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

it at her head. Someone in the crowd screamed in warning, and Desmond whipped around, coming face to face with my gun.

My finger tensed on the trigger, and my heart hammered in my chest as I prepared to carry the weight of what I was about to do. Spill more blood. Claim another life.

A roar at the back of the crowd reverberated off the walls with such intensity that the clamor of the crowd was drowned out, causing voices to fall silent in unison. A pale white and dark blur leapt over the crowd, landing to a skidding stop in front of me.

As the dust settled, I found myself staring at one of the boys, who had put himself directly in front of my gun, standing between me and Desmond, his face contorted with anger and determination. People shifted as more boys began to pour through the door that I had passed through minutes ago. Several more came to stand between Desmond and me. The rest pressed in, forming a circle around us.

My hands shook as I took in the development. I heard a familiar cry of pain, and turned back in time to see my brother and Ms. Dale hauled unceremoniously into the circle around us. One of the boys tossed a squirming black bag in between them, and I heard a yip from Samuel.

Grimacing, I turned back to Desmond, who grinned at me, daring me to pull the trigger with the boys in the way.

Reluctantly, I lowered the gun and the second I did, the boys rushed at me, grabbing me and forcing me to the ground.

“My boys, please—be calm!” Desmond shrilled. “Let’s put that training to good use! Drag them all to the airlock, and let’s make a sport of it.”

Desmond’s announcement was met with a chorus of cheers, and I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to accept another failure on my part.

35

Viggo

The five of us—including Samuel—were hauled upstairs through the levels and marched out by several of the boys, with Desmond bringing up the rear, a self-satisfied bounce in her step. I did my best to ignore it, but it was hard to ignore the boys giving me sidelong glances with pain in their eyes.

They looked at me like they wanted to ask why I had betrayed them. As if I could give them an answer to something that wasn’t true.

It hurt that the boys hadn’t trusted me enough to question Desmond’s lies, even if they were being fed a drug. It hurt that they felt I had betrayed them. And at the center of all that hurt was Desmond—whatever she was planning, however she planned to achieve it, looking at those boys made me feel a rage that I had never known before.

I was supposed to be protecting them from people like her, yet I had missed what was going on. If I had been more attentive about what was happening under my nose, I probably could have done something to stop her.

As it was, I kept my mouth shut. I knew that no amount of reasoning with the boys would work now. From their point of view, Violet had pulled out her weapon first. That made her, as well as the rest of us, the aggressors. We were a threat, and we needed to be eliminated.

We reached the final set of stairs, and I felt a coldness in my gut, wondering what exactly Desmond had planned. Would she throw us out of the airlock without a mask, leave us to choke for breath and then suffocate from the toxic fumes of The Green?

No. She had mentioned something about the boys making a “sport” of this. That meant a fighting chance, if only a slim one. I needed to bide my time and see what she had planned. Depending on what it was, it might mean I died a few minutes sooner, fighting for all our lives.

Ahead of me, Violet marched forward, resolute. I felt a pang of sympathy for her—she probably wished she had pulled the trigger before the boys had arrived. As I thought about it, however, I realized that this might be better. Even with the training, the boys still had the potential for volatility, and shooting Desmond would have caused a strong reaction in them.

I realized now that my own rules for the boys would have backfired in a way, had Violet pulled the trigger. Most of them would’ve reacted, seen the others react, and then acted upon their instincts. In a single moment, I could’ve lost her, lost everything. I was grateful that she had decided to back down.

We were shoved unceremoniously into the antechamber. Most of the boys remained in the halls and stairwells—this floor wasn’t open enough to hold all of them. A few of the team leaders stood inside the room, glaring at us. Desmond pushed through the group of boys, placing gentle hands on their shoulders and whispering words of encouragement.

She stepped into the room and raked us with a gaze. “Change,” she ordered.

She must have sent for someone to bring regular clothes, because within seconds of her order, articles of clothing were passed up from the back. Desmond snatched them one by one, tossing them casually on the floor.

I ignored her as I bent over and grabbed the clothing. Tim, Ms. Dale and Violet weren’t wearing invisibility suits, so they had no need to change. I turned my back on them and began changing.

“So, Ms. Dale,” I said conversationally, as I stepped out of the suit. “How do you think Desmond’s going to kick this war off?”

There was a long pause behind me, and then Ms. Dale responded. “It’s… tough to say, Mr. Croft… Starting a war is not an easy business. It requires resources, timing, and careful consideration… Whatever it is, it has to be big.”

I nodded, sliding the pants over my hips and buttoning them quickly. “Like a bombing, maybe?” I asked, casting a quick