Page 36 of Silver Elite

The next afternoon, the twelve of us meet in the gym. None of the instructors have arrived yet, and my fellows hypothesize what’s going on while we wait for direction.

“I think we all got in,” says one of the female fellows from Red Cell.

“They’re not letting twelve soldiers join Elite,” Noah Jones replies. “I bet they shortlisted twelve knowing that some of us will fail the final test.”

Standing beside me is Bryce. I can’t deny I’m surprised to see her here, although I suppose she did excel in some of the training sections. And the girl is fearless, I’ll give her that. She was the first to jump out of the plane during our parachuting drills.

“Daddy!” She lights up when a man suddenly steps through the door.

Bryce rushes up to a tall, dark-haired man with five stars on his Silver Block uniform. A colonel. He doesn’t hug her. Rather, he greets her with a brisk nod, as if she’s a colleague.

“You came to watch my final test?” I hear her ask, and on my other side, Kaine pokes me in the ribs.

“I didn’t realize we were inviting people to this,” he drawls, and I hide a laugh.

It doesn’t surprise me that Bryce wanted her father to witness her glorious achievement. All she’s done for two months is prattle on about how important he is.

I study the others on the shortlist. Me, Bryce, and Kaine. Kess. Jones. Anson, of course. That psychopath can carry out any mission he’s ordered. The other six recruits are members of Red Cell.

I’m still wondering what the selection process was when Cross enters the gym, tailed by Ford and Struck. The trio salute Bryce’s father, the colonel, who stands against the wall to give them the floor.

I haven’t seen Cross since he stormed out of the pit last night. I think about how close I was to going home with him, seconds before he beat the shit out of his brother without batting an eye.

He doesn’t even look my way as he addresses the group.

“You’re all here because you’re being considered for Elite. There are six available slots.”

My heart sinks. Six slots, and twelve recruits angling for them. I’m starting to have a bad feeling about this.

“Who fills those slots is simple,” he says. “Two of you are going to walk into a room, and only one will walk out.”

Jaws drop.

“What? I’m not killing anybody,” Jones balks.

“Did I say anything about killing?” Cross sounds bored. “Each room has two knives in it. Do with them what you want. If your opponent taps out, they’re out.” He sweeps his gaze over the room. “If you tap out, relax. You’re still a member of Silver Block. You’ll be assigned to a unit and be just fine. Victor is assigned to Elite.”

It’s so simple and so stupid.

“Why don’t you just pick based on merit?” demands one of the Red Cell males.

“This is merit. Whoever’s better will walk out of the room first. So be better.”

Kaine and I exchange a look. Of the twelve of us, there are six males and six females, so unless they’re using co-ed pairings, only three women will get into Elite.

I eye my potential opponents. I don’t want to go up against Kess. Yes, I’ve kicked her ass before, but she’s a vicious little creature. One of the Red Cell girls looks optimal. Short, slight, and nonexistent muscle mass.

But when my name is called first, it’s followed by “Granger.”

I’m facing Bryce.

Which does bring a twinge of relief. This’ll be easy. I have every confidence I can get her to tap out. Bryce knows it, too—I see the defeat settle over her when she hears our names.

We’re assigned a room number—3—and ordered to leave without getting to hear any of the other pairs. Bryce and I walk down the hall in silence. When we enter Room 3, we find it completely empty. No furniture, no windows. I assume the mirror against the wall is the kind they use for interrogations.

Two knives sit on the concrete floor.

I wonder who Kaine was paired with. I hope it’s Anson and he slits the bastard’s throat.

The door suddenly closes behind us. We hear it lock with an electronic beep.

Bryce glances up at the blinking camera mounted to the corner of the ceiling. She studies the mirror. Then, with a miserable expression, she leans closer to whisper in my ear.

“Please let me have this.”

Pity ripples through me. “You know I can’t.”

I’ve been tasked with joining this unit. That’s my one and only objective. Besides, we both know this girl wouldn’t last a minute in an elite squad. She’s not good enough.

Her jaw tightens. “Then I guess we fight for it.”

“Guess so.”

We eye each other for a moment. And I’ll admit it—she completely catches me off guard when she blasts forward like a rocket, snatching one knife off the floor while kicking the other away.

I scramble after the skittering blade, managing to wrap my hand around the cold handle just as Bryce attacks. I dodge her, but she’s good. Fast. She slashes the air, then pivots to protect herself from my blade. I grab her by the wrist and wrench her toward me as I jam my free fist under her chin. Her head rears back. She doesn’t drop the knife, though.

“Bitch,” she snaps.

She charges again. I trip her before the knife can sink into my flesh, and we crash to the floor, grappling for control. Her blade hisses past my ear. I curse when I feel a sting in my neck. She nicked me. I elbow her in the throat, and she gags.

I didn’t expect such a brutal fight.

From Bryce, of all people.

With a cry of anger, I slam the knife handle into her face. I don’t want to use the blade. I don’t want to hurt this girl. But I have a sinking feeling there’s no way she’s ever going to tap out. Not with her father behind that mirror.

Panting, I get her beneath me, pinning her wrist under my knee, rendering her knife completely useless. Her gaze flits toward the mirror.

“Tap out,” I beg her.

She keeps fighting. There’s too much fight in her. She’s better than she was when we sparred. I know her father’s presence is fueling her actions.

I blink, and suddenly she gains the upper hand. She’s on top of me, smashing her knuckles into my face. My cheekbone ripples with pain. She grabs my wrist and slams it against the floor, once, twice, hard enough that my fingers instinctively unclasp the handle. My knife goes clattering across the room.

Bryce releases a triumphant noise, but I manage to kick out from under her and roll away, crawling toward the knife. I’ve just reached it when the hot burn of pain hisses through my upper arm. She sliced me. Goddamn quat. A spray of blood blossoms from the gash in my arm. And then she’s on me again, straddling my hips.

“Tap out,” she growls. Feral.

“No,” I grind out.

Her spittle wets my face. “I’m either leaving this room as Elite or dead, Wren.”

I hear the truth in those words. That she would rather die than bring shame to her father. She would actually rather die.

But I’m equally determined. I need this. I need it for Uncle Jim. Need it if I want my revenge against the people who killed him. If I’m going to bring this entire organization down from the inside.

Do you really want to die in this room?

My mother was willing to die for the Modified. Maybe I am, too. Maybe I need to take my own stand.

With a surge of adrenaline, I flip us over, tightening my grip on the knife. I need her to tap out. Somehow I have to make her. As Bryce slashes at me, I sink my blade into her thigh, summoning a strangled cry from her throat.

“Tap out,” I plead.

“No.”

She tries to thrust her knife at my throat, but I deflect. I pull my blade out of her thigh and implore her with my eyes. There’s blood everywhere. All over the floor.

“Please, Bryce, just tap out.”

Her breath escapes in shallow gasps. I suddenly notice she doesn’t look too good. Her face is devoid of color, whiter than the walls.

That’s when I realize how deep I cut her. The blood pours out of her wound like a steady stream from a faucet. She continues swinging at me, but half-hearted now. I see her energy draining, her eyelids fluttering.

“Bryce.” I slap her cheek. “Bryce.”

Her eyes close altogether. The pool of blood beneath us grows larger, spreading all around us.

Horror claws at my throat. I hit her femoral artery.

I’ve never seen anyone bleed out that fast.

I suck in desperate breaths, my lungs straining for oxygen. As my heart thunders against my ribs, I crawl away from Bryce, leaving her dead in the middle of the room.