The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer. I was behaving coldly, prioritizing our lives as more important than hers. I had decided that she was the “them” in “us versus them”, and that her life was expendable.

In that moment, I was suddenly grateful to Violet. Compassion burned in her like a beacon, and I couldn’t help but be attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Since my wife had died, I had cut off almost everyone I had known. It was easier that way—easier not to feel. How misguided I was: The feelings didn’t go away. I had just buried them under a veneer of calm. I had become so distanced from humanity, so apart from it, that I had forgotten that life was precious.

It didn’t mean I was going to trust the older brunette lying on the ground. It just meant that I was going to do my best to help her.

I nodded to Violet and began passing her what she needed. She applied the cotton bandage, but blood was quickly seeping through it. I wrapped a piece of blue fabric around the cotton, and then applied the patch to help her replenish blood.

Afterward, I took a moment to inspect Violet’s hands. They were scraped up. I made her open and close them a few times. They weren’t broken. I also took a moment to inspect her thigh.

“We’ll probably be able to take the bandage off in another day or two,” I said, as she pulled her pants back over her hip. She nodded. She’d been pretty quiet throughout the entire ordeal. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, her gaze on Ms. Dale’s unconscious form. She looked pensive, like she was thinking about something.

“What is it?”

“Why her?” she asked, nodding her head to indicate Ms. Dale.

“I don’t understand.”

“She’s not a warden. She’s just a self-defense teacher. So why did they send her to find me?” She reached down, gripping the egg with both hands and pulling it out of my bag. “Viggo… we need to figure out what this thing is, and why everyone wants it.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. That was a tall order, considering that we had no idea where to begin. Not to mention, it would likely require us to go to Matrus, a place that wasn’t exactly welcoming to people like me.

Violet turned to look up at me, her gray eyes searching mine for an answer. Before I could respond to her, Samuel gave a warning bark.

I looked at him, and his body was tense, his ears up. He gave another bark, looking at us, practically vibrating with energy. I could tell that he was on the verge of bolting, but resisting that urge so he could warn us. Violet and I started to pull out our weapons, when I heard something else...

A high pitched sound was permeating through the trees and into the clearing. It was so faint at first that it was hard to hear, but it grew, until the buzzing was a roar in our ears.

Violet and I exchanged glances, and looked down at ourselves. We were covered in blood, and Ms. Dale was still bleeding. There was no way we had escaped the incoming predators’ notice.

Without uttering a word, we began gathering our things, urgency lending speed to us. I hauled Ms. Dale over one shoulder, while Violet shouldered my bag. She pressed one aerosol can in my hand, and pulled the two remaining ones out of her pocket.

“Run,” she whispered urgently, and together, we started running, knowing that the red flies were not far behind.

18

Violet

As we fled, I couldn’t help but think about Viggo’s assumption regarding Ms. Dale. There was no other explanation for it. She was there for me, to collect me and bring me back to Matrus. I knew what would happen from there: I’d be convicted of regicide. It didn’t matter how much evidence I provided to prove that Lee was the killer. He was dead, which meant no one could exact revenge upon him.

Yet, as far as I knew, Ms. Dale was just a defense teacher. Every year, she would recommend her best students for training with the wardens, some would be accepted, some wouldn’t. That was it. She’d lived in the same neighborhood as I did, went to the same stores, did the same chores. She didn’t have kids, which was not uncommon for some women—they chose their careers over children—and I had never seen her in any type of relationship with anyone outside the parents and students.

So why would they send her? Was it because she knew me? Or was she more deeply involved than I had thought? I contemplated all of these questions as I watched her bouncing on Viggo’s shoulder. I knew it was unlikely that I would ever get all the answers I craved, but I couldn’t help but ask them.

I felt like a fly trapped in a massive web, but I could only see a few of the strands that had trapped me. I kept trying to escape so I could see more, but I was caught too tightly, and the spider was settling in over me, about to devour me. Everything that kept happening to me reminded me that a noose was waiting for me, and it seemed like I would never escape.

Although, being in The Green also reminded me that sometimes things just happen. There were things that I could control, and things that I couldn’t. It was a waste of energy to worry about the questions, especially with death constantly waiting.

I knew that this was one of those things that we couldn’t survive. The swarm of flies were drawn to blood, like bees to pollen. Viggo and I were covered in it, thanks to my insistence on helping Ms. Dale. In spite of our help, her wound was still seeping blood—I could see it dripping on the ground behind us.

As long as she bled, the