Chapter 11
I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding. Another nightmare.
The memory of the basement in Silver Pack faded as I inhaled richly appointed air around me—alien despite a warm bed and sunlight streaming in through windows.
I got out of bed and noticed a neat stack of combat gear on my bed chair, with a black-print message on top:
“Training at 8. Don't be late.”
— M
“Thanks for letting me know,” I growled, glancing down at my watch. 7:30. Great.
I sprinted into the massive closet and was amazed to discover shelves stocked with usable training gear rather than evening gowns. There were no evening gowns in sight anywhere—just combat boots, stretch pants, and light tops for combat, not for wear.
It took three tries to have combat boots properly buckled. I'd never worn anything so
