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

Her gasp became a gurgle as she clutched her throat, blood spilling out over her fingers. I cursed under my breath and pulled the trigger again, the next bullet stilling her mounting panic. I had blocked off the part of my brain that felt regret or sadness, but I still recognized, almost robotically, that her death would linger.

Bullets whizzed around me as a warden—perhaps more than one—suddenly came around the corner, unloading their magazines in my direction. If they were screaming their outrage at me, I couldn’t hear it over the sound of gunfire. The entire house was alive with the earsplitting pop-pop-pop. I ducked, then brought my gun up and returned fire, my bullets sinking through the unprepared group of wardens, to deadly effect.

I heard a horrifying roar, then screams and crashing, as I was changing out the magazine. I froze, wondering if one of the Matrians had thrown a grenade elsewhere in the house. I peeked my head around the corner, a little lower down, in case someone had their gun trained on the spot I had withdrawn from earlier, and jerked back quickly when a large figure raced by.

There were two women left in the group that had been trying to gain access to my stairs. As I ducked again, I heard them cry out in alarm, and then came a short burst of gunfire. A loud snarl cut beneath the shots, piercing my carefully constructed indifference with a thin thread of fear. Then came the sound of screaming—a long, terrified sound—viciously cut short by the clear snapping of bones.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that silence reigned—the house was still too alive with gunfire, some of it clearly coming from Violet’s side of the house—but, directly below me, it had gone as eerily silent as a cemetery. I kept perfectly still, uncertain as to what was lurking below me. I heard harsh, wrangled breathing from below. The sound of sniffing followed, then heavy, lumbering footsteps heading off in a different direction, avoiding me altogether.

I exhaled the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding, and used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat from my forehead. I stepped out from behind the corner, going into a quick squat so I could survey more of the lower level, my eyes darting in and out of the shadows in search of… whatever it was that had torn through two armed women. Just as I had convinced myself that it was gone, I heard horrified screaming coming from Violet’s stairwell—screaming that was now familiar to me.

I took a step toward the area, knowing that several layers of rooms stood between us and that I couldn’t abandon my post, and froze, listening. I thought I had heard my name, but it was hard to tell with the echoed sounds of shouting and fighting from the other parts of the house. I frowned, and strained, clasping my gun in now-clammy hands.

I heard it again—a muted, barely audible cry. It was Violet. I knew it with the same certainty that that I had killed three women and stood by while Solomon tore another two apart. I looked back at the staircase with a curse. It wasn’t even a decision on my part. I had already slung my rifle behind my back, clutching the strap to hold it tight, and moved toward her voice.

I pulled my pistol out and started moving faster. I was nearing the end of the hall when I heard the sound of running feet—two sets, to be precise. One of them was light, barely registering on the carpeted floor. The other one was clearly larger, thudding hard and echoing. I pressed my back against the wall and looked toward the next hall to see Violet slip around the corner, ducking in time to avoid getting hit by a table that flew over her head, smashing into pieces as it made impact with the wall.

She continued moving, catching her feet under her, nearly twenty feet away from me. I stepped out, pulling my gun.

Violet saw my intent as she raced toward me and shook her head, her eyes widening. “Viggo! Don’t shoot! It’s Solomon!” she shouted as she raced toward me.

The large man stepped into this hall from the adjoining one. Violet was almost to me now, and he paused, watching her run. I tightened my finger on the trigger, knowing full well I could stop his misery here and now. It might even be merciful.

But I couldn’t do it—this was not his natural state, and that wasn’t his fault. From what Violet had told me about him, Solomon was an exceptionally kind, brave and gentle man, and I owed him for saving not only Violet’s life, but mine. If he hadn’t selflessly volunteered to help retrieve the laser that cured me, he wouldn’t be in this mess. I would kill him if I thought I couldn’t stop him from killing Violet or myself, but that time hadn’t come. Yet.

I whirled and grabbed Violet’s hand, pulling her behind me, back down the hall toward my stairs. She followed, her shorter legs moving faster than mine so she could keep pace.

Behind us, we heard his horrible, bellowing roar—predatory and furious—followed by the deep thuds of his feet pounding on the floor, chasing after us.

I pushed Violet ahead of me, determined to keep her safe, as we rounded the corner that led to my stairwell. She was steps ahead of me, one hand on the railing, using it to keep her feet under her as she rounded the sharp corner and flew down the steps.

I was right behind her when Solomon emerged from the hall. He took one look at me and roared, spittle flying everywhere. He launched himself at me, and I ducked. My eyes widened as he flew completely over me and hit the wall, headfirst, hard enough to make it shudder.

He slid down, and I moved, barely able to get out of his way as