Page 52 of Silver Elite

Chaos erupts. The soldiers on site snap to action, officers barking orders and shoving their way through the crowd. Civilians shouting that a bomb went off, racing toward the exits in a panic. I’m not concerned. I know where the explosion originated. I know I’m in no danger of more charges igniting. I’m too busy tracking Adrienne’s movements.

“The supply room!” someone shouts. “I see smoke coming from there.”

I reach the archway and glimpse another flash of red. Adrienne. Stumbling toward the exit. She’s hunched over and moving slower than I expect.

I’m on her within seconds, pulling her backward. When she tries to resist, I drag her toward a shadowy alleyway between the venue and loading area.

“What did you do to him?” I demand.

She looks sick. Physically ill. In fact, she can hardly walk, her knees noticeably wobbling.

“What’s wrong with you?” I blurt out.

When she keels over, I instinctively steady her, shocked by how cold her skin feels. Yet her face drips with sweat.

“This is normal. N-normal response.” She can barely speak.

I suddenly remember the physical sensations I felt at Jim’s execution, when I had those eight minds in my psychic grasp. The dizziness. Fatigue. Sweat beading on my forehead. I remember the toll it took on me, using my mind to incite their will. It happened with Jayde, but to a lesser extent.

I search Adrienne’s face. “What did you do to his mind?”

Last time we met, her eyes were sharp as daggers. Now they’re dull and hazy.

“Not…the time, Darlington.” Her hand quivers as she touches her ear. “Sara. Where are you?”

At the response, she pushes away from me, only to stumble again. She holds on to the wall to stabilize herself, swaying like she’s about to faint.

“What did you do to his mind? You corrupted it?”

Her gaze slides toward me. “Where did you hear that term?”

“Is that it? Is that what you did?”

“Darlington.” It’s a pained whisper. “I need to get to the rendezvous.”

“You’re not making it anywhere in this state.” I release a heavy sigh. “Let me help. Where do you need to go?”

I see the moment she recognizes her own weakness and admits defeat. Sagging against the wall, she nods toward the transport gate.

“Come on,” I urge, guiding her forward.

She leans heavily on me for support, every step a struggle for her. We link arms as if we’re just two civilian women trying to leave the scary party where the scary bomb blew up.

With potential eyes on us now, I switch to telepathy, but to no avail. I feel her energy signature, but it’s faint. Flimsy.

“Won’t work yet,” she mumbles. “I expended too much energy.”

“How did you do that to his brain?”

Her breaths escape in shallow gasps. I notice the pallor of her skin, the drops of sweat glistening on her forehead.

“How?” I tighten my grip on her arm.

“I don’t know. It happens naturally. It’s a matter of…rewiring.”

“Rewiring.” I feel like throwing up again. “You turned him into a vegetable right in front of us. I’ve never even heard of an ability like that before.”

“It’s rare,” she admits. “Rarer than incitement.”

We trudge toward the gate, where a line of cars waits to be permitted to exit. Behind us, people continue to stream out of the venue. But the chaos seems less…chaotic. The Command soldiers marching by appear to be in full control of the situation.

“I can brief you on all this later,” she whispers. “Just let me get back to the base.”

“How did you even get here in the first place?”

Although I’m starting to realize the Uprising is far more powerful than Command Intelligence can even imagine.

No sooner does that thought surface than another explosion shatters the air.

It’s nowhere near our vicinity, somewhere off in the distance, but I feel the shock wave ripple through the ground beneath my shoes. The same force I felt from the bomb at the weapons depot. It ignites the sky, orange flames licking a black canvas, as the air thickens with smoke and a sickly-sweet odor.

I glance at Adrienne, only to see her disappear into the back of a car that speeds away like a bat bursting out of a cave.

I open a path to Cross, but he’s not responding. I need to find him. Figure out what the hell is going on. But I don’t make it back into the building. I’m running toward it when someone intercepts my path.

Roe.

I freeze, hoping my panic doesn’t show on my face.

“Where are you hurrying off to?” His tone is laced with a cruel amusement.

Recovering from the surprise of seeing him, I flash an irritated look. “Roe. Get out of my way.”

Rather than yield, he steps closer. “Why the rush? Afraid of a little fire?”

I clench my fists and try to brush past him, but he gets in my face again.

“I don’t have time for this,” I spit out.

I dart to the left, hoping to slip past him. But he’s faster. His arm snaps out, catching me by the shoulder and shoving me back. Shocked, I stumble, nearly losing my footing.

“You really think I’m going to let you escape? After you tried to blow up a Command installation?”

My stomach sinks like a stone. Fuck. Fuck!

Fueled by pure desperation, I spring to action, swinging my fist at his jaw. He blocks it easily, countering with a swift kick to my midsection.

Pain explodes in my ribs at the unexpected blow. I gasp, doubling over. For a moment, I’m stunned into inaction. Roe was always decent in Combat class, but clearly he’s been practicing since his total ass-kicking by Cross in the pit.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he sneers, circling me like a predator.

I straighten, drawing a ragged breath into my lungs. “You don’t want to do this, Roe.”

“Oh, but I do. I want nothing more than to bash your Aberrant brains into the concrete.”

Ivy.

Hellfucking Ivy.

Fear rips through me. I feint left, then spin right, hoping to outrun him. But he grabs me again and shoves me into the wall behind us. I take him with me, and we crash to the ground, wrestling for control. I manage to land a knee to his stomach. He punishes me with a jab to the chin that brings black dots to my vision.

“You ’fects make me sick,” he hisses, then launches himself on top of me.

I land on my back, my skull smacking the ground hard. Roe pins me beneath him, his dark eyes sizzling down at me. Dripping with unadulterated hatred.

I writhe to free myself, but his weight is too much. My pulse grows thin, weak, as Roe slowly bends his head. His mouth brushes my cheek as he drags it toward my ear.

“I want to kill you with my bare hands,” he whispers. “However…”

He’s suddenly on his feet. The sound of hurried footsteps reaches us, and I glance up to see a swarm of soldiers appear, raising their weapons at me.

Nobody stops me as I scramble to my feet. I don’t try to run, though. Not when I find myself facing down half a dozen rifle barrels.

With his lazy, impudent stride, Roe moves to stand in the center of the pack. He tilts his head, examining me from head to toe.

“Show us where it is,” Roe says.

My forehead wrinkles. “What—”

But he’s not speaking to me. He’s dragging someone forward, jerking her arm to force her beside him.

Lyddie.

“I promise you, I saw it,” she tells him.

I stare at her in horror. “Lyds…”

She ignores me. “It’s on her left thigh.”

“Lyddie,” I plead.

But I don’t know what I’m pleading for. It’s too late. She already turned me in.

Not Ivy, but Lyddie.

She promised.

I bite my lip to stop it from shaking, but there’s no stopping the sharp, hot sting of tears behind my eyelids.

Roe nods at one of the soldiers, who steps forward.

“Don’t touch me,” I warn.

The bastard doesn’t listen. An outraged growl leaves my throat as he yanks the hem of my dress up to reveal my thigh.

My bloodmark.

Desperation courses through me as I try to link with Cross again. Why isn’t he letting me in? I need him.

Heart pounding, I focus on Lyddie, willing her to look at me. When she finally does, it’s with such bone-deep, spine-chilling hatred that I have to wrench my gaze away.

I turn back to Roe, bitterness twisting my lips. “Are you going to shoot me in the head now?”

“Sadly, I’ve been asked to show restraint.” Roe glances at the soldier to his left. “Take her to the stockade.”

—

I’m right back where I started.

In the stockade.

At least I was finally able to link with Cross. Although when I told him where I was, all he said was, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

That was hours ago.

Hours.

I’ve had time to sit and think. To obsess. To try to make sense of everything that happened tonight. The Uprising is destroying people’s minds. Adrienne confirmed that tonight. But on what scale? Does her ability to corrupt have something to do with the fragmented hospital ward I stumbled upon? Were some of those people corrupted rather than fragmented? Were some of them actually Primes? Most of them, from the look of their veins, were Modified. And I can’t envision Adrienne being okay with experimenting on our own.

But I also wouldn’t have believed she could stand there and fry a man’s brain if I hadn’t seen it firsthand.

Another thought occurs to me. Had Cross’s mother been corrupted? Is he right and she’s not Modified? Is Vinessa Redden another casualty in the century-and-a-half-long war between Primes and Mods?

I have so many questions, none of which can be answered unless Adrienne decides to grace me with her psychic presence. But she’s not linking, either.

As much as I hate bothering Cross when I know he’s dealing with a mountain of shit right now, my impatience spills over.

“Where are you, damn it?”

“Briefings,” is the terse response. “They destroyed the entire northern quadrant of the base, including a hangar full of fighter jets.”

Wow. That’s a huge hit to the Command. Yes, there are other hangars, other airfields, but losing a chunk of the fleet like that…I guess their pilot hit the mark this time.

“Are they giving you any trouble? About me?”

“Not yet. I think they will. Right now, they’re too distracted by my father.”

“How is he?”

“His mind is completely fried. He’s a hollow shell.”

It’s hard to decipher Cross’s tone. His feelings about it.

Hell, I don’t know how I feel hearing it. The General is—was—a cruel, dangerous man. He killed thousands of people. But there’s something very…pathetic, I suppose, about how he went out. Not by an assassin’s bullet or a strategically planted bomb. He didn’t get the heroic end I assume he’s always dreamed of.

His brain was simply…rewired, as Adrienne called it.

“Travis is taking control. The Tribunal appointed him General.”

I consider that. All right. From what I’ve seen, Travis is a practical man. Logical.

“Can we convince him that I’m on his side?”

“After they just bombed our most valuable installation? I highly doubt it.”

My breath comes out in a shaky gust.

“Try not to panic.”

Yet is the unspoken implication.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, keen?”

“Keen.”

Sighing, I stretch out on the narrow mattress and stare up at the ceiling. My heart clenches as I think about Lyddie. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by her betrayal. I saw her that day in shielding class—the way she recoiled at the mere thought of Amira touching her. Like Lash, her hatred of the Aberrant is so deeply rooted, I was a fool to ever think she could find the tolerance within her. That she could keep my bloodmark a secret.

She probably feels as betrayed by me as I do her.

Yet when I think about her turning me in, fury burns my throat, because I would never, ever do that to her.

You did it to Tana.

My throat closes up. I didn’t, damn it. Not intentionally. I warned Tana and Griff because I wanted them to be careful. To protect themselves. I cut that deal to send them to the labor camps because it was a thousand times better than having to bury their corpses.

Tana hasn’t spoken to me in weeks.

I don’t know how much time passes, but when I finally hear the keypad buzz, I’m a total basket case. My heart jumps when Cross enters. I stumble to my feet, then falter, unsure if I should go to him.

“We’re not being recorded.” He gestures to the jammer clipped to his belt.

Then he holds his arms open, and I throw myself into them. He brushes his lips over my hair, his hands warm against my lower back. When we finally break apart, his expression is grim.

“Travis has declared war on all known Mods.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

“This attack on our base won’t go unpunished, not if Travis has anything to say about it. Every Mod we know of is being rounded up and sent to labor camps for the time being, slave and loyalist. He says he’ll decide whether to let them live on a case-by-case basis.”

“But they’ve been loyal to you all these years,” I protest.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re either a prisoner or you’re dead.”

“What about me? Am I a prisoner or am I dead?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Cross.”

“You’ve been scheduled to die. Tribunal just let out.”

I nod in resignation. “They didn’t even see me.”

“They don’t need to. Lyddie testified about your bloodmark.”

Of course she did.

“Is anyone looking for Jayde?” I ask, though that’s probably the least of my concerns right now.

“Her body was found this morning. What a shame that she killed herself right after Travis announced that even the loyalists would be detained.”

Despite all the turmoil and uncertainties in the air, I have to laugh.

Cross winks at me. “I’m very good at my job.”

“Clearly.”

His expression sobers. “And my job right now is to get you out of here. Have you been in contact with the network?”

I shake my head in frustration. “Nobody’s linking. Let me try again now.”

I open a path to Adrienne, and for the first time since she staggered into the back of that car, she allows me to link. Relief spirals through me, but when I speak, it’s with the heat of accusation.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Waiting for my ability to open a path to return. Where are you?”

“I’m in the stockade. One of my fellows turned me in. You need to get me out of here.”

“We can’t.” She still sounds tired. “The wards are on lockdown. Airspace is being monitored, so we can’t risk sending an aircraft. We’ll be going dark for a while.”

“What is she saying?” Cross pushes.

“That they’re going dark for a while. Hold on.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“We can’t come to you.” I hear genuine regret. “At least not right now. But when you’re able to, you’re welcome at the Dagger.”

“Where is that?”

“It’s our base. Located beyond the Blacklands.”

I tense up. I remember my fellows talking about a secret Modified base, a hideout somewhere in the wards, but this is the first confirmation of it that I’m getting. Beyond the Blacklands, though? How is that possible?

“What is it?” Cross asks.

I ignore him as Adrienne keeps talking.

“You were an asset in executing this mission. I’ve already spoken to the Authority on your behalf.”

The unfamiliar term brings a frown to my lips. “What’s the Authority?”

“It’s the council that governs our base.”

“I thought you were in charge.”

“I am. But not alone. I told them how integral you were to gaining access to the General. Setting the decoy charges. Your admission has been approved. So if you can just hold tight until it’s safe enough to get you out—”

“I’m scheduled to die tomorrow morning.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m sorry, Wren. We can’t risk an aircraft.”

“What if I come to you?”

“You can only get here safely by air. No one makes it through the Blacklands alive on foot.”

“But what if I did?”

After another pause, she says, “Well, then you would link with me when you made it out, and we’ll collect you.”

“Damn it, Wren. What is she saying?”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “She says there’s no way they can get me out. They won’t rescue me.”

Cross curses.

“But…I might have a way to rescue myself.”