Page 82 of Silver Elite

“Wait—”

Pretending not to hear her, I rush forward and trip the alarm.

The shrill sound pierces the air, echoing off the walls. Chaos erupts as the warehouse guards spring into action, footsteps pounding down the hallway as two of them descend on us.

Ford’s sardonic voice slides into our earpieces. “Bang. You’re dead.”

“You dumb quat,” Kess growls, her voice dripping with venom.

I shrug, trying hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see the alarm.”

She’s fuming the entire walk out of the warehouse. The moment she spots our cell leader, she stomps over.

“She screwed it up for me!” Her face is flushed with anger. She implores Struck with her gaze. “Can I run it again with a new partner?”

Struck laughs. “No.”

By the time everyone’s scores are logged into the system, Kess has not calmed down one iota. When she checks her source and sees the wordFailunder our names, she goes apoplectic.

“Stupid godfucking quat!”

She lunges for me, but Ford steps between us.

“Enough.” He sounds bored. “Go disarm.”

We’re required to turn in our firearms at the end of every exercise, along with any weapons on our bodies. But…only the rifle is scanned, I realize, as I watch my fellows relinquish their weapons. Knives and sheaths are dropped on a long metal table, scattered in a disorganized manner.

Is anyonereallygoing to notice if one measly blade goes missing?

Struck might—she’s observing everyone unsheathe, eyes sharp as a hawk’s, but when it’s my turn, someone chooses that moment to call her name. She turns to address them.

I seize the opportunity, slipping one of the daggers along with its sheath under my waistband. It’s thin, only about four inches. It certainly wouldn’t be my weapon of choice—I feel naked without my rifle—but prisoners can’t be fussy, now can they?

—

In the bunks, I hear Kess across the room bitching to the Psycho Brigade about our disqualification. Ivy is there too. She regularly associates with them now. And she always stares at me with distrust, as if I’ve personally affronted her.

Those same distrustful eyes find me in the lav mirror later before lights-out. She stands at the sink next to mine, brushing her pale hair into a ponytail. She’s the kind of attractive that would jab at any woman’s insecurities. I suppose you have to be to catch the attention of someone like Cross. Because he’s the kind of attractive that doesn’t exist in nature.

Ivy finally speaks. “Why are you still here?” Suspicion laces her tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t shoot. You can’t fight. You can’t hold a knife properly—”

“I’m trying my hardest,” I say innocently.

She ignores that. “Yet you strut around like you’re better than all of us. It’s the biggest case of unearned arrogance I’ve ever seen. You’re one of the worst recruits in the Program.”

“Huh. I’ve never viewed myself as arrogant.” I purse my lips. “But I accept your constructive criticism and will do my best to grow from it.”

Her jaw clenches. “Why isn’t he cutting you?”

I raise a brow. I know whoheis, but I feign ignorance. “Who?”

“Cross. He doesn’t put up with this ineptitude from anyone. Why isn’t he cutting you?”

“I don’t know. I must be providing him with something he can’t live without.”

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