Page 41 of Silver Elite

I’ve barely heard from Tana in two months. It breaks my heart. I want to know how she’s doing. I want to tell her I love her. I can’t even imagine how she’s processing what Anson did to her. Alone. With nobody to talk to about it.

I’ve checked in. She links every now and then, just to tell me she’s okay, but I sense she’s not.

As Elite, I have clearance now, and I’ve checked in with the guards at the salt camp. I can access the camp’s daily logs. I can see when Tana scans into the mine, and when she scans out. They work twelve-hour days out there. I’ve seen photos of the women’s quarters. They look comfortable. Everyone gets leisure time. The food seems decent.

But a gilded cage is still a cage.

And I put her there.

She should never forgive me.

“We need those coordinates, Wren.”

Adrienne’s voice is in my head. After Tana and Griff were detained, she usurped Declan as my silent contact. I suspect they don’t trust me. They shouldn’t. I’m the one who warned Tana that Silver Block was running ops in Hamlett. I’m the reason they tried to escape, and the reason they got caught.

All I can do now is focus on fulfilling my role here. Because if I don’t get the Uprising the information they require, if I don’t sabotage and sneak around and do whatever the hell they ask me to, then this was all for nothing.

I have to make it worth it.

But I miss my best friend. I miss Jim. Even Wolf is out of touch. It’s not unusual—sometimes months elapse before we speak. Still, his silence is equally oppressive, only compounding the demoralizing sense that I’m completely alone.

Except I’m not alone.

I have Kaine. Lyddie.

Cross.

Yes, I definitely have Cross. Almost every night. He’s an addiction I can’t conquer, and these days, I don’t want to conquer it. When I’m in bed with Cross, it’s the only time I’m able to shut off my brain and just…feel.

I don’t have to think about how I’m surrounded by Primes all day, every day.

I don’t have to worry about how I’m going to maintain my cover.

I don’t have to do anything but lose myself in sensation. And the fact that Cross has wisely learned not to make things more serious than they are is just a bonus. He doesn’t try to offer me comfort anymore. He knows I won’t accept it if he does.

Today I’ve been tasked with securing the coordinates for a black cache in the west. The infamous Silver Block black caches that my fake captors tried to real-beat out of me during the Program. I know those captors now. Mr. Muscles is Theo, who’s serious and soft-spoken when he’s not slapping people around. The bearded one is Ezra, a lieutenant who tells the most groan-inducing jokes.

One of the perks of being part of an elite unit is that we don’t follow a set schedule. No sentry post or regular assignment where I must wake at a certain time, perform my duties, and return to my quarters.

I can sleep when I want. Go to the mess hall when I want.

Stroll into the war room when I want.

It’s not locked. It never is. It’s not as if they expect any of us to be actively plotting against each other.

The dim glow of the holoscreens illuminates the otherwise darkened room, casting ghostly shadows across the large table. Doing this in the dark would pretty much be advertising my clandestine motives, so I switch on the overhead lights, then approach one of the holos.

I can’t be too obvious about it. Can’t actively type in specific coordinates, or the search will be logged. What I can do is pull up a map of all active black caches and project it to Adrienne using my mind.

“Incoming,” I tell her.

I focus on the caches for less than five seconds before she says, “Got it.”

“You don’t need more time?”

“Photographic memory. I can recite them back to you if it makes you feel better.”

I ignore the condescending tone. “No need. Anything else?”

“No. We’ll be in touch.”

She cuts the link, and I flip to a different map. This time, I input a search command. An informant told us yesterday that she thinks Jasper Reed moves his drugs through the coast. I zoom in, scan the area, and click a random site. There. If anyone wants to know why this map was activated, that’s the reason.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

I stiffen when Travis Redden enters the war room.

The resemblance really is remarkable. And unnerving. I know what it’s like to have his brother’s lips on mine, and now I’m staring at lips that are eerily similar.

His demeanor is harder, though. Not that Cross is soft; he’s equally inflexible. But I pick up on a hint of cruelty in Travis. Same way I think Cross can kill without batting an eye, I think this man can, too—only Travis would enjoy it.

“Darlington, right?”

“Yes. Good evening, Colonel. If you’re looking for the captain, I don’t know where—”

“He’s meeting me here,” Travis interjects.

“Oh. All right.” I close the map and move away from the holoscreen. “Sorry, I just needed to grab some grids. I have suspicions about—” I stop. “Right. I just realized I don’t know what kind of clearance you have.”

That makes him laugh. “The highest kind. But it’s fine. I don’t need the details of what you’re working on.” He leans his hip against the edge of the desk. “How are you enjoying your new unit?”

“It’s great.”

His gaze begins a slow perusal that makes me uncomfortable.

I force a smile. “Anyway, I should go.”

Travis continues his visual exploration, focusing on the hair I wore loose today. “You’re not his usual type.”

“Whose?”

“My brother’s.”

Roe said the same thing. Although I suppose I understand where both are coming from, when Ivy is who Cross dated before. But Ivy is not as fragile as they clearly believe. She’s in Silver Block, after all. She persevered through the Program for a second time and excelled in it.

“I don’t know why you would bring that up,” I lie. “I’m not with your brother.”

Unless…did Cross say something to him?

Or maybe Ivy did? I swear to hell, if she reported seeing Cross in my quarters and this jeopardizes my place in Elite…

I’ll be calling her out on the next pit night, that’s for hellfucking sure.

“Captain Redden is my commanding officer,” I add. “He doesn’t fraternize with subordinates.”

Travis chuckles again. “Right, my mistake,” he says smoothly.

“Have a good night, Colonel.”

I step into the hall at the same time Cross rounds the corner.

The way his eyes smolder at the sight of me, you’d think I was naked rather than in full uniform.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he accuses.

“You’ve been off base all day,” I remind him.

“You’re right. It’s my fault.” He inches me toward the wall, his voice lowering to a wicked pitch. “I’ve been a bad boy.”

The moment his body touches mine, my brain completely melts and I forget my own name. I forget everything except for how much I want him. It happens all the time. It catches me off guard during the day. I’ll be talking to Kaine, or reading a dossier on my source, and suddenly I’m thinking about Cross’s intense gaze, his skillful touch. It’s maddening, this relentless pull that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

As much as I try to deny it, I can’t ignore the truth any longer. I am hopelessly, helplessly infatuated with Cross Redden.

“Wait while I grab something and then we’ll go to your quarters?” he says, his breath warm against my skin.

I nod toward the war room. “Your brother’s waiting for you in there.”

“Shit. Right. We’re supposed to discuss security for the Silver Jubilee. Okay. I’ll come by in an hour or so.” He brings his mouth close to my ear. “Be waiting for me in bed.”

I know I should say no. But we both know I’ll be waiting.

—

I have breakfast with Lyddie in the mess hall the following week. It’s good to see her, and I love watching her grow into her own. This morning, her hair is not in a braid but streaming around her shoulders. She’s practically glowing as she tells me about the colonel she’s working under in Intelligence. She loves her new assignment.

“I miss you so much,” she says.

“I miss you, too,” I answer, and I actually mean it.

We manage to catch a meal here and there on the base, but the Elite schedule is so inconsistent. I’ll be assigned to a three-day op out of nowhere, or randomly spend an entire day undercover in the Point with Kaine, so it’s difficult to make time for her sometimes.

Lyddie studies me over her coffee cup. “Kaine thinks you’re seeing someone.”

I tense slightly. “Why does he think that?”

“He says you look like you’re getting laid.” She looks like she’s trying not to grin.

“Tell him to mind his business.”

“So it’s not true?” she pushes.

“Nope. My sex life is painfully nonexistent. How about you?”

Lyddie’s cheeks turn pink. “Same.”

Our meal is interrupted by a summons from Xavier. It comes via my source, since we only wear our earpieces out in the field.

War Room. Now.

“Shit. I have to go.” I chug the rest of my coffee before getting to my feet.

“Everything okay?” she frets.

“Just a briefing.”

“I’ll comm you later. We need to plan our shopping trip for Jubilee dresses.”

The last thing I’m thinking about is the General’s ridiculous Silver Jubilee. Who wants to celebrate twenty-five years of that man’s iron fist up our asses?

Everyone here.

Right.

Sometimes I forget that I’m surrounded by Primes who actually like and respect General Redden.

I reach the war room at the same time as Kaine. “How’s Lyds?” he asks.

“Nosy.” I give him a pointed look. “She says the two of you discuss my sex life.”

“Obviously.”

“Careful or I’ll start gossiping to everyone about your sex life.”

“You don’t have that kind of time on your hands, cowgirl.”

I’m not at all surprised to hear he hasn’t been celibate during our time here. In an alternate reality, he and I would be finishing what we started the night Betima died. Multiple times a day, no doubt.

But in this reality, I’ve been caught under Cross Redden’s spell. No matter how much I fight it, I can’t stay away from him.

I suspect Kaine knows our moment has passed. He still flirts with me, but lately he seems far more concerned with serving in Silver Elite.

And, apparently, sleeping his way through the base.

“Ooh,” I tease. “Anyone special?”

“They’re all special to me.” His lips twitch. “In the moment.”

When we enter the war room, the tension is palpable. Cross stands at the front, his expression grim. He waits for us to take our seats, then fills everyone in.

“We just received reports that the Uprising bombed one of our weapons caches.”

My pulse speeds up. Holy hellfuck, they did it. The network made use of the coordinates I gave them last week.

“The damage to the cache itself was minimal—the idiots missed.”

Xavier chuckles from his chair.

“But they took out half the nearby forest,” Cross says, projecting a live feed of the forest in question.

My jaw drops. It looks like the entire area was flattened into a pancake.

“Sugar bomb?” Ezra rubs his beard as he studies the screen.

“What the fuck is a sugar bomb?” Kaine asks with a grin.

Theo, whom I’ve discovered has a scientific mind, fields the question. “The enemy’s been testing out a new incendiary device.”

Cross flattens his lips. “Using tech they stole from us.”

Theo nods. “We call it a sugar bomb, but I think the scientists in the capital gave it some other, more sophisticated-sounding name. Can’t remember what. Anyway, our people developed a process to extract and refine natural sugars into a compound that releases immense amounts of stored energy upon detonation. When this shit is ignited, the reaction generates a blast wave comparable to the atomic bombs they used in the Last War. Not in scale, but intensity.”

“Is there radiation?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“The bomb didn’t hit our cache, though,” Tyler prompts, glancing at Cross.

“Correct.”

Ford gives a sardonic laugh. “Guess their hotshot pilot must be losing his touch.”

Kaine leans back in his chair. “I bet it was some rookie. From what I’ve heard, the famous one never misses.”

“He missed this morning,” Cross says with a shrug. “And it’s clear they’re escalating their efforts. Picking more high-level targets. We need to figure out how they found that cache.”

I hope nobody can see through my neutral expression. Beneath it, I’m fighting my excitement. The knowledge that I played a part in the bombing, that I’m the reason we’re all sitting in this war room right now, makes my heart beat a little bit faster.

There’s something incredibly thrilling about the notion that I helped create chaos.

—

Two days later, I run into Ellis outside the mess hall. The presence of a Mod on the Command base is never a good omen, but there’s something doubly unsettling about Ellis. I still remember the spooky sensation of my bones literally knitting back together because of this man.

No human should have that much power.

Not that my power is any less dangerous. The ability to incite is far more destructive. Ellis heals, making things better.

I break them.

He nods at me as we pass each other in the corridor. I force a polite smile, then keep walking.

I raise my coffee to my lips, savoring the rich flavor. Every time I grab a cup from the mess hall, I refuse to let a drop go to waste. The stuff here on the base uses real coffee beans from Tierra Fe, the one export I hope never runs out, which is a valid fear given how it’s no secret the trade treaty between the Continent and our southern neighbors has been on shaky ground for years.

At least it prevented a war, though. When those first Mods started coming into existence in the years after the Last War, Tierra Fe almost waged another one on us. They thought we were demons from hell, and a religious war nearly broke out among the remaining continents. It was the Continent’s ruler at the time who managed to thwart it. A Prime who assured Tierra Fe’s leadership that the Aberrant would be contained.

And contain them he did.

The thought of those early Aberrant asylums reminds me of what I saw in that Ward C hospital. A roomful of people with fragmented minds.

Sadness lodges in my throat. It’s devastating to me that they’re trapped there. And they have no idea, their minds too broken to grasp what’s happening to them. But perhaps that’s better. Maybe oblivion truly is the more blissful state of being. Those fragmented people have no idea they’re trapped, but people like Tana, like Morlee Hadley, who are working at a labor camp—they know they’re prisoners.

Thinking of Tana brings a stab of pain to my chest. Our telepathic conversations are few and far between these days. She won’t admit it, but she blames me for where she is.

An alert comes through on my source, drawing me from my dismal thoughts. I stop walking to pull it out of my pocket.

Report to Medical

Instantly, my hackles are raised. I’m in perfect health. Although I did hit my head while sparring with Kaine in the gym the other night. For fun. Truth is, Silver Elite is not as exciting as it’s been made out to be. It involves a lot of waiting around. A lot of surveillance. I’d kill for some action right now. I can’t even remember the last time I got to shoot my rifle.

Wariness lines my steps as I make my way to the Medical building. I reach it at the same time Kaine emerges from the opposite hallway.

He grins at me. “You were summoned, too?”

“Yep.”

Turns out we all were. All the Elite members who are currently on the base.

Kess walks in alone. She’s cut her hair since the last time I saw her. Given herself bangs. It’s a severe look but suits her perfectly. Since Anson’s death, she’s lost her biggest ally, and she’s been keeping to herself during briefings.

Ara Zebb and Noah Jones arrive together, nodding in greeting. Several soldiers I don’t know too well yet linger at the door. Theo is among them, his huge biceps flexing as he runs a hand over his buzzed scalp.

Cross enters with Xavier and Tyler. My heart rate kicks up a notch when he comes to stand right beside me. But then I notice Ellis walking in, and my pulse races for another reason.

“Let’s get started,” Cross says without preamble. “Theo, you’re up.”

“What is this?” I ask him.

“Mandatory wellness checks.”

Trying not to frown, I watch Theo stride toward one of the narrow hospital beds. He strips off his shirt but doesn’t stop there. The pants come off, too. In nothing but boxer shorts, he sits on the bed as Ellis approaches him.

Alarm ignites inside me. “Shouldn’t they be doing this in a private examination room or something?”

Cross shrugs. “Not necessary. Only takes a couple of minutes. It’s not like he’s performing surgery.”

I stand in the medical bay, my anxiety growing with each passing second as I watch Ellis attend to Theo. Everyone else keeps their distance, giving Theo his privacy, but I can’t help listening in on his “wellness check.”

Ellis runs his fingers over Theo’s left arm. He focuses on a jagged cut on the forearm.

“How did this happen?” I hear Ellis murmur.

“Nail ripped through the skin when we were hopping a fence in the Point.”

“This is infected. You didn’t put any regen ointment on it?”

Theo’s expression turns sheepish. “Nah, I did. But I kept getting it wet.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll patch you right up.”

I give Cross a sidelong look. “Isn’t this a waste of his skills?”

“No. We need all our soldiers in tip-top shape.”

“We already have regen balms and lasers to heal most things,” I point out.

“This is faster,” Xavier cracks.

He’s not wrong. Even I can’t hide my wonder as the nasty red gash on Theo’s arm literally disappears in front of our eyes. The skin changes. Swells. The puckered edges smooth out as Ellis runs his palm over them, a furrow of concentration in his brow. When he lifts his hand, it’s as if the cut was never there. Smooth, dark skin is all that’s left behind.

“I mean, that’s impressive,” Kaine remarks.

Kess is up next. I’d prefer nobody healed her ever, so I turn my gaze away from her session.

I’m intensely aware of Cross’s presence. He doesn’t say a word, but I feel his eyes on me. The heat.

“Stop,” I warn, using a soft voice only he can hear.

“Stop what?” he murmurs back. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking. And I always know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m always thinking about getting you into bed.”

“Exactly.”

The charged moment dissolves into another wave of anxiety when Kess is dismissed and Ellis says, “Who’s next?”

“Might as well get this shit over with,” Xavier says, peeling off his shirt on his way to the bed.

When he drops his pants, I don’t miss the way Tyler’s eyes flicker with approval. I can’t blame her for enjoying the view. Ford’s body is nice to look at.

“Are you having any pain here?” I hear Ellis inquire a few moments later. His hands are on Xavier’s abdomen. “Something feels off.”

Xavier winces. “Yeah. It’s been feeling tender lately. I think it’s still sore from last weekend’s pit night.”

“No. I suspect you have a kidney stone forming.”

“How the hell can you tell that without some sort of ultrasound?”

“I’ve done this enough times to know. Let’s take care of this, keen?” Ellis presses his palms against Ford’s tanned flesh, concentration once again creasing his face.

By the time my name is called, the knot of dread in my stomach is coiled around every inch of intestine.

“Is this really necessary?” I ask Cross in a last-ditch effort. “I’m not injured. Not even a scratch on me.”

“Sutler slammed your head against the floor last night.”

“Sorry about that,” Kaine calls out. He’s standing nearby with Ara and Jones now.

“My head is fine,” I insist.

“I’m not sending you into the field concussed, so just let him do his job, Darlington. Stop being so difficult all the time.”

Xavier snickers again.

Gritting my teeth, I join Ellis at the bed. I’ve gotten used to the complete lack of modesty on this base, so I don’t even hesitate before removing my shirt. My pants, on the other hand…

My fingers tremble as I unsnap the button, and a wave of self-consciousness washes over me when my thighs are revealed to the room. Not everyone has seen my burns.

“Your head, you say?” Ellis prompts when I sit down.

“I don’t have a concussion.”

That doesn’t stop him from cupping the back of my skull and conducting his own investigation. The warmth of his touch seeps into my head, and I didn’t even realize I had a headache until suddenly it’s gone.

Well, shit. I can see why the General keeps Mods like Ellis alive. We can be very useful assets to him, especially in the military.

With my head taken care of, Ellis proceeds to run his hands over my body.

I hear a low noise from Cross’s vicinity. Oh, he doesn’t like Ellis touching me? Too bad. He’s the one who facilitated this.

When the healer’s gaze reaches the ugly puckered scars marring my thigh, I shift in discomfort. I feel more exposed than ever under his probing eyes.

“This is very old burn tissue,” he remarks.

I nod. “From childhood.”

He doesn’t touch the scars. Instead, he tips his head and says, “I can get rid of all this scarring right now if you’d like.”