Silver Elites

SIX | Reunion

Heels clicked against the gray floors of the hallway as Waverly made her way to a room with the help of a quiet guide. She held a steel-gray box with its metallic sheen gleaming from the lights. Soon, they reached a door. If the lights were not on, the door would have blended perfectly in the shadows as it was painted black.

"Here is the room, Ms. Alcott," the guide said in a gruff voice.

She did not miss the skeptical glance the man gave her, and so she did not bother to say anything to clear up his doubt. Waverly smiled kindly, her eyes wrinkling ever so slightly.

Waverly curtly replied. "Thank you."

The guide nodded and twisted the door knob. He gestured to her to enter the room first. When he made sure that Waverly was inside, he himself entered and then closed the door. The door loudly slammed shut.

Scanning the room, Waverly marveled how simplistic and minimal it was. The room had gray walls that kept outside sounds out. There was only one center white light in the ceiling, but it illuminated the entire room sufficiently bright. The guide took his place standing beside the door with a stoic and austere appearance.

Waverly blinked as she finally landed her eyes on the centerpiece of the room.

There was a black-haired man dressed in a clean white shirt with black pants. His shoes were dirty as there were several dusty shoe prints, but other than that, the man was fairly in good condition even if he was blindfolded and strapped securely onto a chair. Waverly was fairly surprised when she did see any bruises on the man's skin.

Dionte must have told them not to. Waverly thought.

A few feet away was an empty chair and a small round table. She assumed Dionte was also the one to tell the guide to put it there. The seat belonged to Waverly.

She walked to it and placed her box on the table. Because his eyes never left Waverly, the guide watched her with a slight moment of curiosity before doubting her even more.

The guide did not belong to Dionte's mafia but instead to Sheriff Taylor's group. He recently just joined the group, so there were still things he needed to adjust to. Although he remained skeptical of his boss's connection to the Ambrosino mafia, he did not question the boss.

What can a little girl like her do? If I remember correctly, she is still in high school, right? A senior. Waverly Alcott. The guide thought. Now why does her name sound so familiar? Waverly Alcott... Waverly... Alcott... Alcott... Alcott... Alan Alcott, the dean of Clearview Hospital Center! She... she is related to him?!

The guide's eyes widened.

Waverly felt a certain intense stare on her, and a small smile approached her face. She believed the guide might have discovered her identity. Embracing the eerie silence in the room, she opened her box. An exquisitely-crafted rod that was about eighteen inches lay in the center. It was pure silver in color but was adorned with throned green vines and yellow roses.

She inwardly murmured her thanks to a certain friend who developed and designed the rod. Taking the rod out of the box, she carefully wiped it with a dust cloth. If Waverly's back wasn't facing him, the guide could have seen that her blue-green eyes that were usually calm with kindness were now alighted with bloodthirsty excitement.

The tied-up man pricked his ears as much as he could to visualize what was going on. He heard two pairs of shoes and knew one of them was a woman. He could tell that the woman will most likely be the interrogator since he heard her walking a few feet away from him.

Suddenly, a bright light came, and he was forced to close his eyes. After waiting for a few seconds, he opened them. His gray eyes scanned the woman––or in this case, the young girl––in front of him.