Chapter 27
Breakfast is a tense affair. Saint and Gray barely say a word to me, and even Mako is quiet, which is unheard of. Evlynne hasn’t come after me again, but she’s still visibly upset over Neema’s death. I don’t blame her. I’d be upset, too.
I’m sitting with Xavier and Tana, a less-than-ideal combination because the last time Tana saw Xavier, it was right after she’d been attacked by Anson, a Silver Elite soldier I clocked as a psychopath within seconds of meeting.
To this day, Tana refuses to speak about what happened, but I haven’t been able to erase the memory of that day.
Xavier and Cross were the ones who detained Tana after I struck the deal that allowed her to serve a labor sentence rather than face execution. This morning, when she realized who Xavier was, she completely shut down and has been picking at her food ever since, gaze downcast.
Earlier, the mission leads debriefed with the Authority about last night’s rescue. One point of contention was why that force field was up when it wasn’t supposed to be, and I hear Gray and Saint discussing it now at the neighboring table.
“Obviously the intel was inaccurate, but do you think it was intentional?” Saint asks, frowning. “Someone trying to sabotage the op?”
“Security intelligence comes from the prisoners themselves. I don’t see why they’d sabotage their own extraction.”
Since he’s as nosy as I am, Xavier is happy to intrude on their conversation. “Would you just fucking relax?” he calls toward their table. “Your intel was fine. The force field was up because the captain of Silver Block was on-site.”
Gray looks over, eyes narrowed.
“The former general wasn’t one to waste resources,” Xavier explains in a bored tone.
“It requires an inordinate amount of power to keep those fields up, so they’re for show only at most of the camps.
Meant to serve as a deterrent. But if a CO is on-site, especially someone with the last name Redden, you better believe those fields are getting switched on. ”
“They didn’t post more perimeter guards,” Gray points out, distrustful of Xavier’s explanation.
“Why would they? The salt mine is too crucial to both sides. The Command bets that the Aberrant aren’t stupid enough to blow up one of the Continent’s remaining salt resources.”
“Call me Aberrant one more time and I’ll slit your throat,” Evlynne warns him.
Gray studies Xavier’s face. “Why didn’t you share these security protocols before?”
“Because I wasn’t exactly consulted on this mission, now, was I?”
I hide a smile in my coffee. Beside me, Tana continues to push eggs around with her fork.
“You just would have fed us false intel,” Evlynne snaps in accusation.
“I guess you’ll never know now, will you, Elaine?”
“Evlynne.”
“I don’t care what your name is,” Xavier says, then crunches on a piece of toast.
I glance at Gray, eyebrow arched as if to say, I told you Xavier could be useful. But he turns his head, reverting to aloof. He’s barely acknowledged me since our confrontation.
“Whatever,” Evlynne spits out. “If the force field was up to protect Redden, then he’s responsible for Neema’s death, which just means I can happily kill the bastard.”
She’ll have to go through me first.
At the table across from ours, I see Teriq’s veins shimmering before his shoulders straighten.
“Shut the hell up,” he booms. “A Company broadcast is coming in.”
I stiffen, too. There haven’t been any new broadcasts since Travis Redden’s declaration of war after the Silver Jubilee.
A hush goes over the mess hall as the holoscreen flickers to life against the back wall. Instantly, I know this won’t be good. Nearly every broadcast takes place in or outside the Capitol.
This one is being aired from South Plaza.
I stare at the execution venue, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.
Our new general steps onto the platform, tailed by several others.
I recognize Deron Radek, Silver Block’s acting captain, but I don’t see Cross anywhere.
Radek is followed by an officer from Copper Block, his navy-blue sleeve bearing four colonel’s stars.
Roe climbs up next, with a soldier I don’t know, and another I do know: Ivy Eversea. Cross’s ex-girlfriend.
Ivy’s delicate features are pulled tight, devoid of expression as she stands next to Cross’s younger brother. I frown, wondering what this means. To me, Ivy never seemed like a fan of Roe’s.
A crowd begins to form, people gathering in the dusty courtyard to listen to their general speak. But he doesn’t address the civilians. He addresses the camera.
“Late last night,” Travis says without preamble, “a group of Aberrant rebels infiltrated the mining facility in Ice Canyon and launched a devastating attack—during which forty-two silverbloods were unlawfully removed from the premises. Lest any of you forget: All prisoners, whether Aberrant or Prime, were sentenced by the Tribunal to serve at a Company labor camp. Therefore, all prisoners are property of the Company.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I hear someone mutter. Anger swells through the room.
Cross’s absence is glaring to me. Like a neon sign in the Point’s entertainment district. Where is he? I know he doesn’t run Elite anymore, but he wasn’t stripped of his rank. He should be there.
Concern pricks my stomach. He said Travis blamed him for last night’s extraction. What if his brothers threw him back in a cell? The worry intensifies when I nudge his mind only to be met with silence.
I find myself reaching for Tana’s hand. She surprises me by squeezing it in return.
“As a result of this merciless assault, sixteen Prime lives were lost. Sixteen courageous souls serving in Copper Block to protect the Continent from those who want to destroy it. My father, before his mind was corrupted by the enemy, always maintained that the gravity of the crime determines the severity of the punishment.” Travis pauses for dramatic effect.
“Last night, sixteen lives were lost.” Another pause.
“This morning, sixteen lives will be taken.”
Horror slams into me. Travis steps back and rejoins his officers, and I make another wild attempt at linking with Cross. This time, he answers.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand. “Are you okay? Are you seeing this broadcast?”
His gruff reply confirms my fears. “I’ve been detained.”
“Fuck. Well, your brother is broadcasting live right now. He’s about to execute sixteen innocent civilians, Cross! How do we stop this?”
He responds with two words that curdle my blood.
“We can’t,” he grits out.
There’s movement on the holoscreen. I shift my attention back to it just as they appear.
The firing squad.
Hatred burns my throat as the uniform-clad soldiers line up on the platform, their rifles gleaming in the morning light. I stood in that same crowd months ago, watching those same soldiers murder Uncle Jim. Now I’m watching them prepare to do it again.
The black gates behind the platform slide open. It’s the tunnel that connects the plaza to the Command base. I squeeze Tana’s hand tighter as two armed soldiers lead a group of people out of the tunnel. Men and women in civilian clothing, hands restrained behind their backs.
Their faces are drawn and pale, but their eyes are hard. Resentful. My throat tightens as the soldiers prod the Mod prisoners and a few of them stumble forward.
The first prisoner is hauled onto the wooden platform.
He’s young, mid-twenties maybe. He keeps his shoulders straight and his chin high as he stares not at the firing squad, but at Travis and the other officers, as if daring them to break him.
It’s a futile gesture. The Company knows they can’t break him.
That’s why they’re here. They’re going to break his body instead.
The colonel steps forward, eyes emotionless, mouth set in a thin line. He addresses his squad, sounding bored.
“Rifles up.”
Eight rifles snap up.
“Fire,” the colonel orders.
A wave of gunfire rings out.
The prisoner is met by a hail of bullets, followed by a horrible, deafening silence. As the young man’s body crumples to the ground, shocked cries and furious hisses echo all around me.
I’m too numb to make a sound. I inhale deeply, but oxygen refuses to fill my lungs. My breathing grows weak, a cold wave of terror crashing over me.
This isn’t war.
This is just…murder.
I tremble as the next prisoner is thrust onto the platform.
“Fire,” booms the colonel.
Another round of shots, another body drops.
“Fire.”
The next prisoner is pushed forward.
“Fire.”
Another round of shots, another dead body.
Rage pools low in my stomach, boiling hotter and burning brighter as each prisoner faces the squad.
As much as I want to look away, to deny what’s happening, I can’t.
One by one, they drop, until the platform is a sea of bodies and blood.
The dark, viscous substance drips over the wooden edge like long red icicles.
Travis observes each execution without expression. Roe, on the other hand, can’t disguise his pleasure. His satisfaction. He loathes us. He’s never made a secret of that.
I take another breath, trying to hold on to the last thread of my composure before it snaps in a violent rage.
All around me are grief-stricken faces. Enraged faces. Eyes burning with hatred as Travis and his officers oversee sixteen murders to the wild cheers of the civilian crowd. These people, the ones cheering for death and brutality, are as evil as their leader.
Finally, the firing squad lowers their rifles and marches off, leaving sixteen dead bodies in their wake.
Cross’s mind is closed to me all morning.
By the time afternoon rolls around, I’m feeling sick to my stomach. He said he was detained. Does that mean he’s shackled in a cell again? Locked in an interrogation room?
Why isn’t he linking with me, damn it?
I’m leaving the indoor range with Xavier for lunch when—finally—I feel Cross nudging my mind. I’m shaking with relief as I open the link.
“Have they hurt you?” I ask urgently.