The Gender War (The Gender Game #4) by Bella Forrest (read novel full TXT) 📗

By the end of his speech, Owen was practically seething, and I had to blink several times at how vehemently he had defended me, in spite of my rudeness toward him. It was… enough to make me start to respect the man. A part of me was disappointed—if he survived this encounter in the hallway, I couldn’t be a ruthless jerk to him anymore.

Oh well. It would make Violet happy, and Owen had clearly earned it.

Amber looked up at the ceiling for a moment, and then shook her head. “How do you know?” she asked finally. “About Desmond—about using us—how do you know?”

“I heard her, Amber. I was using one of the suits, and I heard her say it. She’s been using us. She… she used me.” Owen paused, shaking his head in melancholy, as if he still couldn’t believe the sudden change of events. It was clear he was still reeling from the betrayal—I could only imagine how much it stung. “I don’t know if she planned for me to get caught, but the bombing was designed to fail. Elena already knew it was coming, because she was going to use it to gain public support from Matrians to support her aggression toward Patrus.”

Amber was shaking her head, her disbelief evident. “You’re wrong,” she stated, as if it were fact. But beside her, Henrik looked doubtful.

“He’s not,” I said from behind Owen, moving up next to him. I lowered my gun, hoping that even if Amber got angry enough to fire, she wouldn’t fire on a non-threatening man. “We’ve been played, Amber. The bomb was real, but poorly constructed, with more than enough time to defuse it.”

“You’re spies,” she said insistently. “Patrian ones, Matrian ones—it doesn’t matter. You’ll say anything to try to stop us.”

I heard something from the doorway, and I was surprised to see that it was Tim. He pushed past Violet, then Owen and myself, his eyes twin silver flames of determination. I knew that look by now. It meant something big was about to happen.

“Not spy,” he growled at her, and Amber took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise. “Desmond bad—wants to use us boys. Like puppets.” The last word he spat, as if saying it left a disgusting taste in his mouth. “You help her… you’re bad too.”

Henrik looked at Tim, and then back to Amber. Suddenly, Ms. Dale called out from her small room. “I don’t know what’s happening on your end, but someone’s trying to get through in here,” she said. “Can they make them stand down? They better, or I’ll fire through the door.”

I turned to relay the message to Henrik, only to discover Henrik had heard most of it, judging by the disapproving way he was looking at Amber. “You ordered Quinn to continue with the mission?” he barked, and Amber flinched, but didn’t look apologetic in the slightest.

“It’s the mission,” she retorted defensively, and he shook his head. I watched him press a thin black fabric to his neck and mouth a few words through the subvocalizer. I couldn’t hear anything—it was a function of the subvocalizers—but I understood the gist of it. He was ordering Quinn to stand down.

I looked inside the room. Violet had moved over to the broken window, her head cocked as she listened. I could hear the faint thump of whatever was on the other side suddenly stop, doubling the silence that surrounded us in the chambers. Violet looked back at me and nodded, her face tense. Then she deliberately tapped her watch, a reminder that time was not on our side.

“What is the mission?” asked Owen.

“Kill the king,” Amber responded archly, and Owen shook his head.

“What is our mission, as Liberators?” he said.

I grunted, torn between interrupting Owen to remind him that time was short, and hoping that this would be the moment he could get Amber to see reason. I didn’t want to shoot her, not if I didn’t have to.

Amber’s eyes were malevolent as she sneered at him. “Kill any man who tries to tell me what to do,” she stated, giving Owen a daring look.

Owen tsked, and lowered his arm, resting his hand on his hips. “Okay, one—ouch. Not trying to tell you what to do, just trying to give you information so you can reach your own conclusion. Two—Amber, you’re being purposefully obtuse. It’s not like you. Our mission was to find the boys, liberate them from Matrian control, and overthrow the government for lying to us for so many years.”

“So?” Amber snapped back.

“So how does killing King Maxen accomplish any of that?”

Silence met his question, and I jumped on it, not waiting to see whether Owen’s logic had its intended effect.

“We need to go,” I announced, and Amber bristled. I ignored it, turning my head to look at Henrik. “The king’s backup is certainly on its way.”

Henrik considered me for several seconds and then looked back at Amber, who was frowning at him with increasing consternation. His mouth pursed under his well-maintained gray and white beard.

“It’s up to you,” he finally said, and I felt a flare of irritation that he was giving the decision back to the woman who clearly wasn’t interested in hearing the truth.

Amber chewed on her lower lip, staring at us. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling both longer and shorter than the last. When she finally spoke, I was on the verge of marching everyone out and leaving the indecisive behind.

“Bring the king,” she said finally. “We’ll hear you out in a safer location—if we believe you, we’ll let him live. If not… well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I ignored her barely concealed threat and nodded. “We need to get out of the city. Let’s get back to the truck and see if we can use it to get out of here.”

Without waiting to see whether anybody would act on my instructions, I walked back into