Page 105 of Silver Elite

“…Aberrant bitch.” The General’s harsh oath travels out into the corridor.

My stomach clenches as I realize they’re talking about Betima.

I inch closer to the door that sits slightly ajar. Then I take a chance, peeking through the open slit.

There he is. Merrick Redden, in the flesh.

I despise everything about his face. The severe features. The deep furrow running through his brow. His eyes, sharp and piercing. No hint of warmth or compassion in their depths, only a cold, calculating intensity that brooks no dissent.

“…actions were unacceptable.” Cross sounds calm, clearly not afraid to offer that dissent. “He poses a threat to the other recruits.”

Roe. He has to mean Roe.

“Unacceptable? He did precisely what needs to be done to protect our interests. He eliminated a threat to our society, just as he’s been trained to do.”

My blood runs cold, because the General’s endorsement of Roe’s actions is a chilling reminder of the ruthless indoctrination that permeates every aspect of our society.

“He killed another recruit without just cause,” Cross snaps. “We don’t even know if she was a silverblood. There was no evidence to support his claim.”

“He acted on instinct and trusted his training. He did us a service by eliminating a potential enemy. I know you believe they’re useful for labor. You enjoy overcrowding our camps by sending the Aberrant there, recommending labor sentences over death to the Tribunal. But sometimes, son, death is the answer. Unlike you, Roe understands that.”

“I want him out of my fucking program.”

“Nonsense. He stays.”

Frustration wells up inside me. The General is letting Roe stay? Just taking his word that he saw Betima’s veins ripple silver? What if Roe was wrong?

“Sir. With all due respect, you instituted the Tribunal because you don’t believe in vigilante justice.”

“I believe my son.”

“Roe is a punk.”

I’ve never heard Cross sound so angry. And I can’t deny I’m impressed that he’s standing up to the man who runs the Continent. This man and his warped belief that he alone holds the key to preserving order and stability. That the whole world teeters on the brink of chaos, and only with him at the helm can we right that danger.

“He lacks discipline. He has no respect for authority. He spends more time snorting stims up his nose than studying. He’s not ready for Silver Block. He’s too young.”

“He’s a grown man.”

“No, he’s a liability.” Cross makes a frustrated noise. “I want him gone.”

“He stays,” Redden repeats.

I’ve heard enough. I spin around and disappear around the corner, trying to contain the fury threatening to boil over.

What iswrongwith him? He’s making decisions based on the word of an eighteen-year-old boy?

My rage is abruptly doused by a bucket of desperation that almost knocks me off my feet. I regain my balance and hurry into the bunks. If Roe is staying, that means I’m leaving. I refuse to spend another night in this prison, waiting for trigger-happy lunatics like Roe Dunbar to figure out what I am.

I obsess about it at the range an hour later, my distraction causing me to miss all my shots. Luckily, Ford is accustomed to my incompetence. During afternoon break, I tune out as everyone has conversations around me, wondering what Jim would do if he were in my shoes right now.

Kill them all.

Uncle Jim would kill them all.

Sadly, this isn’t a viable solution.

So then how? How do I facilitate my escape?

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