Page 40 of Silver Elite

With telepathy, sometimes it’s hard to interpret someone’s exact emotions. Yes, you can pick up on tone depending on how hard you’re concentrating, but you might lose nuance. What you hear doesn’t always translate into what they’re feeling.

There’s nothing lost in translation right now.

Terror and despair.

That’s what Tana is feeling.

It’s impossible to concentrate on Griff, so I lean back in my chair, rubbing my temples as if I’m warding off a headache.

“What’s going on?” I ask Tana. “Are you okay?”

“I need you. Where are you? I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m in Hamlett.”

“You are?” Her relief hits me like a gust of wind. “Please come. I’m at the inn. You need to come as fast as you can.”

I tamp down the rising panic. I don’t know how I’m going to make that happen.

“Why don’t I bring the captain in here and he can verify the deal?” I say to Griff, scraping my chair back. “And I’ll grab us some coffee. I need the caffeine fix. My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Griff is not a stupid man. He knows me well, and he understands what my pointed look means.

“You can trust Captain Redden. I promise you, the deal is real.”

At least I hope it’s real. Cross said he would spare their lives, and I have to believe he’ll keep his word.

Griff nods. When our gazes lock, I hear his unspoken plea. He knows I’m going to Tana.

I step into the hall to find Cross frowning at me. “Why did you walk out? What the hell was that?”

“He needs to hear you confirm the deal,” I lie. “I could see it on his face that he needed to hear it from an authority figure. He still views me as a kid. Probably thinks I don’t have the power to grant deals.”

It’s a believable excuse, and Cross buys it.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says. “And those coffees sound pretty fucking good. Get me one, too.”

“Wren! Please. Help.”

“I’m trying. Tell me what happened.”

“I need you. Room 4.”

“I need some air first,” I blurt out.

Cross’s frown deepens.

“Only for a minute. I just…It was hard seeing him in there like that. I need a minute to regroup before I continue.”

“Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be right back,” I assure him.

I keep a measured stride until I round the corner. Then I bolt forward like my horse whenever she hears thunder, tearing for the exit.

Outside, the controller station is deserted. From here, it’s about a mile to the town square and the inn. I could try to run, but I worry I’ll get caught before I get there.

I can’t risk taking any of the Command trucks, so I scan the area until I spot a dusty black motorcycle parked against a wall. The lock on the thumb pad isn’t engaged.

With only the briefest of hesitations, I throw one leg over the bike.

I’ll return it. I’m not stealing it. I just need to get to Tana.

“Tana, talk to me,” I say as I speed away.

She doesn’t answer, but our link remains open. I know she can hearme.

“I’m on my way.”

“Please hurry.” Her voice is a whisper. The anguish in it spreads through my mind like a pebble skimming the water, creating ripples.

I still have my earpiece in, but the feed stays silent. No Xavier or Hadley or Cross barking in my ear, ordering me to get my ass back to the compound. They haven’t noticed I’m gone yet.

Within minutes, I’m at the inn, ditching the motorcycle in the square. There are no guards stationed outside. I walk inside and find the front desk empty. The place is too quiet, and that chills my blood.

I hurry up to the second floor. Room 4 is at the end of the long corridor. At the top of the staircase, I slow my pace, reverting to my training. I have no idea what I’m going to find in that room, and I don’t want to burst in gun blazing.

Creeping along the carpeted hallway, I let Tana know I’m here.

“Almost at your door. Let me in.”

I hear a rustling of sound. The knob begins to turn, the door opening a crack.

Big, terrified brown eyes meet my gaze. A second later, Tana releases a choked sob and pulls me into the room, locking the door behind us.

The sight that greets me freezes me in place.

There, sprawled on the bed in a pool of crimson, lies Anson.

Dead.

Completely, thoroughly dead. Lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble backward. “Oh my God. Tana…What happened?”

Her hands are shaking uncontrollably as she hugs herself, rubbing her upper arms. “I…I didn’t mean to…He…he attacked me.”

I take a hesitant step forward, my gaze sliding between Tana and the body on the bed. His long hair is wet. Soaked in blood. The bullet hole isn’t quite between his eyes. It’s closer to his left one, toward his forehead. There are no splatters on the headboard, only the sheets, and the direction of the blood castoff is toward the foot of the bed, which tells me he was probably on top of her, facing the headboard. Looks like Tana rolled him over when she crawled out from under him.

His uniform pants are undone.

Her dress is torn.

Vomit bubbles in my throat, and my heart shatters into a million pieces as I grasp the gravity of the situation.

“I killed him.” She’s clearly in shock. She stares at me, unblinking, her cheeks stained with tears.

“Hey. Tana. Listen to me. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

I pull her into a tight embrace, and the moment my arms wrap around her, she starts to shudder. Uncontrollably. Her breaths escape in unsteady wheezes.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s going to be okay.” The assurance feels hollow against the weight of the truth.

“I waited until he was…until he was…distracted. It was the only time he let down his guard…”

She’s mumbling. Panting. Trembling in my arms, and the rage cracks through me like a whip.

I can scarcely breathe. I’m so angry. He put his hands on her. He…

I twist away from the sight of Anson. I knew he was dangerous from the moment our eyes locked on orientation day, and I’m glad he’s dead. I just wish someone had killed him before he hurt my best friend.

“I grabbed his gun.” Her tears soak into the front of my shirt. “I shot him in the face.”

I stroke my hand through her dark hair. “It’s okay. We’re going to handle this.”

How? my brain is screaming.

How the hell are we going to “handle” this? She killed a Silver Block soldier.

Pulling back, I cup her cheeks and wipe her tears with my thumbs. “Tana. I need you to listen to me right now, keen?”

She’s not blinking again. She looks dazed.

“You didn’t kill him.”

“What?” Confusion etches into her face.

“You didn’t kill him. I killed him. I walked in and found him on top of you. And I killed him. Okay?”

Her shiver fits return. “Wren, no. You’ll get sent to the Tribunal.”

“Not if I claim I was defending myself.” I go to the closet, searching for something she can wear. I find a man’s cardigan sweater and hand it to her. “Here. Put this on. You’re shaking.”

I don’t know how I’m managing to keep my composure.

She dropped the gun on the floor after she shot Anson, and I bend down to pick it up. I walk around the bed toward Anson’s right side. He was right-handed, I remember. I wrap his fingers around the weapon and curl his finger over the trigger. He died recently, so his fingers aren’t stiff yet. I’m easily able to maneuver them.

I straighten up and unholster my own weapon. I don’t have a silencer on it, and I pray that nobody hears what I’m about to do. If they do, we’ll have to act even faster.

“Move over here.” With a gentle touch, I nudge Tana toward the armchair in the corner. “Stay there for a second.”

She gives a fearful look as she watches me raise my gun.

“What are you doing?”

“Setting the scene,” I say, then fire one shot at the door.

The story unfolds in my head.

I left the station to check on Tana. I couldn’t bear the idea of her being detained.

I walked into the room and found Anson assaulting his prisoner.

When he saw me, he fired. Thankfully, he missed and the bullet struck the door.

I fired back. Kill shot. I take self-defense very seriously.

Anyone who looks too hard at this scene will note that the blood spatter won’t match my story, but the only good thing about the General’s system of justice is that no one will dig too deeply into it. Suspected criminals aren’t given the benefit of the doubt, and there’s no time or resources for lengthy, drawn-out investigations.

All I need is for Cross to take my word for what happened.

As if on cue, his furious voice suddenly rumbles in my earpiece.

“Where the hell are you, Dove?”

I glance over at Tana. “Are you going to be able to follow my lead?”

Despite her tears and the wild shuddering of her body, she responds with a nod.

“Good.” I tap my earpiece. “I’m at the inn. There was an incident.”

“What incident?” Cross demands.

“I killed Anson.”

—

Cross doesn’t buy it.

I can tell he doesn’t, as he surveys the scene. His blue eyes slide back and forth from me to Tana. Skeptical. Shrewd. But those eyes soften when he notices the state of her dress. Sighing, he turns toward the bed, assessing the blood on the sheets. The hole in Anson’s head.

Xavier stalks in a moment later and curses loud enough to startle Tana, who’s in the armchair hugging her chest.

“What the hell, Darlington?” Xavier demands.

“He shot at me,” I reply, my voice cold. “I came to check on my friend and heard her screaming. I threw open the door, found Anson on her, and ordered him to stop. He twisted around and fired at me.”

To drive that home, I point to the bullet embedded in the door behind us.

“I fired back,” I finish.

Silence falls.

The two guys exchange a look. They focus on Anson’s body, then Tana shivering in the chair.

I wrap a protective arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” My gaze seeks out Cross. “He attacked her. It was self-defense.” I realize how that sounds and add, “I was defending myself after he fired at me.”

He rubs his forehead. “Fucking hell.”

“Captain?” Xavier’s tone is wary.

Finally, Cross activates his earpiece. “Hadley, we need a sanitation squad at the inn.”

I hear Hadley’s response over the feed. “Copy that.”

“Where’s my father?” Tana asks. She’s starting to look less dazed. More present.

“He’s being transported as we speak,” Cross says. He glances at me. “He gave up the location of the tunnel.”

Fear fills Tana’s eyes. “Transported where?”

“He’s being taken to the mine in Ward D. He was sentenced to labor.”

A strangled noise leaves her lips, and I give her shoulder a soft squeeze.

“You’ll be going to X to serve your sentence,” Cross tells her.

Her gaze flies to mine. “What is he talking about?”

“I’m so sorry,” is all I can say, but with her cardigan on and her arms concealed, I’m able to express more than an apology. “It was the only way to save you from the firing squad. You guys were being charged with treason. I’ll contact the Uprising as soon as I can and try to get you out.”

She gapes at me. “I’m not going to a labor camp.”

Cross shuts down her protests. “You have no choice.”

Her focus remains on me. “Wren. You can’t let them do this.”

“You can’t fucking let them take me away!”

“I don’t have a choice, either. I fought to get you this deal.”

“This is bigger than both of us, Tan. You know it is. I’ll find a way to get you out. I promise.”

“You…” Her breathing quickens as she stares at me in horror. Sheer betrayal.

For a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to reveal what I am. That we’re communicating telepathically.

Then her gaze shifts to Anson’s body and she jerks as if she’s received an electric shock. It’s as if she suddenly remembers what happened, what he did to her, and the last shards of my heart crack off when I see all the light drain from her eyes. She’s broken. Ravaged.

It’s an expression I can’t erase from my mind, staying with me long after Xavier escorts her to the door.

—

It’s late when we return to base. I don’t speak to anyone. I’ve tried to link with Tana a hundred times, but she’s not letting me in. Either she doesn’t want to speak to me, or she can’t. I’m leaning toward the former.

I allowed them to take my best friend to a labor camp. I stood there and watched. Hell, I facilitated the deal.

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I stare at my reflection and say, “Who the fuck are you?”

The Wren from a couple of months ago would have fought to the death to save her friend.

But the entire time Tana had been pleading with me, I kept thinking about my parents and how much they sacrificed to help the Uprising. I worked my ass off to make it to Elite, and fighting for Tana would have meant destroying the solid cover I’d built, the trust I’d earned.

If anyone even trusts me after tonight. Covering up Anson’s death was beyond reckless.

I stuck my neck out as far as I was able to for Griff and Tana. How will it serve the network if I’m at a labor camp, shoveling salt or coal alongside them? I can do more good here, undercover in Silver Elite.

And so I continue to stare in the mirror. Into the yellow-gold eyes and bronzed skin I’m told I inherited from my mother. The brown hair and cheekbones I got from my father. The longer I look, the more of a stranger the woman in the mirror becomes.

This woman, who convinced Griff to take a deal rather than fight, who let Tana be led away, who killed Bryce Granger.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Fighting back tears, I get in the shower and blast the temperature as hot as it will go. Until my skin is red and scorching. I imagine my identity being burned off, along with the shame of what I’ve done.

“Dove? What are you doing?”

Cross appears as a hazy silhouette in the curtain of steam. When he comes into focus, I make out his concerned expression.

I don’t know how he got into my quarters. I don’t question it. He’s a better soldier than I’ll ever be. As he peers at me through the foggy glass door, his features soften. Then he peels off his shirt and undoes his pants. Naked, he steps into the stall and comes up behind me. I don’t turn to face him. I don’t want to see his eyes. He folds his strong arms around me, forearms over my breasts, muscular chest pressed against my spine. I’m not sure how long we remain there, surrounded by steam and silence. He holds me, and I let him.

Until I remember who’s bringing me comfort.

I turn off the water, then shove past him to get out of the shower. As I fumble for a towel, he watches me with an array of emotions. Worry remains one of them. Suspicion is more prevalent.

“You’re going to have to stop lying to me one of these days.”

“I didn’t lie about anything. He hurt her.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.

Cross steps onto the bath mat. With tenderness I haven’t seen from him before, he pushes wet hair off my forehead, tucking it behind my ears. His thumb strokes my bottom lip.

“I know. I saw. But I also know that if I run ballistics on the bullet in Anson’s head, it won’t have come from your weapon. And if I test the bullet from the door, it won’t be from his.”

I raise a brow. “Do you really want to go through all that trouble? There’s one less sadistic creep on the Continent, and my best friend gets to spend the rest of her life in a salt mine. What other resolution do you want?”

A muscle tics in his jaw.

“Do you want to keep talking about it? Dissecting it? Why are you here, Cross?”

“I came to make sure you’re all right.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m all right. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone now.”

His cheeks hollow as he mutters, “Fine.”

After he leaves, I curl up on my bed, tucking my knees to my chest. It occurs to me, as I lie there numb and exhausted, that there’s nobody left.

Jim. Tana. Griff. Even Betima, the only person on this base I could have conceivably revealed myself to, is gone.

I am all out of allies.

I am all alone.