Silver Elite

by Dani Francis

he marked the Aberrant, tattooing thin black bands around their left wrists—if they pledged loyalty. Those who didn’t received a second tattoo, a red band to indicate their prisoner status.

They’ve been taught from birth that there’s something wrong with me. I’m an aberration. I’m defective. I don’t belong in society among the likes of them. We are not peers. They are better than me. Except they’re not. They’re no better and no worse. We all live on this godforsaken Continent together, and we’re all equally fucked.

He walks to his desk and picks up his tablet. A second later, he starts to read out loud. “ ‘Lack of coordination. Insolent attitude. No upper body strength or combat instincts. Borderline useless.’ ” “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Captain. I’m sure you possess some redeeming qualities.”

“And yet Kess Farren is one of our most promising recruits, and you just sent her to Medical.” “She didn’t seem very promising when her face was under my fist.”

“I think I’d rather live than die for revenge. Wouldn’t you?” He’s quiet. “Wolf?” “Revenge is overrated. Chew that leg off. Good night, Daisy.”

“No. You, Wren, are reckless. And reckless is not the same as brave.” My lips had tightened with offense. “Rushing headfirst into danger is not an act of courage,” he continued, gruff and impassive. “Your mother thought very hard about her every action. She went into every single situation with her eyes wide open. She knew exactly what she was doing and why.”

“Ask yourself what’s more barbaric—ridding society of evil, or making innocent people suffer in order to keep evil alive?”

Before the Last War, there were penitentiaries all over the world. As a society, we housed millions of criminals. Clothed them, fed them. Cold-blooded killers and child rapists living better lives than most free people. Even the ones who were sentenced to death were allowed to live for decades past their sentences. They ate three square meals a day while those who hadn’t killed or raped anyone could barely afford to eat. Evil pilfering rare resources from innocent citizens.”

“The General is obsessed with correcting the mistakes of the Old Era. That’s all my brothers and I ever heard growing up, how humanity destroyed itself. Letting chaos reign. Encouraging learned helplessness. Kids were in school until their twenties. Adults, too. All these pathetic assholes wasting time, wasting resources. If you’re not productive, you’re destructive.”

“I believe that humanity is wired for destruction no matter the environment. Old Era, New Era. Aberrant on top, Prime on top. We will always find a way to destroy ourselves. We’re a doomed species.”

“You want a pass, you have to earn that, too. Your uncle’s actions may have brought you here, but they don’t define you. You have a choice now. You can either let pride and resentment hold you back, or you can rise above it and seize the opportunity you’ve been given.”

“So what he’s saying is we need to think before we act and exercise more patience?” Kaine heaves a dramatic sigh. “That sounds so tedious.”

that he’d never known a marked Mod to possess any less than three abilities. I have four myself. That I know of, anyway. Perhaps there’s a fifth or sixth or seventh lying dormant inside me, waiting to be unleashed at the most inconvenient of times. But another one would’ve manifested by now. I think. I hope.

There are far more dangerous abilities to have.

“I have a job to do, a fucking block to run, Elites to supervise, and I spend all my time wondering what crazy stunt Wren Darlington is going to pull next.”

And while I’m not an Old Era girl myself by any stretch of the imagination, I think it would be incredible to own a paper book. Flip through real, tangible pages. It’s nearly impossible to procure paper products unless you’re willing to pay through the nose for them. The Last War destroyed so much of the planet, and over a century later, lumber still isn’t readily available. The trees that were replanted never quite grew as tall as they should have. There are entire “forests” east of the Blacklands that are nothing more than a sea of flimsy twigs.

Mental illness isn’t well tolerated on the Continent; the General considers treating it a waste of resources.

Julian Ash. Uncle Jim. I don’t know what I did to deserve that man, but it never fails to amaze me how much he’d looked out for me over the years. How far he’d gone to protect me. Even behind the scenes, the man was trying to keep me safe.

I am all out of allies. I am all alone.

Except I’m not alone. I have Kaine. Lyddie. Cross.

The sea of flowers takes my breath away. They’re everywhere. Vibrant blooms sprouting from every crack and crevice, their petals unfurling in a riot of colors that paint the cave in a kaleidoscope of hues. And they’re glowing. An ethereal radiance casts the chamber in iridescent light.

“And they’re not glowing. It’s the daggerstone.”

When he plucks one of the flowers, I realize it’s growing between cracks not of rock, but of gemstone. Daggerstone.

Daggerstone is almost always white, although I did see someone with a blue daggerstone pendant once. Several shades darker than cobalt.

Either I’m completely crazy, or Cross’s mother is Modified.

Because Wolf isn’t Wolf anymore.

They might not care, but I’m grieving. Grieving for a golden-haired young man with mischief in his eyes.

Yours is the only life that matters. I will rip anyone’s throat out, burn the entire fucking world down, if it means keeping you safe and—”

They’re unnatural. They’re corrupting minds.

But when you’re able to, you’re welcome at the Dagger.”

“You were an asset in executing this mission. I’ve already spoken to the Authority on your behalf.”

“You can only get here safely by air. No one makes it through the Blacklands alive on foot.”

Now walk slow, stay behind me, pay attention to your footing, and don’t fucking touch anything.” Literally twenty seconds later, he touches something.