Page 46 of Silver Elite

I can’t stop myself.

I start to laugh.

Deep, gasping, shaking giggles. He blinks in shock, but my laughing fit is uncontrollable. All I can do is shudder beneath him as he straddles me with a blade to my throat. Each time I laugh, I feel a sting against my flesh. Soon it’s going to draw blood. That just makes me laugh harder.

“Who are you?” he repeats, his breath escaping in a hiss. “Who told you that story?”

“Can I…” I try to speak through the laughter. “Can I ask you something?”

He raises the knife. Just millimeters. He’s still wound tighter than a cobra. He can slice my throat at any second.

“Is your favorite animal still a wolf?”

He freezes. Staring at me, as if he can’t comprehend what I’m asking.

“Because mine isn’t a daisy anymore. My favorite flower, I mean.”

His breathing becomes ragged. The knife rises another half an inch.

“It was, at one point.” When I lived in the Blacklands, but not even Wolf knows where I came from. “Except then wild daisies started taking over the north pasture of the ranch, spreading like a weed, and the cows didn’t have enough grass because of those stupid daisies. So it stopped.” I giggle. “Being my favorite flower, that is.”

Sensing I’m no threat to him, Cross lifts the knife. It hangs loose from his fingers now. I can see his brain working, trying to make sense of this.

When he speaks, it’s one hoarse word.

“How?”

“I don’t know.” I sit up and lean against the headboard. “I only figured it out the other night.”

He gives me a questioning look.

“Your mother’s room. Her painting. The white hull, the blue stripe, the red flag.” I start to laugh again. “All this time I thought you lived by the ocean. I didn’t realize you were describing a painting.”

Cross studies my face as if he’s never seen me before in his life.

“Daisy?” he finally says. His voice shakes slightly.

“Wolf.” A smile spreads across my lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

We eye each other.

I blink and I’m in his arms. They’re wrapped tightly around me, as if he’s trying to melt me into his body.

“I don’t know how the fuck this is happening. Is this actually happening?”

He’s in my head now. Wolf. He sounds different, though, because I know what Cross sounds like.

“Your voice is not as raspy as you think it is.”

He grins at me. “Yours is higher than you think.”

“I do not have a high voice,” I say out loud, trying to hear it for myself. It sounds deeper to my ears.

“Yes, you do.” He shakes his head in amazement. “How is this possible?”

I know exactly what he’s feeling. It’s strange and exciting. Terrifying, too. I’ve known him since I was six years old, yet this is the first time we’re meeting.

And he’s Cross Redden.

He’s Cross Redden.

The implications race through my head. For a moment, I worry he might turn me in, until I remember that turning me in means turning himself in.

“You’re Modified,” I accuse.

His expression pains.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No.”

“How? How were you able to keep it a secret?”

Cross moves to sit beside me, long legs stretched out in front of him. “I don’t know. I guess even at the age of eight, when I was suddenly inside someone else’s head, I wisely knew never to reveal it to anyone.”

“Nobody in your family knows?”

“No, you’re the only one.”

“What gifts do you have?” I ask curiously.

“Only telepathy, and I don’t think I’m very strong. I’ve only ever done it with you. I have no idea how I managed to connect with your mind all those years ago, but I’m glad I did. It made me feel less alone.”

“My uncle told me it’s common for children to form spontaneous links when they’re first manifesting their abilities. They don’t know how to use anything properly yet. It’s almost like their minds freaking out.”

Cross is equally curious. “What do you have?”

“Just telepathy.”

Guilt embeds into my stomach. He doesn’t need to know that I’m also a mind reader and projector. That I can incite. Or rather, that I can sometimes incite at random and inappropriate times, with no rhyme or reason to how I’ve done it.

But Cross isn’t stupid. “Julian Ash’s execution,” he spits out.

I’m quick to deny it. “It wasn’t me.”

For the first time in my life, I’m actively lying to my closest friend. It rips a hole in my heart. I never thought I would lie to Wolf. Only by omission. But I’m unsure about our level of trust now. Because Wolf isn’t Wolf anymore. He’s Cross Redden.

He eyes me skeptically.

“It was Jim,” I tell him.

“Ash? Jayde didn’t get any indication he was an inciter when she was reading his mind.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you because it was him. I don’t think he had much control over it. I only saw it happen one other time over the years, and even then, it wasn’t successful. He said inciting required a lot of control, and it wasn’t something he wanted to practice. He didn’t like interfering with people’s free will.” I swallow. “But he interfered at the execution. I guess when your life is in danger, you’ll go to any lengths to save yourself.”

“So. You did know your uncle was Aberrant.”

“Obviously.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “I knew you were lying to me. But for a while there, you even had me convinced.”

His breath suddenly hitches.

I frown. “What is it?”

“Your shield held up against Lieutenant Colonel Valence. Wren. Do you realize how extraordinary that is?”

“Maybe she’s not as good as she claims to be.”

“No, she’s better. I’ve seen her read the mind of someone a thousand yards away. As long as she has them in her eyesight, she draws their energy to her.”

I shiver. It’s a menacing, foreboding thought. For once, I’m grateful I have my own internal alarm system that allows me to feel it when someone tries to penetrate my mind.

Silence drifts between us. We continue to study each other. He reaches over, touches my face. He traces every line and curve as if he’s trying to memorize it with his touch.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he says.

“ I can’t believe it’s you. ”

He pulls me into his lap, and I rest my head against his chest. There’s something so comforting about this. It’s rare that I feel safe. Protected. But I do in this moment. With Cross holding me. Wolf holding me.

Emotion wells up in my throat. There are so many things I want to say, to ask, but he speaks before I can.

“Are you working for the Uprising?”

My head snaps up.

“Shit,” he says, noting my expression. “You are.”

“Yes, but it’s sort of a recent development. I only started after Jim died.”

He’s skeptical again.

“You need to stop that,” I chide.

“Stop what?”

“Doubting what I say now. When I was Daisy, did you ever doubt me?”

“Never.”

“Then don’t start now.” I smother the rush of guilt that tries to surface. I lied to him about the incitement, I know that. But that’s a secret I’ll take to the grave.

“What have you done for them?” Cross asks before biting out an expletive. “The weapons cache. You gave them the grids?”

I offer a rueful nod.

I want to ask him what side he’s on, if he believes in his father’s vision for the Continent. I want to ask him how he can stomach it when he sentences Mods to death. When he sends us to labor camps. I want to know how he feels about people like us, especially since his mother…

I can’t stop my next words from popping out.

“She’s Modified. Your mother. You know that, right?”

He rubs the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’d rather be talking about anything but this.

“The General might be in denial about it, but I think deep down you know what she is. Have you ever met a Mod whose mind has been fragmented?”

His head dips in a nod.

“Do you not see the similarities?”

“Her symptoms are close enough to schizophrenia—”

“That’s not schizophrenia, Cross. Her mind is fragmented—because she’s Modified. And I think you damn well know that. How does the General not see it?”

“Her veins don’t ripple.”

“I don’t have to tell you that means nothing. Some Mods, a rare few of us, don’t have the silver veins.” I switch to telepathy to prove my point. “Like me.” My gaze drops to his arms. “And apparently like you.”

He curses under his breath.

“You suspected she was Modified despite her veins, because yours don’t do it, either.”

Tension hardens his jaw. “Wren. You can’t tell them.”

“What?”

He switches to telepathy. “You can’t tell the Uprising I’m Modified. If they use that information against me, if it gets back to my father, my brothers…They’ll kill me.”

My heart twists in my chest. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you speak to them? Maybe you can join the network, too.”

The idea fills me with hope, but he’s quick to shoot it down. Incredulous.

“I’m not working for the Uprising.”

“But you’ll work for the Command? You’ll help your father kill all the people who are like you?” Anger rises inside me.

“Have you ever seen me kill a Mod?” he challenges.

I falter. Thinking. The General’s words buzz through my mind. Accusing Cross of overcrowding the labor camps with the Aberrant. His brother killed Betima without hesitation. But Cross…He spares their lives.

“I do more good here than I would anywhere else,” he says out loud. Groaning, he rakes both hands through his hair. “This is…a lot. It isn’t something we can talk through in one evening, Wren.” He pauses. “Daisy.” His features soften as he touches my face again. “This is unbelievable.”

Yes, it is. I think back to our talk about free will and destiny, and for the first time in my entire life, I wonder if maybe some events are inexorable. Predestined.

Maybe I was always supposed to end up here with him.

His lips are nearing mine when the alert sounds. Cursing, he grabs his comm from the night table and checks the screen.

“Shit. We have to go. Now.”

“Why? What happened?”

“An Uprising fighter jet just crashed near one of our weapons depots.”