Page 202 of Silver Elite

We go down to his sterile kitchen and into a walk-in freezer. He grabs soup that’s already been prepared, thaws it, and we heat it over the stove before carrying it upstairs on a tray.

“Mom,” he says. “This is Wren.”

She’s back at the windows, staring outside.

“She brought you some soup. Do you want to try it?”

There’s something incredibly tender about the way he speaks to her. The way he pushes a strand of hair away from her face.

She blinks.

“Why don’t we try some soup, keen?”

He leads her toward the table where I set down the bowl. She doesn’t object.

“This is a good sign,” he says gruffly.

“I’m glad. Do you want me to try?” I gesture to the bowl.

“Let’s see how I fare first.” He dips the spoon into the bowl, then brings it to her lips. “Try this,” he urges.

He nudges her lips, and her mouth automatically opens and closes around the spoon. When she swallows, relief floods his face.

“Do you want me to wait downstairs?” I ask.

“No. I don’t know why, but you’re calming her. Will you stay?”

“Sure.”

I hate this. I hate how connected I feel to him right now, how gentle he is. How vulnerable. I hate that I feel sympathy for the General, of all people.

And although I hate to do it, I open a path to Vinessa Redden’s mind, because I need to know for sure.

A hot stab of pain instantly jolts through my own mind. I sever the path, shaken by the attempt. I’ve never tried to read a fragmented mind before, and it’s…pure chaos. I can’t even confirm whether she’s a Mod—the frequencies in her mind are sooff,so volatile, it’s impossible to stay in there for more than a second.

I rub my temples and approach the terrace doors. Beyond the glass, I see a manicured lawn. A rectangular pool. Iron benches situated an equal distance apart along the stone walkway lining the grass. It looks like a mini military installation.

I shift my gaze to the wall, where an oil painting hangs. It features a tranquil sea in a little cove. Beautiful and soothing. I wonder who chose it.

I glance over my shoulder. Cross is still spooning the soup intoVinessa’s mouth. Infinitely patient. This hard, ruthless man I’ve spent months with, softening. A boy trying to help his mother.

From the credenza, I pick up a small figurine of a lighthouse. Examining it.

“Is she a fan of the ocean?”

“She grew up in F, before the entire ward was flooded. It was her favorite place on earth. That painting is the town where she grew up.” He nods toward it.

This time, I pay more attention to the details. It’s quite lovely. A serene ocean cove done in soft pastel hues. Blue sea and cloudless sky. A lone sailboat glides across the tranquil waters. It has white sails and a white hull, with a navy-blue stripe running along the bottom and a red flag fluttering atop the captain’s perch.

I can’t make out the boat’s name because it’s too far in the distance—

A shock wave rocks my body as I realize I’m staring at a scene that was described to me before.

Many times.

By Wolf.

Chapter 45

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