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

in joy and exhilaration, and in that moment, I envied her ability to enjoy heights.

I felt the impact as we hit the ground just as I reached thirty-seven seconds and opened my eyes to make sure we had landed.

I leapt off Solomon’s back and moved a few more feet away, putting as much distance as I could between myself and the cliff face. We had made it to the other side effortlessly, but I was not exactly okay with how.

“I hate you,” I said to Owen, who laughed.

The others laughed too, but it didn’t feel like they were laughing at me. Quinn and Amber patted me on the shoulder, and Solomon shot me a grin. I crossed my arms and glared, but the truth was, it was nice having a team to work with. They made up for my shortcomings, namely the intense fear of heights I had developed recently, and I was truly enjoying being around them.

It had been so long since I had worked with a group of individuals like this that it actually felt like I had friends. It was a nice feeling after being on the run and in prison for so long—yet I knew I had to keep my eyes on the goal.

Viggo was my only reason for being out here with them.

The group quickly reorganized their packs, pulling out their handheld weapons. I kept a look out, as I was the only one with a weapon available, until they were ready. Once they were, Owen took point again and led us deeper into the trees.

About an hour later, I became aware of the sound of the river. Perking up, I went on my tiptoes to see if I could catch a glimpse of it. I was excited to see what Owen had in store.

We broke through another copse of trees and suddenly, the river was there. We lined up next to it, and I stared at the massive body of water churning in front of us. The water was an unnaturally brilliant blue—a hue so deep and bright that it almost matched Owen’s eyes. Like the earth of the cliff face that we had swung over, the shade looked artificial, and vibrantly different than further downriver by Matrus. There, it was a deep brown, almost muddy.

“It looks so different,” I said.

“That’s because it’s ten times as potent here,” Owen replied. “It becomes more diluted as it moves downstream.”

“What really makes it so toxic here?” I asked.

“The Green,” replied Amber, moving closer. “Whatever is in The Green gets flushed into the river and is carried downstream for miles and miles.”

I nodded, absorbing the information. “So, what if one of us falls in?”

“Don’t,” replied Owen, pulling a lantern out of his bag. He clicked a button and a red light began to shine from it. He slid the lantern’s hoop over a tree branch and then leaned against the connecting tree trunk, his arms crossed.

I watched him curiously. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Ordering a taxi,” he replied blithely.

Just then, a shout came from the water. I turned, my hand sliding to my gun. Owen placed his hand over mine and shook his head. “Don’t shoot our ride, Violet.”

I relaxed my hand and he let go. I narrowed my eyes, gazing out at the river. The mist over the water hung thick and glowed a slight blue, illuminated by the liquid flowing beneath it. I watched the mist as it roiled and writhed, when suddenly the bow of a ship slipped out of it.

The ship wasn’t big—maybe thirty to forty feet long—and there was one lone man standing at the helm, his white hair sticking out from under a cap which was precariously perched on his head. Owen held up a hand in greeting, and the man raised one in return.

Quinn waved an arm and gave a small yell as the ship drifted closer, cutting a path through the churning water. The man on the boat was swinging something over his head, and I had just begun to realize it was a rope when he released it, angling it toward Quinn. Quinn caught it and quickly tied it to the tree next to him, wrapping it around the trunk. Amber was in the process of catching the other line, about twenty feet upstream from Quinn. She too, tied the rope to a tree.

The water behind the engine churned as the man on the boat revved the engine, bringing the vessel closer to the bank.

“Violet, why don’t you come on board—I’ll introduce you to Alejandro,” Owen chirped.

Dazed at the coordination and planning—as well as a large boat appearing in The Green—I followed Owen down to the shore, eager to meet the man crazy enough to travel so far up Veil River.

4

Violet

The boat churned downriver at a frightful pace, but nobody seemed concerned about the speed we were moving at, especially not Alejandro, the elderly man who owned and piloted the boat.

We had been cruising for several hours, and Owen had said that it would take many hours more to reach our extraction point. I had spent more than a few of those hours repacking my bag, but after a while, boredom set in, and I found myself wanting to talk to Alejandro.

Before we boarded the boat, Owen had pulled me aside and told me that Alejandro was not a part of the cause, so we had to be cautious about what we said to him. As far as Alejandro knew, the five of us were a research team, collecting specimens for study.

Now that we were on the boat, I found that I liked Alejandro. The rest of the group seemed perfectly content to ignore him, but I was fascinated by the old man. For one thing, he loved to talk—his voice constantly filled the air. Whether it was a narration of what he was doing or holding one-sided conversations with us, he was constantly chatting.

For another thing, there was a fierce intelligence burning