Page 209 of Silver Elite

He rubs the bridge of his nose. He looks like he’d rather be talking about anything but this.

“The General might be in denial about it, but I think deep down you know what she is. Have you ever met a Mod whose mind has been fragmented?”

His head dips in a nod.

“Do you not see the similarities?”

“Her symptoms are close enough to schizophrenia—”

“That’s not schizophrenia, Cross. Her mind is fragmented—because she’s Modified. And I think you damn well know that. How does the General not see it?”

“Her veins don’t ripple.”

“I don’t have to tell you that means nothing. Some Mods, a rare few of us, don’t have the silver veins.” I switch to telepathy to prove my point.“Like me.”My gaze drops to his arms.“And apparently like you.”

He curses under his breath.

“You suspected she was Modified despite her veins, because yours don’t do it, either.”

Tension hardens his jaw. “Wren. You can’t tell them.”

“What?”

He switches to telepathy.“You can’t tell the Uprising I’m Modified. If they use that information against me, if it gets back to my father, my brothers…They’ll kill me.”

My heart twists in my chest.“So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you speak to them? Maybe you can join the network, too.”

The idea fills me with hope, but he’s quick to shoot it down. Incredulous.

“I’m not working for the Uprising.”

“But you’ll work for the Command? You’ll help your father kill all the people who are like you?”Anger rises inside me.

“Have you ever seen me kill a Mod?”he challenges.

I falter. Thinking. The General’s words buzz through my mind. Accusing Cross of overcrowding the labor camps with the Aberrant. His brother killed Betima without hesitation. But Cross…He spares their lives.

“I do more good here than I would anywhere else,” he says out loud. Groaning, he rakes both hands through his hair. “This is…a lot. It isn’t something we can talk through in one evening, Wren.” He pauses. “Daisy.” His features soften as he touches my face again. “This is unbelievable.”

Yes, it is. I think back to our talk about free will and destiny, and for the first time in my entire life, I wonder if maybe some events are inexorable. Predestined.

Maybe I was always supposed to end up here with him.

His lips are nearing mine when the alert sounds. Cursing, he grabs his comm from the night table and checks the screen.

“Shit. We have to go. Now.”

“Why? What happened?”

“An Uprising fighter jet just crashed near one of our weapons depots.”

Chapter 47

Cross briefs us in the bomber jet. It’s the B-8, a new tactical aircraft we learned about during the Program. Our instructor spent a lot of time raving about this experimental three-seat model with its brand-new, cutting-edge air-to-ground weaponry system. We take two of them for the op, with me, Cross, and Xavier in one; Kaine, Tyler, and Jones in the other.

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