{"product_id":"silver-elite-isbn-9780593875483","title":"Silver Elite","description":"\u003cb\u003eIn the first book of a sizzling dystopian romance series, psychic gifts are a death sentence and there are rules to survival: Trust no one. Lie to everyone. And whatever you do, don’t fall for your greatest enemy.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eThis first edition trade paperback includes designed sprayed edges, a cover with foil and a new white colorway, and an exclusive bonus chapter from Cross’s point of view—get the designed sprayed edges while supplies last!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eTRUST NO ONE.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWren Darlington has spent her whole life in hiding, honing her psychic abilities and aiding the rebel Uprising in small ways. On the Continent, being Modified means certain death—and Wren is one of the most powerful Mods in existence. When one careless mistake places her in the hands of the enemy and she’s forced to join their most elite training program, she’s finally handed the perfect opportunity to strike a devastating blow from inside their ranks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eLIE TO EVERYONE.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut training for Silver Block can be deadly, especially when you’re harboring dangerous secrets and living in close quarters with everyone who wants you dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAND WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T FALL FOR YOUR GREATEST ENEMY.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs the stakes grow ever higher, Wren must prove herself to Silver Block. But that’s easier said than done when your commanding officer is the ruthless and infuriatingly irresistible Cross Redden, who doesn’t miss anything when it comes to her. And as war rages between Mods like her and those who aim to destroy them, Wren must decide just how far she’s willing to go to protect herself . . . and how much of the Continent is worth saving.“Dani Francis wrote the adult dystopian romance I’ve been wanting to read for the longest time, and she gave me everything I craved and more! I’m absolutely obsessed, and I need the next book in the series injected into my vein right now. This book starts with a bang, and it only becomes more and more exciting as the story progresses. I could not put it down—Dani Francis is a rock star, and I’m so happy she’s bringing dystopia back!”\u003cb\u003e—Ali Hazelwood, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Love Hypothesis\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I didn’t realize how much I missed dystopian fantasy until I devoured this book! \u003ci\u003eSilver Elite\u003c\/i\u003e is a thrilling, fast-paced read with unforgettable characters and a plot that kept me hooked from start to finish.”\u003cb\u003e—Olivia Wildenstein, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eHouse of Beating Wings\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thoroughly addictive—I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.”\u003cb\u003e—L. K. Steven, author of \u003ci\u003eSilvercloak\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“For readers who grew up with favorites like \u003ci\u003eThe Hunger Games\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eDivergent\u003c\/i\u003e, I have some good news for you: There’s a new dystopian must-read hitting shelves, and it’s bound to be the book of the summer.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePureWow\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like Katniss Everdeen and Violet Sorrengail, Wren has a strong moral compass that’s put to the test both physically and emotionally as she battles seemingly insurmountable odds.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The breakneck pacing keeps the pages flying . . . propulsive and delicious in a way that leaves readers eager to know what happens next.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePaste\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A sexy, high-octane dystopian debut.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Francis expertly builds this high-stakes surveillance state and crafts beautifully flawed, emotionally complex characters. Readers will eagerly await the next installment.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A page-turner whose academy setting and blend of suspense and forbidden romance will appeal to fans of popular romantasies like Rebecca Yarros’ \u003ci\u003eFourth Wing\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBookist\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“Silver Elite\u003c\/i\u003e has all the makings of a blockbuster series, and I’m 100% along for the ride. . . . I have no doubt that it will quickly become a favorite in the book community.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Everygirl\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eDani Francis\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eSilver Elite\u003c\/i\u003e. She is an avid reader, a lover of all things breakfast, and a hopeless romantic. When she is not creating high-stakes fantasy worlds and complex characters, you can find Dani spending time with family or trying to figure out why the printer never works.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI grew up in pure, unceasing, suffocating darkness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’d like to say that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not. I was only five years old when my uncle smuggled me out of the city and took me to live in the Blacklands, the place of children’s nightmares. A forest of perpetual darkness. I remember my eyes widening when I first saw it: the ominous black mist rising from the earth and hovering far above the top canopy of the trees. I remember bone-­deep dread and then throat-­closing panic when we were engulfed in the pitch black. I remember how, less than an hour into the trek, I tripped over a skull. I knelt to examine what made me stumble, and although I couldn’t see a thing, I could feel the gaping eye sockets, could run my fingers over smooth, weathered bone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen I asked Uncle Jim what it was, he said, “Just a rock.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven at the age of five, I wasn’t that easy to fool.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt wouldn’t be the last skeleton we came across in the three years we spent in the Blacklands, but by the time we returned to civilization, fear and I were old friends. These days, a predator could lunge for my throat, and I wouldn’t blink. A Command jet could drop a bomb on our house, and my heart rate would remain steady.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen you’re petrified on a daily basis as a child, there aren’t many things left to fear as an adult.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eExcept, perhaps, awkward conversations.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI would rather fight a cougar barehanded than subject myself to an uncomfortable exchange. Truly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Where are you going?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDamn it. I’d been doing my level best to sneak out of bed without alerting my companion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe young soldier’s voice is thick with sleep and a hint of lingering seduction. I fix my gaze downward as I button my jeans. I know he’s not wearing anything underneath that thin sheet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Oh. Um. Nowhere. I was just getting dressed because I’m cold,” I lie, smoothing the front of my black tank over the jagged stretch of scar tissue on my left hip.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy burns, which dip below my waistband and stretch midway down my thigh, are a permanent reminder of who I am and why I can’t be in this guy’s presence longer than necessary.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI told him the scarring was the result of an accident. A pot of boiling water spilling on me when I was a child.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat wasn’t entirely a lie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf he knew what the mangled flesh hid, though, he probably wouldn’t have been stroking it with such infinite sympathy.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Come back here. I’ll keep you warm,” he promises.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI fake a smile and meet his eyes. They’re nice. A deep brown. “Hold that thought? Now that I’m up, I need to use the bathroom. You said it was around the corner?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDo I sound too eager?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI think I do, but I’m itching to escape. It’s late. Much later than I promised I’d stay out. I was supposed to stop by the village for a quick drink and to say hello to some friends at the Liberty Day festivities. Not hook up with a Command soldier, of all candidates.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere aren’t a lot of things worth celebrating in the Continent. None of those idyllic-­sounding holidays you read about in the history books. And let’s be honest—­it’s probably some sick irony to have a bunch of Modified people dancing, drinking, and screwing to celebrate the anniversary of an event that led to their own slaughter. But Mods do like to dance, drink, and screw, so . . . might as well do it when we can, no matter the occasion.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You’re not going to run out on me, are you?” He’s teasing again, but there’s an undertone of unhappiness. Shit. He knows I’m preparing to bail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Of course not.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pretend to concentrate on zipping up my boots, deciding this was a terrible idea. I try not to make a habit of falling into bed with anyone in the Command, the Continent’s military, but their impermanence is a major draw. Soldiers can only leave the base three times a year, which means they’ll never be anything but temporary.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Good. Because I’m not ready to let you go yet,” he says with a smile. He’s twenty-­five and was so gentle when his hands were roaming my body.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs it awful that I can’t remember his name?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pick up my rifle and sling the strap over my shoulder. I notice him watching me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You look like pure smoke right now,” he says, biting his lip.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Really.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yes. You don’t see girls with guns in the city.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe’s right. You don’t. That’s the main reason my uncle settled us in Ward Z, as far west as you can get. It’s one of the asset wards, where professions tend to be ranching and farming, and citizens are allowed to own weapons. All registered and fully accounted for, of course. You can’t get a license without extensive testing to prove your competence, but that wasn’t a problem for me. I received my weapons approval when I was thirteen. I’m beyond competent, more than the testers were even aware. Uncle Jim warned me to “tone it down” on test day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Comes in handy out here,” I tell him. “I’ve got white coyotes trying to kill my cows every night.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe laughs. “I’ll have to come to your ranch one day, see whatever it is you get up to out there.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe nonchalant remark raises my suspicions. Why does he want to come to the ranch? Was that an innocent comment, or do I need to worry?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen it comes to the Command, I err on the side of paranoia, so I quickly open a path to prod at his mind. His shield is thicker than steel. I could probably find a hole in it if I tried long enough, but it’s too strong to penetrate on the spot. Not a surprise. One of the first things soldiers like him are taught is how to shield themselves from Mods. And they’re right to do it. Primes don’t have enhanced gifts. They also don’t experience any physical signs when someone infiltrates their thoughts, whereas Mods feel it like an electric shock. People like him should be on guard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI sever the path. It was worth a try. The only time his shield wavered tonight was after our clothes were off, but his thoughts then were an amalgamation of don’t stop and yes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt was a nice ego boost, I won’t lie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Any reason you’re taking your gun to the bathroom?” He raises a brow.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“All registered weapons must be on your person at all times,” I dutifully recite from the handbook every weapon owner is given after certification. “Keep the bed warm for me. I’ll be right back.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI will not be right back. In fact, I’m forcing myself not to sprint out the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I’ll show you where it is,” he offers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI start to object, but he’s already climbing out of bed, sliding a pair of pants up his trim hips. At least he’s not wearing the navy-­blue standard-­issue Command uniform. Not sure I could’ve mustered up any arousal if he’d been wearing that. Outside the occasional ale-­induced soldier romp, I hate those assholes, and most of them hate me right back. They’re dedicated to wiping out people like me. The Aberrant, as they call us. Or silverbloods, when they’re feeling nice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe only aberration around here is General Redden and his irrational hatred for Mods. We didn’t ask to be this way. Some thoughtless war a hundred and fifty years ago released the toxin that made us like this. We didn’t have a choice in the matter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDespite every cell in my body pleading for escape, I allow the soldier to guide me out the door and down the burgundy carpet of the inn’s second-­floor hallway. We turn the corner and keep walking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Here you go.” Like the gentleman he is, he opens the bathroom door for me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Thanks.” I force another smile. “I’ll meet you back in your room.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Shout if you get lost and I’ll come rescue you, keen?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn the bathroom, I stand behind the door and listen to the sound of his footsteps. I exhale in a rush, waiting until those footsteps retreat. The reflection in the mirror shows a flush to my bronzed skin, but sex will do that to you. My eyes reveal my impatience. The soldier lauded their color several times tonight—­honey brown specked with yellow gold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy uncle claims I have my mother’s eyes, but I don’t remember her face, and it bothers me that I can’t. I was five when she sent me away, old enough to have formed concrete memories of her. I should recall her eyes. Sometimes I think I can remember her voice, her smile, but I never know if that’s just my imagination filling in the blanks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI wait another full minute before emerging from the bathroom. I want to make a run for it, but I’ll have to pass his door to reach the stairs. I’ll need to tiptoe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHolding my breath, I turn the corner and creep along the worn carpet. I’m nearing the end of the hall when I see his doorknob turn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs the door inches open, I act on instinct, throwing myself into the nearest room and closing the door behind me.New York Times bestseller","brand":"Del Rey","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233550414053,"sku":"NP9780593875483","price":20.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593875483.jpg?v=1767736633","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/silver-elite-isbn-9780593875483","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}