Page 231 of Silver Elite

“I know. I honestly don’t know how we’re going to get out of this, but we need to come up with a plan.”I hesitate.“I might need to leave.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Lyddie loves me. She’s not going to do anything that will put me in danger. Ivy…I don’t know.”

I still don’t see either one of them, and my frustration intensifies. I give the ballroom another scan, blinking when a familiar face catches my eye.

Either I imagined it, or that was Adrienne.

I only got a quick flash of her, but I swear that was her face. The wide, sensual mouth. The delicate nose. The features that don’t quite blow you away separately, but together make for a striking face.

I search the room, but I don’t see her anymore.

“This is probably not the time to say this, but…you look beautiful.”

I lift my head to find Cross weaving through the crowd toward me. I melt at the sight of him. He’s in his dress blues, the jacket and trousers tailored to his broad body. I suppose as the General’s son, he has to keep up appearances. He’s clean-shaven, and his dimple peeks out at me as he smiles.

Our relationship isn’t public, so he doesn’t greet me with a kiss or even a hug. He simply stands beside me, the back of my neck tickling as he asks to link.

“Soldier Darlington,” he says formally.

“Captain.”

“You look incredible in green. Makes your witchy eyes look even yellower.”

I can’t stop a smile, but it fades when his expression sobers, as does his tone.

“The list of damage control keeps getting longer and longer.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I—”

I lose focus when I suddenly spot Ivy several yards away. She’s a vision in blue. Holding a champagne flute, watching me and Cross. Suspicious.

I don’t want to be seen standing together in total silence, so I speak out loud. “Ivy’s going to report me.”

“She might not. Also, that secret weapon story? It might not be so bad. We’d have to get you the black band—”

“I’m not giving myself a loyalist tattoo,”I growl into his mind.

“Sorry, you’re right. I know. I just can’t see a way out of this right now.”

We don’t have time to dwell on it, because the orchestra stops playing and a hush falls over the room as the General enters the ballroom.

He exudes power. Authority. His posture is pristine, but that’s only part of it. It’s in the way his gaze slices through you, assessing, as if on the spot he can decide if you’re worthy of his presence, of your own existence. His talent for split-second calculations has served him well all these years.

General Redden moves through the crowd, nodding at people. When he passes his son, his gaze doesn’t even register me. He simply nods at Cross, who steps away from me.

“It’s time,”he murmurs in my mind.

“For what?”

“The speech.”

He’s visibly unenthused as he follows his father. They share the same height. And when Travis joins them, they make for an imposing trio in their dress uniforms. Roe is the last to climb onto the stage. He’s rubbing his nose, and I know he just did a stim or two. His eyes have that manic look.

I notice Cross frown at him as if to say,You couldn’t keep it out of your nose for one evening?Roe gives his brother an insolent smile.

The room falls silent as the General ascends the steps to the stage. He waits for his sons to dutifully stand behind him, their dark uniforms a contrast with the light-blue backdrop. Only when they’re lined up like obedient ducklings does he approach the podium.

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