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

Even though the government had placed the blame for that on a woman. And Matrians thought Patrian society was backwards… Well, okay, I’d long since recognized that both societies were backwards as hell. But it was still uncomfortable to think I had been subjected to extra scrutiny simply for being a man.

Beside me, Violet nodded, parsing the new information. “Desmond would have known the wardens put a tracker on Viggo when he was arrested. So maybe she just took advantage. That sounds like her.”

I considered these things. I felt better for the conversation—it meant that Desmond and Elena weren’t all-powerful strategists, as I’d almost begun to fear—merely brilliant women with many resources at their command. We could work with that. We could fight against that.

I stood there for a moment, and then sighed. “Thanks for your input, everyone,” I said. “At least we know that we’ve finally thwarted those plans. Now let’s gather everyone up for a meeting—we need to discuss our next move.”

Within minutes, the ten of us were gathered in my small living room, every available seat-like space taken up and then some.

“All right,” I said, clapping my hands together and cutting through the side conversations that were being whispered all around us. “We need to discuss our next steps. This place is not going to be secure for much longer. You can bet that Desmond and Elena haven’t forgotten about us, and they still need the king dead for her plan to be the most effective. So… we need a place to go, and we’re going to need to start collecting supplies—more than just food, but also weapons and vehicles. Thoughts?”

King Maxen furrowed his brow, smoothing his goatee with a hand. “I’m not sure what to suggest, to be honest. Several of the bombing locations they talked about on the ticker report were clearly targeting my military leaders and advisors, so it’s clear that we can’t rely on them.”

I was surprised at how his attitude had shifted from intractable to helpful in such a short time, but decided it wasn’t worth it to question it. I looked around the room, focusing on the Liberators.

“Are there any locations you might have that Desmond might not know about? Maybe Thomas?”

Owen shook his head. “I haven’t heard from Thomas since we last communicated. It’s… I’m concerned.”

Amber gave a deep, controlled exhale, her eyes closed for a moment, as though making a decision. “I know a place,” she suddenly said, and I cocked my head.

“Amber’s from Patrus,” Violet reminded me. My curiosity as to how she could know a place over here must have shown on my face. Violet could read me well.

“Is it secure?” I asked.

Amber’s answer was a tight grimace. “Oh, it’s secure,” she responded dryly, sending my hackles up. She must have sensed it, because her grimace deepened. “It’s suited for what you need, it’s just not a place I ever expected to go back to. It’s my mother and father’s house in the countryside. It’s practically a fortress.”

I wanted to question her more on it, but I could tell that was all she was willing to say. I looked at Violet to gauge her thoughts on the matter, and after a pensive moment, she nodded.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s take everything we can—food, water, and weapons—then get the hell out of here. Henrik, you’re in charge of covering our tracks—if they come up here to search, we can at least confuse them a little. We’ll figure out the rest when we get there.”

15

Violet

I watched Owen like a hawk as he drove, taking mental notes of everything he did to control the vehicle. I had never driven before, and it was becoming apparent to me that it was another skill I was going to have to learn. The day had clouded over in the early afternoon; the mountains looked wild but peaceful as we rattled and rolled down the narrow lanes toward civilization—or what was left of it. I couldn’t help but feel regret at leaving Viggo’s cabin. It had always felt like a place of safety to me. But maybe if we never looked back, our enemies would overlook it, and it would still be there to welcome us when this whole thing was over. When, not if. I was clinging to Viggo’s optimism.

Owen, Amber, and I were piled into the cab of the smugglers’ truck. Ms. Dale, Henrik, Quinn, Jay, and the king sat in the back, shaded from view somewhat by the tarp that still covered most of the bed. Samuel snuggled against my lap, and Viggo and Tim rode somewhere behind us, following on Viggo’s motorcycle. He had offered to take me, but I needed to talk to Owen and Amber in depth.

Besides, I had noticed the way Tim’s eyes had widened in eagerness when he saw the motorcycle. It was hard to think of him as sixteen now, but he was, and I could tell he desperately wanted to ride it. Which was why I had insisted that Viggo take him—and Tim had insisted too, even conveying to me that he could handle sitting next to another person for a whole trip. It was a small sacrifice, worth it all to see my brother’s jubilant smile.

After we’d driven for about three hours, leaving the mountains and the city behind and finding ourselves in wide, flat farmlands, I could tell by Amber’s terse silence that we were getting closer. That was a concern, but there was a bigger one that had started gnawing at me back at Viggo’s place—namely, the remaining Liberators. They were surely in danger from Desmond—she would either continually use them to further Elena’s aims or just have them killed once they had served their purpose. I needed to know what Amber and Owen’s thoughts were.

“Hey, Owen?” I asked, breaking the near-silence of the cab. “What are you going to do with the Liberators now?”

Owen glanced briefly over at