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

It made me wish we had opted to enter these buildings while cloaked, but we had discussed using it as a backup plan. There were two main reasons for that: the first was that the suits were the Liberators’ most carefully guarded secret. They were only issued full-time to Desmond, Owen, Solomon, and a few others—the rest were handed out before missions, and Owen had explained to me that if one of us were killed on a mission, we were expected to cut the suits off of them. Or burn the bodies if there wasn’t enough time. Personally, I liked the second option better—there was something fundamentally wrong about stripping a dead body.

Using them, especially on camera, was only allowed in desperate situations, and if there did happen to be cameras, we had to go out of our way to destroy any and all footage.

The second reason was simply one of functionality. It didn’t matter how strong I was, my muscles had limits. Eventually, they would relax, and I would reappear. There was a contest among the Liberators, who could stay cloaked the longest when standing, moving, or even fighting. Owen held all three records. He could maintain the cloak while standing still for over an hour, while walking for half of that, and for five whole minutes while fighting or interacting with objects.

The beam had slowed to a stop, and I slowly released the breath I had been holding until I realized it was pointed at the unmoving foot of the guard we had killed. I tensed my already tense muscles as the guard slowly made his way over to body, his hand on the butt of his pistol.

“McGee,” he whispered, his eyes darting about.

McGee, of course, did not answer. After a second, the man moved his hand off his gun, switched the flashlight to his other hand, and pulled out his radio.

“Sir, Gustoff here,” he said, taking a slow, measured step back.

“Go ahead,” replied a tiny muted voice through the speaker.

“Sir, we have a code red—I just found McGee’s body. He’s been shot.”

There was a long pause. “Are there any signs of the perpetrators?”

“Negative, sir. I must have passed them on my sweep. Or they’ve fled.”

“Retrace your steps slowly. I’m sending Murtaugh and Lowens to sweep up from our end and see if we can’t trap them between us. Be careful though, and don’t shoot at one of ours.”

“Roger,” Gustoff said, before hooking his radio to his belt. He carefully switched hands again and slowly pulled out his pistol, turning around to head down the hall.

I was moving before he had even gone a step, quickly closing the gap between us. I was quite proud—I made it halfway there before I lost control of the suit. As I strode past the desk, I snagged a heavy-looking paper weight. The guard tensed, his body starting to turn toward me, when I lifted my arm and slammed the weight down hard on his skull.

He dropped like a bag of potatoes, his gun clacking loudly on the ground. I looked around and quickly grabbed him under the armpits. Solomon appeared next to me.

You all right? he asked, moving to the guard’s feet. I nodded and we quickly moved him out of the way.

We need to move quickly—you heard the transmission.

Solomon hesitated. Violet, more guards are coming. They know something’s going on. We should scrub the mission.

I checked the channel and breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t transmitted that to Owen, only to me. We are not leaving, I said, staring him down. I didn’t come all this way to give up. Either follow me or don’t, but we need to move. Now!

Solomon’s jaw tightened, but he quickly reached down and grabbed his bag. We pulled our gear back on and began moving down the corridor again.

It didn’t seem to occur to Solomon that we should notify Owen, but as we moved down the hall, I clicked over to Owen’s channel.

Owen.

There was a pause. Vi? Why—

Never mind that, I interrupted, my eyes on the hall. Listen, another guard found the dead guard and alerted others by radio. I took him down but it’s too late. I paused a moment, and then continued. You also need to know that Solomon and I are pressing forward, even though we know it’s against protocol.

There was an even longer pause and then a click. Vi, I can safely say I am not happy with this, and knowing Solomon, he’s less than pleased as well. But if he’s still with you, then we’ll proceed. If he gets hurt...

Understood, I replied, and then clicked back over to Solomon’s channel as we continued to move down the halls.

Pausing at each door to make sure it was locked or that there wasn’t anyone hiding inside was a slow process which made me feel the passage of time acutely. It felt like hours by the time we reached the correct door, but in reality, it was only a matter of minutes. Luckily, it seemed that the group from the back was taking their time—I still hadn’t heard the faintest whisper of movement from up ahead.

I stood over Solomon, my rifle trained down the hallway, while he used the automatic lock pick to open the door. He gave it a twist once it stopped whirring, and the door swung open. He slid inside and I backed in behind him, keeping my rifle on the hall until I had closed the door.

I let the weapon drop as soon as the door was closed. We were lucky—many of the offices in the building had massive glass windows that allowed people to look into the rooms. This room, however, was completely enclosed. There wasn’t even a window on the door. If we were lucky, they would never know we were inside.

My elation over the room was quickly dampened when I turned around and saw the staggering amount of boxes. Searching every single one would take forever.

Solomon was already sliding his knife through the