Page 187 of Silver Elite

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 aboutyoursex 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.”

---