Silver Elite

by Dani Francis

When you’re petrified on a daily basis as a child, there aren’t many things left to fear as an adult.

Other people’s relationships seem suffocating, and I’ve witnessed so many women bending to a man’s every whim. I don’t bend.

Because at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who your leaders are—they’re all assholes.

Nothing good ever comes from the notion that one group is better than another.

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.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” I remark. “I don’t do it often. I like to save it for the nights I watch someone get impaled on a fence and listen to them shriek in agony.” “Seems like a good occasion for it.”

I’m always on the brink of losing control. I’ve felt it my entire life, that precarious sensation.

The Elite war room is dimly lit, of course, since windows play no role on this base.

“Control yourself. You are not there to be the fire that burns down the world, Wren. You’re just a piece of kindling.”

“We spent our whole lives loving each other from a distance. We can do it for a little while longer.”