The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) by Bella Forrest (ebook reader for laptop TXT) 📗

for Quinn and Solomon to return from their assignment for the day—securing the final shipment of ammunition we needed for the more high-powered rifles that Owen had secured—and sat down to discuss the operation once again.

It was fairly simple, although separating into two teams to secure one objective was a bit of a gamble. I had brought up the point with Owen a few days ago, and he had agreed, but there wasn’t any better solution—I knew because we had talked all the options out.

The plan was for Owen, Quinn, and Amber to go into the warehouse to search for Viggo’s laser, while Solomon and I were supposed to be inside the office building doing the same. Because we weren’t sure which place it was located, lots were drawn to see who would go where. It was frustrating, because I wanted to be the one who found the laser, but there was no telling where it was. Ultimately, whoever found it would notify the others, and we would move to stage two.

Solomon and I were supposed to sneak out the side door of the office, avoid the guards, and come around to open the back door of the warehouse, meeting up with the other three. We would return together to the rendezvous location at the top of the hill.

All of that sounded simple, but we all knew that nothing ever went according to plan. However, it was impossible to plan for every contingency, so if things went bad, good communication was the only way to keep us all alive and have any hope of achieving our directive.

Owen passed out an ear bud and a black piece of fabric to all of us. He explained to me that it was a subvocalizer, a piece of tech that would allow us to talk to each other without articulating the words out loud. Securing these would have been very difficult, and very expensive. The electrical parts had been tucked into the black fabric, which was made from the same material our suits were—this meant the subvocalizer would vanish along with us after we activated the suits.

I put the bud in my ear and the piece of fabric around my throat. Immediately, a warm tingle spread out from where the two metal contacts pressed against my skin. I tried to speak—but my vocal cords were frozen and locked in place.

I looked around the table toward Quinn and the others. Amber smirked at me and placed her own ear bud in, and pressed the fabric against her throat.

It’s part of the function, she subvocalized to me. I could hear her voice as loud as if she were speaking right next to me.

Feels weird, but kind of cool, I replied, and she grinned at me as she lowered her hand. I undid the bit of fabric and placed it gently on the table.

“All right—we’ve got an hour before sunset,” Owen said. “Getting to the facility will take three hours by truck, so we need to get all the gear packed up and in the van.”

I held up my hand and Owen paused. Leaning forward on the chair, I threaded my fingers together. “What exactly is the plan if we encounter resistance inside?”

“There won’t be anyone inside,” chirped Thomas, condescension thick in his voice.

“Right, but if this is a warehouse they want kept from the public eye…”

“They use it for storage,” Thomas exploded, his face turning a violent shade of red. “They don’t care what’s inside, only that the outside is secure. If you can achieve complete obfuscation when you enter, they will have no cause to be inside! Your suits will help you with that, and after that, all you have to do is get to the rendezvous spot!”

I sighed. “Right. Just out of curiosity, what are the odds for success, Thomas?”

His expression calmed and he wet his lower lip. “Factoring in for a margin of error… I’d say about eighty-six percent.”

I turned to Owen who shrugged. “We’ve had worse odds and beat them,” he said, and I leaned back in my chair, trying to find an argument with eighty-six percent.

“Still… if there are people inside, you promise we won’t kill them?” I asked, knowing Viggo would never be comfortable with us killing people in order to save him. I was also in that camp, so I wanted to be sure.

Owen blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Everyone knows that we shoot to wound, not kill. Let’s just hope we don’t have to pull the trigger.”

I nodded, feeling relieved.

We worked in silence after the meeting was done. I inventoried the weapons, and stuck stickers on the stock to color-code them for each person. We had taken a little trip into the sewers a day earlier to set the sights on them. I wasn’t very knowledgeable about guns, so Solomon had to explain to me why I should never pick up a random rifle to shoot.

Most people who were trained with the stronger weapons, like the rifles we were using, were taught to adjust their sights on the back of their gun to their own personal preferences. It took a little while for me to figure out what my settings were, but once I got the hang of it, Solomon explained that any other gun would feel strange to look down.

Hence the reason for the stickers—we didn’t want to mix up weapons when we were distributing them. I also dutifully marked off every piece of equipment we were assigned. It felt a little bit like micro-managing, but I saw the need for it. With each piece of equipment marked off and assigned to an individual, we would know immediately if something was missing, and could adapt accordingly.

As I finished, Owen, with Amber in tow, snagged me and led me back to Amber’s and my tiny room.

“You’ll need to don the costumes now—Quinn, Solomon, and I will load up the gear. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

He spun on his heel and exited the room, pulling the door closed.