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

might be a clearer path at the rear of the building. I’ll rappel down with you, give you some cover, and then I’ll get to Owen and tell him to wait, okay?”

I nodded emphatically. “Yes. Thank you, Solomon.”

He gave me a tight nod and moved toward the rear of the building. I followed him, bending down to scoop up the rope from where Solomon had dropped it during the explosion. He was already by the ventilation shaft, digging through his pack.

“Here, use mine,” I said, kneeling down next to the vent to start wrapping my rope around it. I was just in the middle of tying the knot when I felt a sharp sting in my neck. Slapping my hand to the flesh there, I whirled around and saw Solomon standing behind me, a needle in his hand.

I had enough time to utter, “What the—” before blackness rushed in. I was barely aware of Solomon catching me as I fell into complete, unyielding darkness.

13

Violet

I woke up with a jerk and gazed around. It took me a moment to remember what had happened, but then it all came rushing back—the explosion, Solomon, the syringe. The ghost of the sting on my neck made me lift my hand and rub the skin there, but I couldn’t feel any evidence that it had happened.

Yet I was certain it had. I had woken up in a nest of blankets piled on the floor, and I recognized the room as the one Amber and I had shared in Thomas’ lair. I braced my hand against the wall as a wave of dizziness swept over me, causing my stomach to roil in protest. I panted at the exertion, but refused to acknowledge my body’s need to lie down.

Instead, I fought against it, forcing myself to stand on shaky knees. I felt simultaneously feverish and freezing. It was likely a side-effect of whatever drug Solomon had injected into me. I checked the time and realized I had been out several hours. It was early in the morning now. I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders—the one thing I would allow myself—and stumbled to the door. I needed to know what happened after Solomon knocked me out.

I swung open the door with more force than necessary, and felt the graze wound on my side pull a bit. Lifting up my shirt, I saw a white bandage with a thin red line coming across it.

Entering the room, one of the sofas had been dragged to the middle of it, and Amber lay on it, moaning, one hand clutching her side.

“It hurts,” she sobbed. “Make it stop—please!” The urgency coupled with the panic in her voice made me forget my own indignation for a moment.

I rushed over to her, dropping to my knees. Her violet eyes were large and luminous with fear as she looked at me.

“Violet… please… help me,” she begged, reaching for me. I grabbed her hand and she gripped mine tightly. Shushing her, I noticed the bandage stained with blood low on her abdomen. She also had a patch on either side of her neck—I recognized them as blood patches.

“You were shot?” I asked in a hushed tone.

She made a little whimper and nodded, tears dripping from her eyes. I placed my hand on her forehead and she shuddered. “It’s going to be okay, Amber. I’m going to find out what’s going on and come right back, okay?”

I turned toward where Owen, Quinn, and Thomas were all standing around the table. Owen looked over at me, his face a mixture of sadness and anger. Thomas stood with his arms crossed, his head tilted defiantly as he gazed at the other two men. Quinn looked the most frustrated—his hair was disheveled and under his eyes were twin pockets of shadow, indicating he hadn’t gotten much sleep.

I moved away from Amber and toward the men. They were having a heated debate in hushed whispers as I approached, which died as I inserted myself into their circle. I glared at each of them and crossed my arms.

“What are we doing about Amber?” I asked.

“We should be taking her to the hospital,” exploded Quinn.

Frowning, I shook my head. “I’m sure that both Owen and Thomas have shot that idea down, with good reason, Quinn—you know taking a woman with a gunshot wound to the hospital is only going to land us all in jail. Does anyone have any medical training? Enough to assess whether, if we load her up with painkillers and prepare her to move, she’ll stay stable on the way?”

All three avoided eye contact with me and I refrained from tapping a foot impatiently. It was Thomas who broke the silence.

“Solomon could have. But he can’t now.”

“Why not? Where is he? I kind of have a bone to pick with him after we get this situation handled!” Again, there was an awkward shuffling, and I exhaled a short breath in exasperation. “Just tell me.”

“We have bigger problems than worrying about Solomon right now, Violet,” Owen announced, finally meeting my gaze. I ignored his patronizing tone and angled myself toward him.

“Like?”

“Like why our intel was bad, and whether we have a mole somewhere.”

I looked sharply at Thomas, who met my gaze. “As I was explaining to Owen,” he said, “I don’t think it was bad intelligence or a mole. It was probably just bad luck.”

“You believe in luck?” I asked.

Thomas coughed and pulled at the collar of his shirt, looking wary. “Not as a rule, no. But Violet, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“How do you figure?”

“I checked every angle! I did weeks of research on my own and out in the field—something I despise, by the way—to make sure that the intelligence I received was accurate. Something must have changed since then, something that made the Patrians change their system.”

“Owen, do you think Thomas could have betrayed us?” I asked.

Owen rubbed a hand through his hair and looked at Thomas