Page 20 of Silver Elite

I’ve never witnessed an execution before. Hell, I’ve only been to the city twice in my life—that I can remember, anyway. Both times on a leisure pass with Griff and Tana. But it wasn’t leisure; it was an Uprising mission. And I call it a mission, but really, we just handed some stolen comms to a kid who barely looked older than thirteen, and he darted off into an alleyway. Uncle Jim had been grumbling in my head the entire time, worried sick. He rarely travels to the Point to avoid being identified, yet look where that got us. Fifteen years of keeping him out of sight and he’s recognized at home. Because of me.

It takes everything not to break out in sobs. He’s standing there, hair falling into his face, hands bound, veins exposing him as the freak these people believe he is, and it’s all because of me.

The squad consists of six men and two women, all in navy-blue Command jumpsuits. They climb the steps and dutifully line up at one end of the platform. Anger rips through me. One of them is a stocky young man with a shaved head whose eyes are glittering with what I can only describe as anticipation. He’s excited for this. The others just appear bored. I think that makes me angrier. These people are about to shoot a man to death, and they lookbored.

“Wren…”

Jim’s warning echoes in my mind. He must see the murder in my eyes.

“I’m not going to let this happen,”I growl at him.

But what can I do?

Maybe they’ll accept a trade? Me for him?

…which is such an asinine idea, because come on, two Mods are better than one. If I identified myself, I’d be right alongside him awaiting my own hail of bullets. And maybe that’s what I deserve, because I’m the reason he’s up there.

“You need to go now.”There’s sadness in his voice.

Emotion clogs my throat. I can barely see through the sheen of tears. I discreetly bend my head toward my shoulder to wipe my face, trying to make it look like I’m scratching something. I can’t let these people catch me crying, can’t let them see I’m affected.

The woman beside me gives me a funny look. She’s got pale hair and delicate features, and her cheeks are flushed with exhilaration. She has two children with her. Young children. As if they’re on a family outing. Like they secured themselves a leisure pass to Ward B to visit the only zoo on the Continent. Jim is the caged animal they’re fawning over, on display for their amusement. I don’t know this woman, but I loathe her.

One of the officers steps up to the edge of the platform. The top of his left sleeve bears a colonel’s patch. It’s the same rank Jim had when my mother begged him to smuggle me out of the Point. She knew she’d never be able to keep me safe. I was already displaying powers at the age of five, gifts that for most people don’t manifest until twelve. She was terrified for me.

Colonel was also the rank my mother held when she was shot for treason herself. I wonder if it happened on this platform. Maybe she stood right where Jim is standing. Maybe her blood still stains the wooden slats beneath his bare feet.

“Julian Ash, the Continental Tribunal has found you guilty of treason and concealment.” The colonel’s voice booms through the plaza. “And as such, you have been sentenced to die.”

A roar goes through the crowd. This thrills them. Animals.

“Do you have any final words?”

My uncle stares back at him, stone-faced. But that hardness is not what I hear in my head. When he speaks to me, it’s with the utmost tenderness, albeit gruff.

“I love you, Wren. I hope you know that.”

My stomach twists. It feels like someone is squeezing my heart, jagged fingernails digging into every cavity, making the hot, achy mass shriek in my chest.

“No words? Excellent. That makes our lives easier,” the colonel sneers. Then he and his officer step off the platform to stand to the side, and my entire body begins to shake.

Fear and hysteria whip around inside me like the loose cable that got dislodged at the ranch in a thunderstorm last month. The thing was whipping in the air, creating sparks that bounced off the side of the house and sprayed the porch, snaking along the grass. That’s whatI am right now. A live wire twisting desperately, trying to find a safe place to land.

Stop this,I want to shout at the firing squad.Stop this. Leave him alone.

“Weapons up!” the colonel shouts.

They raise their weapons and train them on Jim, and I’ve never experienced more agony than when I see Jim lower his gaze. He won’t look at them. He won’t look at me. He’s given up.

Put your guns down,I want to scream.Put them down. Put them down.

A hush of confusion moves through the spectators.

I blink.

Half the squad has lowered their weapons.

The ones who are still in position glance at their comrades in bewilderment. One of the women, a tall brunette, appears puzzled. She shrugs one shoulder, her body twitching. Then she shakes her head a few times as if trying to snap herself out of something. She begins to aim her rifle again and I furiously glare at her.Put it the fuck down.

---