Page 50 of Elite Metal: Warriors

Come in? The hell.

“I’ve done nothing wrong. I swear it. Whatever you heard, it was some misunderstanding. You know I’m loyal. I always have been.” A complete lie. But she was an excellent liar.

Ralley didn’t buy it. “I’m sitting at your computer right now, darling.” Shit. She’d wiped her search history but she, of all people, knew everything was discoverable. Nothing ever really disappeared.

She raked her hair. Panic prickled at the back of her neck. She tried to calm her breathing. “Look, Ralley—”

“Stay where you are, Michelle. I’m sending someone over to collect you. And darling?”

“What?”

“Do go inside. You look cold.”

* * *

It was late. Too late for a man to be standing in an endless field, surrounded by silent, shadowed tombstones, but Benedict Butler preferred it this way. It seemed fitting that when a man visited his own grave, he did so in the dead of night.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have known how hard this would hit him. But living with the guilt, the regret, the pain was hard too. He’d probably hoped that somehow this would help. Somehow this would ease the pain.

It did not.

Made it worse, in fact.

Made the memories sharper.

Fallen friends were difficult to forget.

He bowed his head and said something that resembled a prayer, though he wasn’t a praying man. If there was a God in heaven above, he could only hope he was a forgiving sort of god.

It was probably a foolish hope. Some things could not be forgiven.

Since the mission that had taken his friends, peppered his body and face with scars, wreathed his soul in darkness, Benedict had lived in a shadow world, unconnected to anything real, un-centered, lost. Only recently, had fate given him something to cling to, something to believe in. Something to fight for.

He sent up another prayer, this one of gratitude.

He didn’t know who he would be, what he would have become, had Titanium not found him and pulled him back into the fold. He would sacrifice his life for the team. Indeed, he would gladly do so if it could expunge even a fraction of his sins.

He would do anything.

The soft buzz of his cell phone pulled him from his gloomy reflection. He checked the number before he answered. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, but it was his team leader.

“Sir?” A clipped bark.

“Lithium?” Titanium’s low bass rumbled through the speaker.

“Yes, sir?”

“Are you still in DC?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. And your mission?”

“Successful. I’m just heading back.”

“Don’t.” Something in Titanium’s tone made his pulse skitter.

“Sir?”