Page 51 of Silver Elite

“Thanks for clarifying that, too. I was in the throes of lust for you until you said that.”

I stride off. He’s entertaining, but not in a reassuring way. He seems like the kind of guy who could slit your throat without blinking. That’s probably why he gets along with Anson so well.

I join Lyddie and Kaine, keeping my head down as I eat my food. I feel Roe’s eyes on me the entire time.

—

Shielding. It’s our first class after lunch and I’ve been dreading it since I saw it listed on my source.

I sit next to Lyddie, my hands folded in my lap, trying to ignore the nagging sense of unease that coils in the pit of my stomach. I get it, though. Protecting your mind is a skill deemed essential for anyone living in a world where there are people who can infiltrate it. And I can’t deny I’m curious about their tactics. Maybe if I know exactly how they construct their shields, I can learn how to dismantle them.

While we wait for our instructor, I send out the usual mental feelers. Polly. Declan. Tana. Only the latter reciprocates. My best friend sounds increasingly worried each time we link.

“You good?”

“For now. I barely slept last night. I was trying to figure out a way out of here.”

“Honestly, maybe you should stay put. You’re probably safer on that base than you’d be in Hamlett right now. When I showed up to work at the inn this morning, there was a surveillance drone in the town square. They’re watching our every move.”

Guilt tugs at my insides.“I’m so sorry. They’re only there because of Jim and me.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t come back to Z, babe. Even if you find a way to escape, don’t come home.”

The guilt tightens into a knot of pain.Then where am I supposed to go?I want to shout.

“Where are you now?”Tana asks.“Are you alone?”

“No. I’m in a class about shielding.”

“Ha. That should be interesting.”

Tyler Struck walks through the doorway. She takes her place at the holoboard and begins without preamble.

“To beat your enemy, you must understand your enemy.”

Her finger moves through the air, and a scribble of white letters appear in the blackish ether.

She writesTelepaths.

It’s hard to resist the sarcastic urge to raise my hand and say,That’sme.

She writesProjectors.

Also me.

Mind readers.

Me again.

Healers.

I wish.

Empaths.

No thanks.

Precogs.

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