Page 165 of Silver Elite

In the barracks I make a beeline for the showers, despite the nurse ordering me not to get the ointment wet for at least an hour. I don’t care. I need to wash the blood away. The shame. I strip off my clothes and burst into the nearest stall, cranking the faucet. I stand under the hot spray and watch the blood spiral down the drain in swirls of pinkish water.

Why didn’t she tap out?

Why didn’t shefuckingtap out?

Why didn’tyoutap out?demands an internal voice, harsh and unforgiving.

The voice is right.

Why am I blaming the dead girl?

Idid this. I chose to kill her. I could have said screw Elite and not continued the fight. I could have let Bryce have it. But I didn’t. I’m just as bad as she is. Just as pathetic.

I lean against the tiled wall, naked, defeated. Then I open a path and reach out to Adrienne, getting right to the point once she links.

“I’m in Silver Elite.”

“Excellent. We’ll be in touch.”

That’s it.

Excellent. We’ll be in touch.

A woman’s life in exchange for two sentences, five words. Five. Words. And all I had to do was kill someone whose biggest crime was wanting to please her father. Yes, Bryce could be insufferable at times. Smug. An entitled brat. But she didn’t deserve to die.

I turn off the water and get dressed in the locker area. There’s amessage on my source telling me to pack my gear and report to a building on the base.

In the bunks, I find Kaine waiting by my bed. His gaze softens at my approach. “You all right, cowgirl?”

“No. But I will be eventually.”

He watches as I zip my duffel. “There’s a truck outside to take us to the new quarters. I waited for you.”

“Thanks.”

After a beat of hesitation, he pulls me into his arms. There’s no hesitation on my part—I press my cheek against his muscular chest and wrap my arms around his waist.

“I didn’t want to kill her.” My voice is muffled against his shirt.

“I know.” He strokes the small of my back. “We do a lot of things we don’t want to do.”

“Do you know who else made it into Elite?”

“Ugh. Yeah.” I lift my head in time to see him grimace. “Kess. Anson.”

Of course.

“Jones. You and me, obviously. And the sixth slot went to a woman from Red Cell.”

He releases me from his embrace. “Come on, let’s go check out our new home.”

—

Our soldiers’ quarters are in a three-story building on the other side of the base. I’m on the first floor. Kaine is on the third. We say our goodbyes downstairs, and he promises he’ll find me later in the mess hall. I tell him I’ll probably skip dinner. Stabbing someone in the femoral artery and watching them bleed out in seconds really kills your appetite.

I examine my new quarters and like what I see. It’s a suite with a bedroom, a tiny living area, and a private bathroom. The bed is a double, which is an upgrade from the bunks. The armchair in the living space looks cozy. And in the bedroom closet, I discover hangers of clothes. Not just uniforms, either, although there are several newiterations of those with my new Command ID, a sole star to indicate I’m no longer a recruit, but a soldier. But I also find some plain cotton dresses, sweaters, a pair of jeans. Two drawers at the bottom of the closet contain socks, bras, underwear, and sleepwear. I don’t know who picked everything out, but I’m grateful for them as I change into loose pants and a tank top.

I’ve just finished unpacking the meager belongings in my duffel when there’s a knock on the door.

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