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

we couldn’t open them without making a lot of noise. There were two doors—one in the front and one at the rear. Our goal was the front entrance.

Ten seconds until I blow the power, Thomas responded.

Solomon looked at me. Nervous? he asked. I gazed around, thinking he had asked the entire group the question, until I realized he had directed it only to me. The subvocalizers had that ability.

I smiled self-consciously and raised my hand to my collar, clicking the button that allowed me to speak solely to Solomon. Of course, I replied.

Really? His face reflected his surprise. That’s weird… this isn’t your first time on a mission, is it?

It wasn’t—and he knew it. I had hoped that this kind of work was behind me, but it was clear it wasn’t. It’s not, but it doesn’t matter—I’m always nervous before stuff like this. It helps to keep us alive.

Just then, the entire field of buildings before us went dark, preventing Solomon from answering. I clicked back over to the main channel.

Go, now, Thomas commanded. Ninety seconds before the back-up generators restore power.

Owen was already in motion with Quinn and Amber following close behind. Solomon tapped me on the shoulder, and I pulled down the night vision goggles. Immediately, the world changed to a bright green. Solomon did the same, and we began to move in long loping strides down the hill. We both kept low—just in case the moon came out and gave our position away—and moved quickly.

A glaring light caught my attention when we were halfway down. I reached out and grabbed Solomon, pulling him back as gently as I could without making him fall on the slick grass. He slid to a stop and dropped to one knee in front of me.

Guard to my right, I announced on the subvocalizer as I squatted down next to Solomon. Approximately one hundred feet away, two o’clock.

Everyone hold positions—Solomon, be ready to take him out, came Owen’s reply.

I felt my jaw clench—I had told Owen that we absolutely needed to avoid killing people—and looked at Solomon. His gaze was trained on the warden and where he was walking. He had shouldered his rifle, and his finger was on the trigger. I could see that he’d already taken the safety off.

Slowly, I moved forward and placed my hand on the stock of the rifle. Solomon looked at me, and I shook my head, trying to indicate that we weren’t killing this man. His jaw clenched and he shot me a warning look, but I shook my head again and kept my hand firmly on the stock, pushing it down. After a moment, he lowered it a fraction of an inch, and I turned my gaze back to the warden.

The warden held his light out directly in front of him, lighting up his path. He didn’t swing it around, just kept it straight forward. I counted the seconds until the power came back on, my forehead sweating. I held my breath as he passed about fifty feet from where we were crouched in the darkness. He didn’t even look our way.

Once he had passed, I counted ten more seconds, and then nodded to Solomon. We couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

He’s moved, I said as I started to head toward the door. I kept one eye on the warden, and made sure to make as little noise as possible, but he never even looked back. It was sloppy, but if it kept him and us from being in a firefight, then I was all for it.

Even with the delay, it took us sixty seconds to get from the top of the hill to the door. Once there, I pressed my back against the wall, letting out a slow, controlled breath. The gun felt heavy in my arms, but I kept it tucked to my shoulder while I scanned the area and Solomon jammed the automatic lock pick into the lock.

The machine whirred softly in the silence, making me flinch. I knew the sound wouldn’t carry that far, but any sound, as far as I was concerned, was too much. The whirring stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, and Solomon gripped the small black box and twisted. The door clicked open. He moved inside, tapping me on the shoulder. I took another last glance around before entering and closing the door behind me, then yanked off my night vision goggles.

The lights flicked back on just as I pulled the door closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Turning around, I stared down the hall and froze.

At the end of the room was a warden, and he was staring right at us.

I hesitated as he reached for his gun, his young face reflecting his panic. From the corner of my eye, I saw Solomon raise his gun to his shoulder, leveling out. I didn’t even have the opportunity to hiss, “No!” before Solomon pulled the trigger. The gunshot made a small sound, like pressurized gas escaping in a brief puff.

Red bloomed on the warden’s chest where Solomon’s bullet had caught him. The impact of the bullet sent him spinning like a top before tumbling to the floor with a sickening thud. Fury flared in me—I had not wanted anyone killed on this mission. Viggo would be sickened if he knew.

But I had to put it aside—anger didn’t change the fact that the man was dead, his blood already spreading out onto the white linoleum floor. Regret wouldn’t bring back the light in his eyes. Nothing would now.

We encountered guards inside, I subvocalized to Owen.

There was a pause, and then Owen replied. Yeah, we found a few ourselves. Thomas’ information appears to be wrong.

I was not wrong—there were no signs that they had guards posted inside! Thomas shot back over the line.

I sighed. It doesn’t matter. Owen, are we aborting?

There was a long pause before Owen spoke. No. We’re here—let’s just keep on track, and improvise when it’s called for. We’ll keep with