Page 228 of Silver Elite

“We had no choice. Our unit has to do these wellness checks.” I start backing toward the bathroom. “He said he could get rid of the scars, so I said sure, why not?”

“Let me see it,” she says.

“Oh. It’s nothing fancy. Just plain skin now.”

She’s already in front of me, reaching for my leg. She touches the skin of my thigh, still smiling, but when the bottom of my underwear slides up slightly, I shove the fabric back down and jerk away from her.

Her cheerful expression falters. “What was that?”

“Nothing. I told you, it’s just skin now.”

“What was that red mark?” She stares at me in confusion. “Was that a bruise?” she asks, but the growing horror in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what she saw. “Wren, what was that?”

“It’s just a birthmark.”

“A birthmark.”

“Yeah. Let me get dressed so we can—”

In a very uncharacteristic Lyddie move, she lunges forward and pushes the fabric up.

I freeze, watching the awareness dawn on her face as she examines the bloodmark. The mark that betrays what I really am.

All the color drains from her cheeks. Her hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh my…gosh,” she gasps, taking a step back. “That’s a bloodmark.”

“Lyddie,” I start, reaching for her, but she flinches as if my touch is going to burn her.

“Oh my gosh. What is happening?”

Gosh.Even in a state of sheer terror, Lyddie can’t not be Lyddie, refusing to utter the wordGodeven when it’s not technically illegal. The General doesn’t want people practicing religion or worshipping a higher being, but he doesn’t give a shit if you say the word. He’s not threatened by a word.

But Lyddie is all about the rules.

“You’re Aberrant?” Her voice trembles with disbelief. “How could you lie to me all this time? Oh my…God!” All her rule-clinging propriety flies out the window as her breathing gets shallow. “How could this…Why…”

My mind scrambles to find a way to make her see I’m not a threat.

“They know,” I blurt out.

She blinks in confusion. “What?”

“They know that I’m Aberrant. Cross and the General.”

“W-what?”

And just like that, an entire story comes flowing out of my mouth like water from a tap. This is the reason Uncle Jim liked having me talk to the soldiers in Hamlett: my ability to improvise. It serves me well now.

“I don’t have the black bands,” I hold out my wrists, “because I’m undercover. They recruited me when I was still in lower school.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. You’re…You’re Aberrant…”

“I am. But I’ve been loyal to the Company my whole life. My parents still serve the General in Ward Z. Our cattle feeds the Command.”

“Your parents,” she echoes. “I thought your parents were dead.”

“No, it’s all part of my cover. They gave me a fake Aberrant uncle so no one would suspect what I was.”

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