Page 48 of Silver Elite

The sun has set by the time I find the courage to go to his quarters, and a part of me is surprised that he lets me in. Without a word, he holds the door open. I walk inside and he closes it behind me.

I’m in civilian clothes. I shrug out of my jacket, leaving me in jeans and a tank top. His gaze flicks toward me before he sinks into the chair by the sofa.

Anxiety mingles with frustration and squeezes my throat. This is unbearable. It hurts knowing that Wolf—Cross—is mad at me. I’m still struggling to shift the way I think about him. But I’m going to have to evolve because he’s not quite Wolf anymore. Wolf is my childhood friend. Wolf is a boy. Cross is a man.

“My uncle didn’t find me on the side of the road.”

Cross swings his gaze back to me.

“He smuggled me out of the city when I was five years old. My parents were Uprising operatives. Working to take the system down from within. My father died in the field. My mother was executed for concealment.”

I sit on the sofa and offer a contrite look.

“Whenever I spoke to Wolf about my ‘father,’ I was referring to Jim. The truth is, I don’t remember my parents. I never knew them. I don’t remember anything, really, before Jim took me to the Blacklands.”

His mouth falls open.

“Yeah,” I confirm in a dry voice. “We lived in the darkness for almost three years. Well, it wasn’t always dark. We found a sun pocket in a grassy clearing that got about five hours of light a day. My parents asked him to protect me, so that’s what he did. And when he deemed it safe, we returned to the wards and set ourselves up in Z. We really have been ranching these past twelve years. I knew he was Modified.” I don’t say Aberrant because Jim was not an aberration. He was not defective. “But he didn’t work for the Uprising. Neither did I, not until after his execution. They recruited me not long after I joined the Program. Or rather, after you forced me into it.”

Amusement tugs on the corners of his mouth.

“I lied to you when I said I only have one ability.”

His smile fades.

I get to my feet and start to undo my jeans.

“What are you doing?”

“I went to see Ellis earlier.” I bite my lip in humor, hesitating only briefly before asking, “Did you know he was working for your enemy?”

Cross hisses through his teeth. “Fuck’s sake.”

“I’m sorry. I confirmed it with my contact before I reached out to him. He’s been undercover here for years.”

I tug my zipper down.

“I asked him to heal my scars. I wasn’t sure if it would still be there. But…”

Beneath the denim I wear a pair of white underwear. Palms damp from nerves, I remove my jeans, leaving them in a pool on the floor.

Cross sucks in a breath when he sees my bare thighs.

The burns are gone.

The bloodmark is still there.

“I don’t have one ability. I have four.”

“Four.” He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “All right. Well. I know what one of them is. What are the other three?”

“I can read your mind.” I purse my lips. “Actually, no, I can’t read your mind—your shield is phenomenal. Maybe lower it for a second?”

His gaze turns distrustful.

“Please. I won’t abuse the privilege.”

When he nods, I peer past him toward the balcony, focusing on the view beyond the glass door. I push the image into his mind.

He sighs.

I give a sheepish shrug. “I’m a projector.”

“Clearly.”

“And…” I gulp. “I can incite.”

“Fuck, Wren.”

“I know. If it makes you feel better, I can’t control that power at all.”

“How would that make me feel better?” he balks, then draws a calming breath. “So that was you, then, at the execution?”

“I’m sorry I lied to you. I wasn’t sure if I could fully trust you.” I nibble the inside of my cheek. “But yes, it was me. I didn’t do it on purpose if you can believe that. It’s sort of like how you and I accidentally linked as kids. You opened a path and blindly reached out without even realizing what you were doing. That’s what occurred at the execution. I was watching in horror as the squad lined up in front of Jim. I was pleading with them in my mind to put their guns down. And then…it just happened.”

“Just happened,” he echoes in disbelief.

“That wasn’t the first time, either. It’s happened here and there over the years. Usually when I’ve been angry or panicky about something. I was inciting the night I told you about, when my father—Jim—drove us off the road. I told you I was driving. I wasn’t. I accidentally incited him to turn the truck around and we almost died.”

“Shit.”

“Jim tried to train me in it, but it wasn’t his strongest suit. And there are so few known inciters on the Continent that I can’t even, you know, call someone for advice.” A laugh slips out. “I don’t know how to use it.” The laughter fades. “I wouldn’t use it even if I did.”

He slants his head. “Really.”

“Really. Remember when we talked about free will? Well, it’s sort of an important concept for me. I like the idea that I’m making my own decisions. That my actions are my own. There are very few people I hate enough to want to take that away from them.”

Cross’s features soften.

“I lied to you about some things as Daisy, but always by omission. But you did the same.” I give him a pointed look, and he nods. “As me, as Wren, I’ve lied about so much since I got here. I’ve hid from you.”

I touch my thigh, directing his gaze to the red circle imprinted there. To the reason I didn’t want Ellis to heal me.

“Jim burned this off me when I was a child. It appeared when I was seven. He didn’t want anyone to know what I was, including the Uprising.”

That makes him frown. “He kept it from them?”

“Yes. He knew I would be used as a pawn. My mom knew, too. That’s why she sent me away. She was the first person I incited, when I was five. She recognized the danger in it, especially in the hands of a child, so she begged Jim to take me far away. Other than him, you’re the only one I’ve ever told.”

“Your friend didn’t know?”

“Only you. And now Ellis, I suppose.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then his jaw clenches tight, and I’m startled by the flash of ire that ignites his eyes.

“Damn it, Dove. How could you do such a stupid fucking thing?”

My mouth falls open. “You’re angry at me for telling you the truth?”

“I’m angry at you for exposing yourself. For removing the only godfucking layer of protection you had between you and your enemies.”

I blink.

He’s right.

My chest rises as I draw a shaky breath. “I know it was reckless.”

“You think?”

“But it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Why would you ever put yourself at risk like that?”

“I…I wanted to show you that you can trust me. I wanted to show you…me.” The lump of emotion in my throat is liable to choke me. “I wanted you to see what I am.”

“I see exactly what you are, Daisy. I always have.”

I barely have time to bask in that before he’s kissing me. We don’t even make it to the bedroom. Our clothes are ripped away. We start off on the couch but it’s too small for us, and with a hiss of frustration Cross pulls me onto the floor, falling back on his elbows, eyes gleaming as I settle astride him.

I pull him free, giving a slow, thorough stroke that makes him curse. Then I sink down on him, and we both groan.

“Best feeling in the world,” he mumbles.

Time seems to stand still, my surroundings fading away until there’s only the two of us. It’s always been that way. The two of us.

He reaches up to cup my breasts. Squeezing. Toying with my nipples. I shiver. Then shiver harder when those strong hands travel downward. He runs his fingers over my newly healed thigh, and it feels weird to…well, feel. There’d been no sensation there for so long that it’s like discovering a new erogenous zone. The unfamiliar sensations are delicious.

“I didn’t know about the ambush.”

It’s probably the worst time to say it, but I can’t stop the words from popping out of my mouth.

“I believe you,” Cross says, then thrusts upward and fills me so deep I gasp.

His eyes grow hazy with pleasure as he watches me ride his cock. My own pleasure rises at the sight of his pulse hammering in the base of his throat, at the feel of his hands roaming my body. His lips on my nipple when I curl over him, losing control of the rhythm.

Release finds us within seconds of each other. I moan against his neck, and he groans against mine, giving one last thrust while I feel him throbbing inside me. We’re both breathing hard when I roll off him. We’re too lazy and sated to move. We lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“I love you,” he says.

I press my lips together to suppress the smile that’s tickling my lips.

“I’ve loved you since I was eight years old. And I’m still adjusting to all of this. Trying to merge the two of you. Daisy. Wren.” Regret thickens his voice. “I’m sorry I lashed out after we lost Tyler. Sutler. Jones. They were my responsibility. I was pissed at myself, not you. Travis is right. I led them into a trap.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I would have if I hadn’t been so distracted.”

“By me.” My heart sinks.

“Yes, but that’s not your fault. It’s not your fault you’ve been Daisy all along, or…” His voice grows even hoarser. “Or that now that I know the truth, I’ve never been more fucking terrified in my life.”

“Terrified?” Frowning, I sit up. My hair has grown so long since I got here that it falls like a curtain over my breasts. “Terrified of what?”

“Of what I feel for you.” His gaze seeks out mine, holding me captive. “You’re in my soul, Wren. I take a breath and feel you in my chest. You’re inside of me. You have been since I was a kid, and the thought of losing you…”

My throat is entirely constricted, but somehow I manage to whisper, “You’re not going to lose me.”

“You make it very hard to keep you safe.”

“You don’t need to keep me safe.”

“You’re reckless. You would’ve raced into that burning depot if I hadn’t stopped you.”

“He was my friend—”

“Your life is more important to me,” Cross interrupts. “Don’t you get that? Sutler was a good guy, but his life is irrelevant compared to yours. Yours is the only life that matters. I will rip anyone’s throat out, burn the entire fucking world down, if it means keeping you safe and—”

“I love you, too.”

He stops, a grin playing on his lips. “I know.”

Cocky bastard. I’ve never said those three words to anyone before, and here he is taking them for granted.

But then he pulls me on top of him again and I forget why I’m annoyed with him.

—

Later, as we’re lying in his bed facing each other, I run my fingers over the warm flesh of his arm.

“These…” I lightly stroke the ink. “Are dangerously close to being religious. They could be mistaken for angel’s wings. I’m surprised your father allowed it.”

One corner of his mouth tips up in a crooked smile. “He didn’t. At least not the first time. I got the first tattoo when I was sixteen. It was just a small wing on the inside of my wrist. Nothing to lose his shit over. But he took me to the hospital in the Point and threw me into the regen chamber. Made it disappear.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Pissed me off so bad I went back to the ink parlor the following night and got an entire sleeve tattooed.”

I snicker. “Very impulsive of you. That sounds like a Darlington move.”

“Fuck. You’re right.”

“So are they angel’s wings?” I trace the detailed feathers. The thin lines and delicate curves.

“No.”

“Then it’s birds? Really? You made fun of my bird name, yet you have bird ink?”

He grins.

“Why wings?” I push.

“I don’t know. I guess they remind me of freedom.”

My eyes move to the flames. “And the fire?”

“Destruction. A reminder that this whole world is always on the verge of total destruction.”

I nod slowly, studying his arm. It’s the words woven amid the artwork that intrigue me the most.

“What do all these lines of text mean?”

His voice is deep, reflective. “Just words, phrases, that have stuck with me over the years. Lessons I’ve learned. Moments that have changed me.”

I want to spend the rest of the night poring over every word, but instead, I decide to ruin the peaceful moment by doing something reckless again.

“The Uprising has something planned for the Silver Jubilee.”

He stiffens. “And you’re only telling me this now because…?”

“I only just found out. And I don’t even know what the plan is. I am so low on the food chain that it would take an infinity ladder to see the top.”

“There’ll be civilians in attendance at the Jubilee.”

“I assume whatever they have planned won’t involve the guests. The network would never harm innocents.”

“They harmed innocents at the weapons depot,” Cross says tightly.

“Three. That’s minimal casualties.”

“Wow, Dove. I’m sure your good friend Sutler would love to hear his death was ‘minimal’ in your eyes.”

I stumble into a sitting position. “That is not what I’m saying at all. I’m not excusing it, and it kills me that I lost Kaine. If I’d been involved in the planning of that op, I would’ve tried to talk them into setting off the bomb when the warehouse was empty. All I’m saying is, large-scale casualty events are not the way Mods operate. They don’t bomb large groups of people—that’s the General’s MO. How many were killed in the Silverblood Purge? Tens of thousands? And what about the bombing of Valterra Ridge? An entire Mod community wiped out. The Uprising doesn’t target innocents.”

When his dubious expression lingers, I voice a challenge.

“When has there ever been a high-casualty event caused by the Uprising?”

“There’ve been bombings.”

“How many civilian deaths?” I push.

He grumbles under his breath. “All right. It’s true. They don’t target civilians. So what the hell are they planning for the Jubilee, then? Is my father the target?”

“Would you care if he was?”

Cross hesitates, then says, “I don’t know.”

—

It’s difficult on the base without Kaine. I didn’t realize what an integral part of my life he was, how much I enjoyed his teasing grins, his shameless flirting. It’s been a week and I still expect to walk into the mess hall and find him there, handing me a cup of coffee. I have to settle for Lyddie, who’s been clinging a little tighter lately, making more of an effort to share meals with me since Kaine’s death.

“I miss him,” she says today at morning meal.

My heart clenches. “I do, too.”

She hesitates. “Can I ask you something about Elite?”

I furrow my brow, wariness flickering through me. “Sure, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to answer.”

“Have you noticed any tension between Captain Redden and the colonel?”

“The colonel as in Travis Redden?”

“Yes. Things have been really tense in Intelligence since the bomber was stolen. Travis is on edge.”

“I thought you didn’t work directly under him.”

“Oh, I don’t.” She blushes. “I delivered a coffee to him once, but that’s about it. I hear murmurings from the other soldiers, though. And yesterday I walked by his office and heard him talking to someone on his comm about Elite.”

I frown. “What was he saying?”

“He said the unit has gotten complacent, but he’s going to change that. And then”—she lowers her voice—“he’s putting together a shortlist of high-ranking officers.”

My jaw drops. “You think he’s trying to replace Cross?”

“I don’t know. But I thought maybe I should tell you.”

For someone who works in Intelligence, Lyddie has a big mouth. It’s the one dangerous trait of hers that she was unable to conquer during our training. For once, though, I appreciate her gossipy tendencies. I waste no time reaching out to Cross right under her nose.

“Your brother might be looking to replace you as leader of Elite.”

He snorts in my head. “He’ll have to go through our father first. The General’s not going to let someone he doesn’t explicitly trust take over.”

“Your father trusts you explicitly, huh? He says as he speaks telepathically to his Modified girlfriend.”

That gets me Wolf’s trademark laughter. I didn’t realize that the entire time Cross was teasing me with his stubborn dimple and infrequent laughter, I’d already been hearing him laugh my whole life. It’s pretty fantastic. We linked spontaneously as children and now here we are, bound even tighter. It speaks to the undeniable truth of our connection. We’re two halves of a fractured whole, drawn together by forces beyond our control.

He’s right.

It’s terrifying.

“Are you going to wear the dress we picked out in the city?” Lyddie interrupts my thoughts.

“What?”

“For the Jubilee.”

“Oh. Yes.”

For the first time in my life, I used Lux credits to purchase clothing, and I even managed to find a fabric that isn’t gray, black, or blue. The dress I bought is a deep emerald green that complements my eyes and makes my skin appear luminous. I looked like a stranger in the mirror, but I felt beautiful. I want Cross to see me in it.

“I’ll come by your quarters before the party tomorrow. We’ll do our hair and makeup together.”

“Sounds great.” I squeeze her hand, and it feels bittersweet.

We started off this journey. Me, her, and Kaine. Now there’s only two of us left. But I suppose it’s better than being alone.

—

That night, Adrienne reaches out and tells me what I need to do. It’s a simple objective, and one that gives me hope I wasn’t lying to Cross when I said they wouldn’t target civilians.

The following evening, I make my way to the outskirts of the base and the tunnel off the vehicle pool where I first met Adrienne. The package they’ve left for me is inside a sleek black pack bearing the Silver Block logo, identical to the packs we carry on missions. I don’t know how she got it. Don’t care.

I fit the straps over my shoulders and then skulk back into the lot, making a show of looking around. I’m here under the pretense of tracking down Yemi, one of the officers in charge of signing out vehicles.

“There you are,” I call, smiling at the burly man as he hops out of the driver’s seat of an armored truck. “I wanted to talk to you about borrowing a car this weekend. I have a leisure pass.”

It’s not a lie. I do have a pass. I told Lyddie I’d visit her parents in the city with her, which anyone can verify by asking her.

“Sure thing,” Yemi says, leading me toward his booth.

I shift the pack on my back, hoping whoever is monitoring the cameras and may have seen me enter the vehicle pool without a bag, doesn’t notice that I’m leaving with one.