Page 59 of Silver Elite

I clench my jaw and refuse to look at him. “Go away!” I shout back. “I’m busy!”

“You’re really going to want to pull over,” is his barely audible reply.

And then, in the distance, I see it. The faint, eerie glow of a force field.

My heart sinks. If I keep going, I’ll crash into it at full speed and be electrocuted, fried to a crisp before I even have a chance to taste freedom.

But I can’t stop, damn it.

“Stop, damn it,” Cross growls.

The force field grows closer, its shimmering aura hanging like a curtain of tiny stars across the night sky. Maybe I could—

What?challenges my incredulous inner voice.Kill myself via a deadly electric current?

I realize Cross isn’t beside me anymore. He decelerated. I guesshedoesn’t have a death wish.

The force field is less than twenty feet away now. Defeat and anger bubble up inside me, a fierce, helpless rage. With a desperate tug, I yank the handlebars, trying to stop. The tires screech in protest, the bike fishtails wildly, and I lose control, the ground rushing up to meet me as I’m thrown from the seat.

I hit the ground hard. A sharp pain slices through my cheek as it scrapes against the rough surface. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I groan, pushing myself up on trembling arms, as my ears ring and my chest heaves for breath. The motorcycle lies a few feet away, its engine still rumbling softly before sputtering to a stop.

Cross’s footsteps don’t even make a sound as he approaches me.

“Really? A force field?” I mutter at him. “Seems like a colossal waste of resources to install a field out here.”

“Actually, it’s been a great investment. You’d be surprised how many deserters this thing has caught.”

He reaches out to help me up. I slap his hand away, glaring at him.

“I don’t need your help,” I snarl, wiping the blood from my face with the back of my hand. “And I’m not a deserter.”

That earns me a low chuckle. “No? Then what do you call this thrilling chase we just embarked on?”

I shrug, finally managing to rise to my feet. “I wanted to feel the wind on my face.”

Cross steps closer. His dark hair is windblown, and he runs his fingers through it, drawing my attention to his inked arm. He has the kind of tattoos you need to study in detail. From far away, they appear like meaningless swirls and spirals, but standing this close to him, I realize I’m looking at wings and flames, with tiny lines of text weaving through the designs. I resent the curiosity they evoke.

This is General Redden’s son.

I shouldn’t care what his ink means.

I shouldn’t notice how dangerous it makes him look.

I shouldn’t find that danger embarrassingly sexy.

“So this was…what? A joyride?” His arched brow tells me he doesn’t buy the horseshit I’m selling.

“Yep.”

I wipe both palms on the front of my pants, then wince when I realize tiny pieces of gravel are embedded in my flesh. That skid across the road is going to leave more than a few cuts and bruises.

“But,” I continue, dropping my hands to my sides, “for argument’s sake, if Ididtry to escape, would you really blame me? I told you I didn’t want to join the Program. I don’t want to be here.”

His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes me want to look away. “You want out that badly? Fine. You win. I’ll release you from the Program.”

“You will?” I nearly keel over with relief. “You’ll send me back to Z?”

“No.”

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