Page 48 of Silver Elite

“For the next eight weeks, my word is the only word that mattersin this facility. I’ll be monitoring your progress, as well as joining you on certain ops.”

“Yes, please,” Lyddie mumbles under her breath. I poke her in the ribs.

“Every single daily report is sent to me. If I decide that you need to be cut, then you will be cut. If I decide you merit a second chance, you’ll get a second chance.” His gaze sweeps the crowd. “I’m not a fan of those, however. And I use them sparingly, so I advise you to do well the first time. At Silver Block, we only accept the best.”

“How do you get into Elite?” someone calls out.

The look Cross levels him with is ice-cold. “Recruit 18…Did I say you could speak?”

He’s greeted with silence.

“Oh, now you’re shy? Answer the question. Did I give you permission to speak?”

The shamefaced boy ducks his head. “No, sir.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

It’s annoying how turned on I am, hearing him cut the guy down.

“And let me squash all your hopes right now,” Cross continues. “There’s no way to guarantee being shortlisted for Silver Elite. Getting the top score in all your classes means shit. Showing off, equally futile. Elite candidates are handpicked by me, and my selection process is none of your godfucking business.”

Beside me, Kaine gives a soft snicker.

“If you’re on the shortlist, you’ll find out at the end of the Program.”

At that, he tips his head at the other captain, who steps forward. Radek has the kind of voice that sounds like he regularly swallows handfuls of broken glass.

“We do not enforce the laws,” Radek says. “That is the responsibility of Tin Block. We do not patrol the streets—that is the responsibility of Copper and Gold. Our skills are better utilized for more critical duties. Our mission is to locate Faithful camps and disband them. To detect criminal enterprises within our cities and dismantle them. To rid our streets and our wards of silverbloods.”

It takes a supreme effort to mask my anger.

“But the Aberrant are not the only threat to the Continent and our way of life—”

He stops midsentence as the double doors across the room burst open, sending a blast of cool air through the gym.

The latecomer strolls inside, his arrival disrupting the assembly with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. He looks younger than me, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Tall, leanly muscled, with angular features and pronounced cheekbones. He looks familiar, but I’m certain I’ve never seen him before.

My gaze tracks his lazy, arrogant swagger. His blue shirt is untucked. Zipper undone. He tugs it up as he walks, unfazed by the disapproving glares directed his way.

When he notices Radek and Cross, he gives a magnanimous gesture of his hand. “Oh, please continue,” he cracks. “Don’t mind me.”

I swallow a laugh. Others aren’t as successful, as some titters go through the crowd.

Visibly irritated, Cross stalks toward the source of interruption, who holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“Calm down now, Captain.”

“Who is that?” I whisper to Lyddie.

“His brother,” she whispers back.

My brows fly up. “The colonel?”

“No. This is his half brother, Roe. He’s younger.” My new favorite Lyddie makes an appearance, the one whose voice thickens at the merest hint of scandal. “He’s the General’s bastard.”

I perk up. Excellent. Family skeletons mean more intelligence for my arsenal. Maybe I can find a way to use this against the captain, if the opportunity arises.

Cross reaches the younger man, and I watch their exchange with interest. The insolence flashing in Roe’s eyes. The hard set of Cross’s jaw. Cross is an inch or two taller, but they’re nearly at eye level. Tension hangs in the air between them, so thick I can feel it from where I stand. A mountain of unspoken issues looms between these two.

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