Exclusive Interview

‘Broken Dove’: Exclusive Excerpt of Dani Francis’ ‘Silver Elite’ Sequel

Dystopian romance books are making a comeback. Dani Francis’ Silver Elite was at the center of the resurgence when it was released last year, taking over the TikTok feeds of readers everywhere. For the author, who writes under a pen name and opts for anonymity, the appetite for those kinds of stories has always been there. She’ll continue to satisfy readers’ cravings with Silver Elite‘s sequel, Broken Dove, which comes out on May 12.

Broken Dove, which you can find an exclusive excerpt of below, picks up after Wren blows her cover as a Silver Elite double agent. She’s safe on the Mod base, in the company of Uprising allies that have telepathic powers like hers. She had to leave her lover, Cross Redden, behind so he could disrupt the Primes from the inside. However, potential secrets being kept by Cross and hidden agendas among the Mod make things complicated. So does hotshot pilot Grayson Blake (aka Kaine), who was her closest friend in Silver Elite before she discovered he, too, was an undercover rebel.

“The romance is definitely at a forefront in Broken Dove,” Francis assures Swooon. “Wren and Cross are connected [telepathically], and distance doesn’t change that. Their whole lives, they weren’t in the same place and were still a major part of each other’s daily lives as Wolf and Daisy. That doesn’t change in this next installment.”

In Silver Elite, readers find out that Wren and Cross mentally connected as children, not knowing who the other was until the latter half of the book. “Spontaneous linking is common with Mod children, and it was just fate that brought these two minds together,” Francis said when we asked if there was anything more to that aspect of their relationship. She added, “But now that the connection exists, you might see it starting to evolve… And that’s all I’m going to say about that!”

The author was also excited to explore how Cross and Wren’s relationship would work when they are (technically) on opposite sides of the Prime-Mod conflict. “In Silver Elite, Wren was behind enemy lines, so to survive, she had no choice but to treat the people she was with as allies,” Francis explained. “She and Cross faced the world together, despite fighting for different sides. Now, that difference is even more glaring, and I knew with them being apart after the end of book one that their relationship would be heavily tested.”

Could another test come in the form of Grayson? Wren doesn’t cross any lines with her friend in Silver Elite, but we still wondered if a full love triangle could come to fruition in Broken Dove, even though Wren is still reeling from Grayson leaving two of their Silver Elite comrades to die. “Nothing is ever out of the realm of possibility,” Francis said. “I’m a big Kaine/Grayson fan, so any chance I get to write him, I’ll jump on. He’s just so lovable. He plays a large role in Broken Dove, and I think readers will find that a character’s actions don’t always define them. I like writing complex characters who don’t always behave the way that’s expected. They can make mistakes, have flaws, and still find growth and redemption.”

Broken Dove will stand apart in a few more ways from the first book. First, Francis challenged herself by slowing down the action and fleshing out the world more deeply. “I wanted to focus on the Uprising and the people living at the Dagger, and see the various dynamics at play (romantic, political, psychic, etc.). I also had a lot to set up and new characters to introduce going into the final book in the trilogy, so Broken Dove had some heavy lifting to do in that sense.”

Some unexpected twists came up as she was writing Broken Dove, but Francis said, “For the most part, though, I have a clear picture of Wren’s journey, who she starts off as, who she becomes, and where she ends up. She made a lot of mistakes in Silver Elite, and in Broken Dove, you see her begin to mature and think about her actions rather than just jumping headfirst into situations.”

The sequel also continues the main theme of Silver Elite: “Vulnerability comes with risks. Risks to your heart. Risks to your entire belief system. And in this world, risks to your life,” Francis teased. Keep reading for a glimpse at the drama ahead — which includes the return of a once presumed-dead character — below!

Read the exclusive Broken Dove excerpt below:

I escaped from the city thinking I was going somewhere safe, a haven where I could finally stop hiding who I am, and instead, I’m right back where I started. F**king hiding again.

With this massive secret hanging over my head, I feel like I’m walking into a lion’s den. Or rather, flying into one—on a helicopter piloted by another dead man, no less. Someone I thought I’d lost months ago in a devastating explosion.

In the seat next to mine, Xavier Ford rests his handcuffed wrists on his lap and grinds his molars like he’s trying to turn them to dust. He’s angry. I don’t blame him. We just trekked three days through the Blacklands, the place of nightmares, only for him to be detained by members of the Uprising, who are apparently led by my old, not-dead friend Kaine Sutler.

Also known as Grayson Blake.

Sneaky little a**hole.

It’s bad enough that he didn’t die in a fiery blaze—we held a funeral for him—but to then discover he’s the Uprising’s hotshot pilot and an absolute Mod legend? Unbelievable. He played me. Hard.

“I’m breaking that prick’s neck when we land,” Xavier growls at my ear. “Tyler’s dead because of him.”

I’m sobered by the reminder. Tyler Struck was one of my instructors in the Program, the training course that all Command soldiers must pass in order to join the Continental military. I didn’t know her well, but she and Xavier were together. I’m not sure how serious it was, but enough that her death affected him greatly.

Kaine—Grayson—led her right into a trap, knowing that the building would explode. Knowing that Tyler and our fellow soldier Noah Jones weren’t going to walk out of there alive. All so the Uprising could steal a plane.

Grayson asked me before I boarded this helicopter if I was ready for war. Until a few days ago, I thought I was. I’m here because I want to support the cause. Our cause. When I started working for the network to sabotage the Command, I spent months on that base hearing how Mods are spoken about, seeing the way we’re feared and despised.

We deserve a place in society, an equal one, and I’m willing to fight for it. I’m more than ready to work with the Uprising to make life better for Mods like me.

But… I don’t know if I could lead two people to their deaths the way Grayson did.

It’s becoming clear he’s not the same guy I knew from the Program, always quick with a mischievous grin or flirty remark. He’s a deadly network operative who’s perfectly at ease with taking two lives. Maybe not by his own hand, but certainly with his actions.

Except then he twists around in the pilot’s seat, lips quirked, and when our gazes lock, I glimpse that familiar sparkle in his green eyes. It’ll take some time adjusting to him being Grayson Blake, but I have to believe my friend Kaine is still in there somewhere.

“Do me a favor, keen?” Grayson drawls toward us. “Please don’t throw up in my bird.”

I furrow my brow, asking, “Why would we throw—” but then the chopper rolls without warning and my stomach drops out from under me.

Nausea hurtles its way up to my throat, and I have to gulp rapidly to contain it. How are we even flying this way? The helicopter is almost completely on its side. Then it banks hard and my stomach lurches again.

From the air, the Blacklands are a thick canopy of black mist, swirling and undulating like a mass of clouds moving through the sky. When we lived there, Uncle Jim used to worry that an aircraft might be able to see into our little clearing, but I realize now he had nothing to fear. It’s impossible to see through that ominous blackness.

The scenery beyond the windows abruptly changes as the helicopter soars into a mountain valley. Flashes of green and brown fly past my vision. Lush grass. A narrow, twisting river. We’re moving so fast that I can barely focus on any one thing before it vanishes from view. I don’t know how Grayson is able to maneuver so precisely. It’s like the chopper is an extension of himself, and I can’t deny I’m impressed.

Finally, the chopper rights itself, my stomach settles, and we’re flying at a normal speed again.

Across from me and Xavier, two stone-faced men are strapped into their seats. They’re the ones who handcuffed Xavier and dragged him into the helicopter the moment the Uprising came to collect us from the Blacklands. They haven’t said a word since the flight started. Neither has Grayson’s copilot, an auburn-haired young woman with a long ponytail and guarded expression.

I’ve already opened a mental path to test their shields, to check if I can read their thoughts, but their minds are like steel vaults. It would take a while to sweep for any weaknesses, and time isn’t a luxury I have right now. And anyway, I don’t need psychic abilities to know what they’re thinking.

These two men? They’re prepared to kill Xavier if he so much as blinks wrong.

The copilot? Doesn’t trust me one hellf**king bit.

I shift my gaze to the window and jolt when I find myself staring at the side of the mountain. Whoa. I had no idea we were this close to it.

The helicopter banks again. Jagged peaks, steep cliffs, and dense forest streak into view, and suddenly I’m staring at an imposing stone wall.

We’re about to fly directly into the mountain.

My heart leaps to my throat. I brace myself for impact, but to my utter astonishment, the mountain opens for us. It’s a false rock face, I realize. A secret entrance camouflaged in the rock. Two enormous doors slide open to reveal a dark gaping space beyond them.

Leaving the daylight behind us, we fly into what appears to be a cavernous hangar, and as the doors close, the natural light cedes to the artificial. The chopper lands with a gentle thump on the black tarmac, rotors hissing for several more seconds in a steady thrum before fading into silence.

“Are we inside the f**king mountain?” Xavier demands.

Grayson chuckles from the pilot’s seat. He’s unstrapping his harness. “Welcome to Blue Dagger base,” he tells us. “Aka the Dagger.”

A million questions run through my mind. Why is it called Blue Dagger base? How many people live here? How has it stayed undetected all this time? I’d ask, but I have a feeling nobody’s going to be forthcoming when I’ve got Xavier at my side.

“Get out,” one of the scowling men barks at me, and I scowl back as I unsnap my seatbelt.

The other man hauls a restrained Xavier out the side door. I jump out after them, my boots hitting the tarmac with a thud.

I examine my surroundings, expecting to find a whole fleet of planes, perhaps the B-8 bomber Grayson stole from the Command, but save for a few open-top vehicles, some motorcycles, and this helicopter, the hangar sits empty.

My gaze follows the short runway to the massive metal wall at the end of it. I note the keypads affixed on either side of it, the blinking red lights from cameras on the ceiling. I’d bet the main hangar is beyond that wall, and this one is used solely for takeoffs and landings.

“What is this place?” mutters Xavier, his surly gaze fixed on Grayson.

“Abandoned installation from the Last War.” Grayson slams the chopper door, then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a sleek device and checks the screen.

The device is smaller than the Company-issued comms, and silver rather than black. Adrienne carried a similar one the first time I met her for a secret rendezvous on the Command base. The Uprising must have their own tech, which triggers my curiosity.

“How did you find it?” Xavier pushes.

Grayson is about to answer, but when his copilot frowns at him, he turns to the two men and says, “Take him to the cells.”

Panic bubbles inside me as they reach for Xavier. “Wait,” I protest. “Stop. I told you, he helped me escape.”

“And I told you I don’t care,” Grayson replies. He rolls his eyes when Xavier takes an aggressive stance as if preparing to resist. “Don’t fight it, Ford. You’ll get your chance to defend yourself. For now, don’t make s**t harder for yourself.”

My gaze finds Xavier’s, and an unspoken exchange passes between us. He might not be telepathic like I am, but my eyes are perfectly capable of transmitting my message, loud and clear.

We’ll regroup later and come up with a plan.

His head dips in a quick nod. Xavier might be annoying, but he’s not stupid. There’s a reason he made second lieutenant in the Command and was selected for Elite, Silver Block’s most coveted unit.

With a dour look, he allows them to pull him toward a nearby door. It doesn’t have a handle, just a smooth metal surface and a scanner on the wall that requires a thumbprint. The door slides open, and the men shove Xavier through it.

When I hear the soft hiss of the door sealing shut, I realize it’s an air lock.

Once they’re gone, the copilot glances at me, not bothering to hide her wariness. “You have this handled?” she asks Grayson.

At his nod, she disappears through the air lock without another word.

Finally alone, the two of us eye each other.

I don’t know what to make of this new Kaine. This Grayson Blake.

I study his getup—a gray cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and black trousers encasing his long legs. The last time I saw him, he was sporting the same navy-blue Command uniform I’m currently wearing.

“Ford doesn’t deserve to be in a cell,” I say darkly. “He helped me escape Sanctum Point. I wouldn’t have made it through the Blacklands without him.”

“As I already told you, the Authority will decide what to do with him.” Noting my frustration, Grayson softens his tone. “We’re not giving a Silver Block lieutenant free rein of our base. He’ll be detained until further notice.”

“You mean until you decide whether you’re going to kill him.”

“Pretty much.”

I shake my head at him. “You weren’t this callous on the Command base.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “I was.” Then his eyes sparkle. “But I was also charming. Lovable. Hilarious…”

I recite my own list. “Conceited, obnoxious…”

He winks. “I’m a man of many talents, Darlington. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“I haven’t figured out anything other than I cried at your funeral. I grieved for you.”

The playful glint is snuffed from his expression. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. I truly am. But I had a mission to execute. You of all people should understand that. You were running a mission, too, after we recruited you.”

“’We,’ ” I echo, still trying to process that. “I can’t believe you were a Mod that entire time.”

Even as I glower at him in accusation, I can’t resist opening a path and tapping into the frequency for telepathy. When you link with someone, you need to ask for permission. It’s a nudge, a polite way to access their mind, rather than the mind-reading frequency that allows you to push your way inside. Luckily, every Mod has an internal alarm system designed to combat that unwanted intrusion. If someone infiltrates your shield, an electric shock courses up the back of your neck, alerting you to the danger.

With telepathy, Mods possess their own unique energy signatures. You recognize that energy when you link, and if someone dies, that energy disappears.

Grayson doesn’t have a telepathic signature.

The discovery fills me with bewilderment. I can see his shield, a strong one, which means reading his mind is a possibility. But telepathic energy? Nothing.

“Why can’t I link with you?” I stare at him, suspicion churning in my stomach. “What kind of Mod are you?”

“The kind without telepathy.”

My mistrust gives way to surprise. “Bulls**t.”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugs. “We’re a rare breed.”

“But you are Modified?”

“Yes.”

“So what can you do?”

That makes him chuckle. “Sorry, cowgirl. You’re need-to-know at the moment. Until you see the Authority, you’re not getting any more answers.”

“Fine. Where’s the Authority then? Where’s Adrienne?”

“You’ll be summoned soon for a briefing.” His comm vibrates in his hand, and he checks the screen again, sighing.

“Is that them?”

“No.” Sliding the device in his pocket, he takes off walking and gestures for me to follow him.

I struggle to match his long strides, trying to absorb everything I’m seeing. And here I thought the Command base’s layout was complicated. The Dagger is a sprawling network of tunnels and corridors bathed in artificial lighting. There are cameras everywhere, and nearly every door requires a print or eye scan.

“Is this a fortress or a prison?” I ask, marveling at the security protocols.

“A little bit of both,” he says without slowing down.

“I can’t believe we’re inside a mountain.”

“Pretty f**king cool, huh?”

A pair of automatic doors slide open at our approach, and we head down another long corridor toward an elevator bank.

“How many levels is this place?”

“Three. This is the Operations floor, which houses our command center, training facilities, armory, comms. Second floor is R and I—Research and Intelligence,” he clarifies at my blank face. “It’s where you’ll find the medical bay, labs, that kind of stuff. And the top floor is Personnel.”

We ride the elevator to the third floor, where Grayson points out various facilities during our brisk walk. Common areas, mess hall, kitchen. We pass only a handful of people on our mazelike journey. They’re all in civilian clothes, and while they vary in skin and hair colors, they convey the same curiosity when they spot me.

“They know I’m a Mod, right?” I murmur when one of those civilians side-eyes me.

Grayson nods. “Only Mods are allowed in the Dagger. Which is another reason why Ford won’t be welcome. I really wish you ran it past Adrienne before you dragged his ass here.”

“Well, it’s too late now. He’s already here.” I glance over at him. “Why is it called the Dagger?”

“Because this mountain is full of daggerstone. When the founders of the Uprising stumbled on this place after General Redden’s Coup, they took a very literal naming approach.” His eyes dance with amusement.

His mention of the Coup is a depressing reminder that the Uprising has been in operation for twenty-five years now. Twenty-five years of fighting against a regime that wants us either dead or living as second-class citizens. General Redden’s Silver Jubilee was only days ago, the celebration marking a quarter century of his reign, and I was right there in the ballroom when that reign ended in crushing defeat as Adrienne corrupted the man’s brain. I stood there in pure disbelief while she reduced the General to a vegetative state in front of our very eyes.

At that reminder, I force Grayson to stop walking, curling my hand around his arm. “Did you know what Adrienne was going to do to General Redden at the Jubilee?”

“Yes.” His response is swift. Unapologetic.

“And you just let her do that? She fried his brain.”

“Can’t say I’m too shaken up about it. The man has killed tens of thousands of Mods. He was the enemy, and we’re fighting a war.”

I know he’s right, but… Shouldn’t there be rules to warfare? Honor in war?

Honor? an inner voice mocks. You incited a woman to shoot herself in the head.

The memory triggers a rush of nausea. My hands shake a little, so I press them to my sides as I trail Grayson down the hall.

Even days after the fact, I can’t erase the horror of what I did.

I stole someone’s free will. It’s a sickening notion, making me feel like one of those vengeful gods we read about in school. The ones who toyed with the mortals they created. Tricked them, seduced them, tormented them whenever it struck their fancy. But most of those mortals were innocent, I have to remind myself. Jayde Valence, the woman I killed, was far from innocent. She was the General’s right-hand woman, and she helped him kill and enslave her own people. The world is a better place without her in it.

But isn’t it better off without the General, too? Maybe destroying an enemy of that magnitude justifies what Adrienne did.

What I did.

Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

Finally, we reach the base’s living quarters. Grayson stops at a door at the end of the hall and presents his thumb to a scanner. The lock releases, and we enter what seems to be a small apartment.

His, I suspect, because the scent of him, crisp citrus and pine, lingers in the air. There’s a flight jacket draped over a tall stool at the kitchen counter. The living area contains a sofa, two armchairs, and a table laden with several tablets and a half-finished cup of coffee. A wide doorway across the main space leads to what I assume are a bedroom and lavatory.

“These are your quarters?”

He nods.

“Why am I in your quarters, Kaine?”

“Grayson,” he corrects. “But you can call me Gray. Most people do.”

“Why am I in your quarters, asshole?”

His lips twitch. “Because you haven’t been assigned a room yet.” He walks toward an armchair. “I got you some clean clothes from Luisa.”

“Luisa?”

“You met her on the plane. My copilot. You’re about her size.” He picks up a stack of clothing from the chair and passes it to me, nodding toward the doorway behind me. “Lav’s through there. You’re covered in dirt and smell like campfire. Why don’t you go take a shower? By the time you’re done, the Authority should be ready for you.”

I nod in gratitude. I do feel grimy and in desperate need of a shower after spending days in the Blacklands. And I could use a moment alone.

The shower stall is small, designed for one person. I crank the water and wonder where it’s coming from, how it fills these pipes. Underground reservoirs, maybe? And how are they filtering the air this deep into the mountain? Controlling the temperature? I’m so curious about this base.

I drag a bar of soap all over my body and wash away the dirt of the journey here, watching it swirl at my feet before disappearing down the drain. I wash my hair, which has grown longer than I usually keep it, falling well past my breasts. The shampoo smells like citrus, and I scrub my scalp three times because those yellow ants in the Blacklands have a way of getting into your hair and clothing.

When I no longer feel like I have insects crawling all over me, I turn toward the spray and close my eyes. As the water soaks my face, I finally allow myself to do what I’ve desperately been resisting all day.

I reach out to my best friend.

Wolf.

Cross.

I imagine he’s busy in the city, cleaning up the mess I left, picking up the pieces of the Mod attack that destroyed a Command hangar and took out a nice chunk of their fleet. I’m sure his brother isn’t thrilled with him right now. Although our relationship was never public knowledge, Cross’s older brother, Travis, suspected we were together. The fact that Travis was appointed the new General only complicates matters. He has ultimate control now. If he chooses to punish Cross for any alleged wrongdoing, he has the power to do so.

A wave of emotion swells inside me when I hear his familiar voice in my head.

“You good, Dove?”

Dove.

What began as a way to mock me eventually became a term of endearment, and now I melt every time I hear it. I prefer it to sweetling or honey, though I wouldn’t be against hearing either of those escape his sexy mouth. Hell, Cross could make anything sound sexy. He could recite pages from a weapons manual and still succeed in turning me on.

I picture his perfect face, those cobalt-blue eyes, the mocking dimple and wicked smile… I think about his tall, broad body and big, capable hands… and the charged, heated shiver that rolls up my spine has nothing to do with the hot water pounding against my flesh.

“I’m fine. We made it to the Uprising base,” I tell him.

“That’s good.”

Something in his voice gives me pause. “Are you all right? You sound off.”

He takes a beat before answering. “I haven’t been sleeping much since you left.”

“Where are you right now? Are you in your quarters?”

Another beat. “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?” I push.

“It’s just a s**tshow,” he finally says. “All of it.”

“Same here. They detained Xavier.”

“Figured that would happen.”

“I was hoping he’d earn some goodwill with them by helping me, but they don’t trust him. I’m going to do everything I can to get him out of lockup, but we might need to find a way for you to extract him.”

The moment the suggestion leaves my mouth, I realize it’s impossible. An extraction would mean revealing the location of the Dagger, and I can’t give that up, not even to Cross. I’d be endangering every single person here.

“I don’t know how feasible that is,” he says. “They’re watching me like a hawk.”

“Does Travis suspect you helped me escape?”

“I told him you deceived me and seduced Xavier into helping you, but I don’t know if he believes that. Either way, he’s not happy that I let you into Silver Elite. He thinks I compromised Company intelligence.”

I tip my face toward the shower spray so I can pretend it’s soaked with water and not tears. I hate the thought of Cross all alone in the city without any backup.

I hesitate, not sure how much more I should tell him, but it feels wrong keeping secrets from him, so I blurt out the confession.

“Kaine is alive.”

“Are you f**king kidding me?”

“Nope. He was working for the Uprising the entire time he was in Silver Block. He helped them the night the B-8 was stolen.”

I leave it at that, because while I trust Cross, I also feel oddly loyal to Grayson. Gray. Whatever the hell his name is.

Unless Cross fully comes aboard and works with the network, he doesn’t need to know that Kaine is Grayson Blake, the pilot who Silver Elite has been trying to compile intelligence on.

“That prick was playing us the entire time?”

“Hey, I was undercover, too,” I point out. “If you’re not mad at me, you can’t be mad at him.”

“I sure as f**k can.”

His indignant growl makes me smile. It’s crazy how much I already miss him, and we’ve only been apart a few days. My lips crave his, my hands tingling with the urge to run over his sculpted muscles, his tattoos, the strong line of his jaw.

“So Kaine is Modified?” Cross says, and I can practically see his shrewd military brain working over the implications.

“Yes, but I don’t know what abilities he has.”

My skin is turning beet red from the heat, so I twist off the faucet and open the glass door, stepping onto a black rubber mat. I find a fresh towel next to the sink and wrap myself in it before wiping the steam off the mirror. Gray also left out a hairbrush, a toothbrush, and a few other toiletries. My dead friend is a gentleman.

Silence stretches between us. I stare at my reflection in the mirror and find a pair of weary honey-brown eyes peering back at me.

“Why didn’t you come with me?” I can’t stop myself from saying.

“You know why. I have to protect my mother. And someone needs to keep my brothers in check. Travis just declared war.”

“Yes, and we’re on opposite sides of it when we should be on the same side,” I say in frustration.

“I couldn’t have gone with you even if I wanted to,” he replies, equally frustrated. “The Uprising would’ve killed me on sight. I’m General Redden’s son. They’re never going to trust me.”

“What if you offered them intel in exchange for asylum? You said Travis is rounding up all the known Mods in the wards. Is he killing them?”

“I think most of them are being sent to labor camps for now. And there’s no intel I can provide that will ever earn me their trust.”

“But what if they knew you were Modified?”

“Have you told them about me?”

His question triggers a jolt of shock. “Of course not. I would never do that. But I think if they knew—”

“It would only piss them off more,” he finishes. “I wouldn’t just be the enemy. They’ll call me a traitor to my people. No better than Jayde Valence or any of the other loyalist Mods.”

“But you’re not a loyalist,” I object. “What, you’re supposed to single-handedly topple a regime that pervades every aspect of society? Just you? You’re doing what you can to change the system from within. To save the lives you can.”

“Wren,” he says, his voice gruff, “do you honestly believe your Uprising will view it that way? Because we both know they’ll just declare I’m not doing enough. And then… they’ll kill me,” he reiterates.

I don’t want him to be right, but I fear he is.

“There’s one more thing…” I trail off, trying to unravel the inexplicable knot of shame I suddenly feel. “When Xavier and I were in the Blacklands, I found a letter from my uncle in our old hut. He said my parents were traitors to the Uprising. They got hundreds of Mods killed.”

“F**k. Have you told anyone else?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t.” Cross’s tone is sharp, forceful. “You can’t say a word about it. Your life could be at risk if they find out.”

“I know.”

I push wet hair off my forehead and reach for a smaller towel to dry it with. Cross falls quiet again. Several seconds tick by before his husky voice ripples through my mind.

“Daisy.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

My heart clenches. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll check in with you later.”

He’s gone before I can respond, the link breaking and my mind already missing his presence.

I towel-dry my hair and brush it back into a ponytail, then put on the clothes Gray brought me. The black leggings have some stretch and fit me fine, but the T-shirt is too tight around my chest because my breasts are larger than Luisa’s.

I walk into the living area to find Gray speaking into his comm. He sounds annoyed, and when he notices me enter, he wastes no time ending the call.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he mutters before sliding the device into his pocket.

“Thanks for the clothes,” I tell him.

His eyes sweep over me, twinkling when they rest on my bare feet. “Boot up. The Authority is ready for you.”

“Gee, I’m so honored.” I find a pair of socks and clean boots on the armchair. “So this Authority,” I say, lacing up my left boot. “It’s like a leadership council or something? How many people are on it?”

“Five.”

“Including Adrienne.”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“Yep.”

I raise a brow. “That’s a huge position of power you’ve got over here, Grayson.”

“Damn right, Wren.”

We grin at each other, and for a moment it’s like old times at the Command base.

Ugh. Fine. Maybe I missed him. I missed his laughter and his teasing and his cocky jokes.

I suppose I’m not entirely outraged that he’s still alive.

“Who are the other three?” I ask, hopping to my feet.

“You’ll meet them soon.”

We head out and ride the elevator to the Operations floor. Gray points out a set of doors at the end of the hall and tells me that’s the training wing.

“You’re going to be impressed with our target ranges,” he says. “I know how much you love your guns.”

“I don’t think you can make fun of me anymore about my gun love, considering I just found out how hot you are for planes.”

We reach a pair of wide metal doors with yet another security keypad.

“This is the war room.” Gray is about to scan his thumb, then stops. “Listen, just… be prepared.”

A frown touches my lips. “For what?”

“Ah…” He closes his mouth. Then opens it. Then lets out a breath. “F**k it. You’ll see,” he says, and scans his thumbprint.

Beyond the doors is a vast room lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs, with a long table in the center. The ceiling is a grid of pipes and vents, the floor a polished dark tile that echoes with the sound of our footsteps. Holoscreens line the walls, as well as some Old Era monitors, the kind that require electrical plugs. Backup system, maybe.

There’s another holoscreen in the center of the table. Two women sit in front of it, peering at the green-white particles that project an image I can’t make out. I catch a flash of red hair, and then my gaze locks on a familiar face. Big eyes, sensual mouth, narrow chin. Adrienne has an assortment of features that comes together to create a face that’s not quite beautiful but is certainly striking.

Next to Adrienne is an older woman with pale skin and short blond hair streaked with silver. At the head of the table, two men stand with their backs to us. One of them, a young man in his late twenties with a tawny complexion and cropped hair, glances over when we enter.

The second man turns at our footsteps, and shock slams into me.

For a second, I can’t breathe. Lungs seizing. Throat squeezed shut. I’m rooted in place, wholly stunned by what I’m seeing.

It’s Uncle Jim.

From Broken Dove, published by arrangement with Del Rey. Copyright © 2026 by Dani Francis.