me the first time I came here. When he was taunting me. When he said I wanted him so bad I could taste it.

Well, I’ve had a taste. I’ve tasted his lips, and I want to taste them again.

One more time won’t be the end of the world, will it?

His hands find my waist, pulling my body tight to his.

I fight to keep my composure, even as my blood burns with desire. Deep down, I can’t deny the rush of exhilaration that courses through me at his touch. The anticipation coiling in my core.

“I want it,” he growls in my ear.

“I know.”

He laughs, and the husky sound triggers a jolt of electricity inside me. “Tell me you want it, too.”

I respond by wrapping my arms around his neck and tugging his head down. His lips capture mine with a fierceness that steals my breath. I gasp and he takes full advantage by sliding his skillful tongue through the seam of my lips. I moan when the tip of it teases mine.

“I love that sound. The little noises you make, Dove, when I make you feel good.”

He cups my ass and lifts me against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, moaning again as he rolls his hips. I feel every inch of him. He could take me right here—hell, he could take me out there, in front of everyone—and I wouldn’t care. The need is too strong. I’m clawing at him, kissing him back with an urgency that makes me dizzy. Frantic.

We’re both out of breath when he pulls back.

“Come to my quarters tonight?”

I nod. Because I want him more than I ever thought possible.

“Cross…”

And that’s when we hear his name traveling down the hall. A singsong voice.

We both frown. It suddenly registers. The silence. I can no longer hear laughter or music from the makeshift arena.

All I hear is, “Cross…Where are you, Cross?”

He sets me down. His lips are swollen from our kisses, but I can tell he’s no longer here with me. Frowning, he stalks toward the corridor.

I hurry after him. His stride is long, purposeful. He’s out of sight before I even step into the main room. I push my way through the eerily quiet crowd. When I reach the ledge, I peer down and spot him in the pit.

Roe.

He brightens at the sight of Cross, who’s emerged from the crowd several feet away from me.

“There you are, Captain.” Sarcasm drips from each word, especially Captain. I think he’s on stims. He’s always on stims.

Cross doesn’t answer. He stares five feet below at his younger brother, waiting.

“I’m calling you out,” Roe taunts.

“Are you now?” Cross mocks him.

The room is deathly silent. I notice a lot of wary, perplexed faces. But I know what’s going on.

Roe’s pissed about Elite and looking to take it out on his brother.

“We haven’t knocked each other around in a while. Not since we were kids.”

“Probably best to keep it that way,” Cross says evenly.

“Nah. I think we’re long overdue.” Roe’s eyes gleam, and suddenly he’s addressing the crowd. “Captain of Silver Block, everyone!” He waves his arm in an extravagant flourish. “Come on, give him some encouragement.”

Not a single person utters a word. They all feel the tension. It hangs over us like a storm cloud.

“Get down here, brother,” Roe says, and I shiver at the sheer depth of the hatred darkening his face.

This is something that’s been brewing between them for a long time. Their whole lives, probably. I remember the resentment lacing Roe’s voice in the railroad car. You don’t know shit about my brother. Either of them. You didn’t have to grow up with them.

Cross is four years older than him. I wonder if Roe idolized him when they were kids. I wonder how Cross responded to that. I wonder if Roe’s warning to Ivy during RTI was not about her, but himself.

You loved him too much. He doesn’t want to be loved that hard.

“Are you scared, brother?”

I see the moment Cross resigns himself to the fact he needs to do this. Roe won’t stop. He’ll stay down there all night if he has to.

Cross’s gaze flicks my way. Then, without another word, he heaves himself over the ledge and jumps five feet into the pit. His boots collide with packed sand.

“You really want to do this? Let’s do this.”

He doesn’t strip off his shirt. Doesn’t do anything but stand two feet from Roe and wait.

Roe frowns.

Then he charges at his brother.

Cross releases a right hook that catches Roe in the eye, followed by a jab so fast I would’ve missed it if I’d blinked. Roe barely has time to react before the second blow lands squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

But the teenager refuses to back down. He’s too proud. He throws himself back into the fray.

Blow after blow rain down upon him, each strike landing with bone-crushing force as his older brother unleashes a relentless barrage of attacks. Roe growls his rage. Spits out the blood that pours from his nose, his cheek, his mouth. He swings his fists in a wild, desperate attempt to defend himself, but no matter how hard he tries, he’s no match for Cross.

It’s embarrassingly obvious there is no comparison. At all. By any conceivable measure.

And yet he can’t shut his mouth. Can’t admit defeat.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Roe sneers, while his chest heaves with exertion and red rivulets drip down his face and onto the sand. “Pathetic.”

Shoulders tightening, Cross puts an end to it.

With a final, brutal strike, Roe crumples to the sand in a bloody heap, his body battered from the onslaught. He peers up at his older brother through swollen eyes.

“Fuck you, Cross.”

“You wanted it, brother.” Cross is cold and unforgiving. “Consider this your education.”

“You’re a fucking asshole!”

“And you’re a spoiled little prick.”

“Fuck you!” Roe is screaming at him.

Cross just shakes his head and leaves him broken and defeated on the sand, gasping for breath.

A trickle of fear goes through me.

As Cross hauls himself up the ledge, his gaze slides toward me for a moment. Then he breaks eye contact and disappears into the crowd.