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

After we were done, I took a step back to look at our handiwork. It was sloppy and rushed, but for the short walk to Alejandro’s boat, it would have to do.

I looked at Owen. “Do it,” I said, and he placed the adrenaline patch on her chest, just under the neckline, so that her clothes and uniform would hide it.

Almost immediately, her eyes opened and she gave a gasp as she sat up, her hand gripping her side. She gazed at us groggily. “Where are we?” she slurred.

“We’re almost at the dock, Amber,” said Quinn soothingly, moving a few feet closer.

She dragged her gaze over to him and nodded, swallowing hard. “I feel awful,” she said, as we helped her to her feet.

“Yeah, and you look it, too,” I replied, quickly moving to pull on my own costume. Like Amber, I was going without the padding—it took too long to get on and we would be long gone before the wardens showed up, if things went according to plan.

Quinn moved over to the ladder, his own street clothes already on. “I’ll go up first to check if it’s clear.”

Owen nodded, his fingers flying over his shirt as he buttoned it up. “We’ll be good to go in three, right, Violet?”

I nodded absent-mindedly, fumbling with the front of my shirt.

Quinn quickly ascended as Amber wobbled to her feet.

“For the record, guys,” she croaked, “don’t ever get shot. It sucks.”

Suddenly she doubled over and began retching. There was a sickening sound of liquid hitting liquid, and I flinched. I had been in her shoes before—not with a gunshot wound, but when I had been bitten by a black centipede.

I gave up on my buttons halfway down and pulled on my coat, hastily fastening it at the waist. I smoothed down my hair and pulled the wig on, slipping a few pins in it to keep it secure. Applying the glue for the goatee without a mirror was difficult, but somehow I managed, although I could feel the glue drying in places that the fake hair didn’t touch.

We couldn’t use our invisibility suits, but now I wished we could. Well, technically two of us could—but Amber’s, Solomon’s, and mine had been damaged and wouldn’t function now that the fabric was torn. So, we had decided on a ruse to get to the docks. Besides, Amber was in no condition to try to operate a suit. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Owen was already helping Amber to the ladder. His handheld chirped, and he pulled Amber close, letting her use his body as a stabilizer while he held up his forearm to check it. “Quinn says it’s clear,” he told us, pulling Amber upright.

She coughed and gasped as he did, but nodded weakly. “Great—the sooner I can lie down, the better,” she said, giving us a small smile that didn’t remotely break past the pain clouding her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Owen grunted, as he placed her hands on the ladder. “We’ll get you there. And if you want to get there faster, you climb and don’t stop. I’ll be right behind you.”

I tossed Owen’s bag to him, which he caught one-handed, and slung my own over my shoulder.

Amber groaned, clutching at the rungs of the ladder as she slowly ascended. I admired her tenacity, and only hoped that I could be as tough as her if I was ever shot and not just grazed.

Owen was moving close behind Amber, using his free hand to help hold her up as she moved from rung to rung. I bounced on my toes, waiting for them to move high enough up for me to start climbing.

Eventually, Amber and Owen made it to the top. Quinn helped pull Amber up, and I made my way the ladder. For the fifteen or twenty seconds it took me to climb, it had taken Amber and Owen five solid minutes, and I was becoming more nervous.

The sewer entrance was nestled in the middle of hastily constructed warehouses near the waterfront. This was the closest insertion point to our destination—we needed to weave through the tiny narrow alleys to reach the docks. Owen and Quinn had already hoisted Amber up between them, her arms on their shoulders. Owen was giving her some last-minute instructions, making her promise to keep from groaning too loudly in pain.

I grunted as I began pushing the manhole closed behind me. It took a minute for me to get it to move, but eventually I slid it over the hole and straightened. “I’ll lead,” I said, pulling out my handheld.

Owen nodded, his face strained. I pulled up the city map and studied it. It was mostly a straight shot, with only a few turns here and there. I nodded forward, and then began walking, moving toward the docks.

As we entered the main street, I motioned for them to stop, as throngs of people were shouting jubilantly and celebrating something. Frowning, I ducked back into the alley and turned to Owen. “There’s some sort of party going on,” I said.

Owen’s gaze turned thoughtful and then he groaned, lifting his free hand to his forehead. “We had planned to be gone already, but… it’s Foundation Day,” he said, meeting my gaze.

Of course—Foundation Day was the Patrian holiday celebrating the founding of their city.

“What do we do?” I asked, meeting Owen’s worried gaze.

His lips pursed. “We keep to the plan. We have to get Amber to the dock.”

I gulped, not feeling secure about the plan—there were a lot more people in the street, which increased the odds of us being discovered significantly. But I didn’t see a better option, so I nodded and moved back into the street.

Tension rolled through me as I began to push through the throngs of people. I kept my head down, avoiding any gazes that might be on me, and slowly wove a path through the milling crowd toward our destination.

16

Violet

My neck itched in response to