Page 92 of Silver Elite

Ford kicks it off, wheezing out laughs as he scrubs a palm over his bloody face. Cross rests his knuckles on his forehead as his own body shakes with laughter. Then he gets to his feet and extends a hand. He helps Ford up, and just like that they’re back to being best friends.

But I saw it. What Roe was trying to tell me before.Watch how little that means to him.Despite the levity at the end, there were moments during the fight when I knew, without a doubt, that Cross Redden is fully capable of killing his childhood friend.

Easily.

Without remorse.

I bite my lip as I watch him leave the pit.

Roe leans in again. “I’m sure he’ll screw you if you ask.”

“Shut up,” I mutter. I twist away from him and find Kaine watching us.

“Little general bothering you?” Kaine asks.

It’s what we’ve taken to calling Roe behind his back. I’m not the only one who’s noticed his sense of entitlement. His unwarranted belief that he’s in charge somehow, when in truth, he’s just a teenage punk whose older brothers have a higher rank and their father’s last name.

“Just being himself,” I tell Kaine, who slings his arm around me.

“Come on, you have to hear this. Lash almost ran away to a Faithful camp when he was a kid.”

I let him lead me toward Lash, because it sounds like a good story.

The fights last for hours. Match after match. Bloody nose after bloody nose. Lux credits transferring from account to account. Eventually I slip away to find a lav and use the toilet. I stare at myself in the mirror, at the gloss on my lips and the thick mascara coating my lashes. I feel like myself again, and at the same time, like a stranger is peering back at me.

I return to the pit, throwing some elbows as I attempt to push my way back to my group. I’ve just caught a glimpse of Kaine’s blond head when Cross intercepts my path.

We study each other for a moment. I swallow hard, trying to school my features into a mask of indifference.

“Dove,” he says in greeting.

“Captain.” I pause. “Nice fight. I think you could’ve gone harder on him, though.”

His eyes glint with amusement as he leans against the pillar behind him. A faint smirk plays at the corners of his lips before his expression darkens.

“What was my brother talking to you about?”

Blood seeps from his left temple, and he uses his shirt to mop it up.He doesn’t seem to notice or care that the white fabric is stained crimson.

“He thinks I’m on for you,” I say with a shrug. “Little does he know, I don’t screw assholes.”

“Of course,” Cross agrees. The smirk returns. “Just meek, insipid soldiers from Copper.”

“Jordan wasn’t meek.” Now I’m the amused one. “At least not in bed.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You seem mighty interested in what kind of lover he is.” When he doesn’t answer, I take a step away. “If you’ll excuse me…”

He grabs my hand before I can go. My breath catches despite my best efforts to appear unaffected.

“Wren,” Betima calls, and relief floods through me at the interruption.

Without another word, I sidestep Cross and rejoin my friends. But I can’t concentrate on what they’re saying. Or on the whiskey Betima passes me, or the next match that’s beginning on the sand.

“I think I’m going to head back to the barracks,” I tell the group.

Disappointment clouds Lyddie’s eyes. They’re glazed from the alcohol, and her cheeks are bright red. “Oh. All right. I guess we can—”

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