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

loosened me from the table before grabbing hold of me. The tallest man—the runaway—hauled me over his shoulder, dangling me upside down, while a second man grabbed my wrists and held them tightly together. That didn't stop me from thrashing my legs. As they carried me out of the dank room and up a flight of grimy stairs, the man holding my wrists connected his knee with my face, sending my head into another tailspin.

I could no longer keep track of where we were going or who was around me. All I knew was that their route was dark and bumpy, and then the air suddenly became a lot colder. A chill wind caused my skin to break out in goosebumps. We were outside.

I caught the glare of headlights to our right, and a loud roaring noise in the distance. Then came gunshots. We reached some kind of vehicle and I was shoved into a spacious trunk and locked inside.

I had no idea how much time had passed since I had been kidnapped. But the man had said that the wardens' arrival was quick. I had no idea how the "wardens" had managed to locate me so quickly, given that Porteque was supposed to be tucked away in the depths of the mountains—somewhere even Viggo seemed hesitant to enter.

I was rolled from side to side as the vehicle picked up speed, in spite of the hard bumps in whatever road—or track—we were following. I tried to grab hold of something to avoid more injury, but soon we were traveling so fast, the bumps so wild, it was impossible to avoid getting banged about.

What's going on?

Where are they taking me?

The ground tilted in a slope. I rolled to the other side of the trunk. My stomach dropped. We were going downhill. Fast.

The gunshots grew louder behind us.

The base of the vehicle vibrated, then we shuddered to a stop that sent the back of my head smashing against the trunk's side wall.

The truck bobbed as people climbed out, unloading it of weight, and then the trunk opened. Two hands shot inside and grabbed me, yanking me out, and my feet sank into shallow water. We were in the dip of a wooded area and, as I gazed around wildly, I noticed we were surrounded by a crowd of men—and one woman—and five trucks. I gazed up at the slope we had just descended. Its steepness made me feel nauseated. The gunshots echoing down came from somewhere near the top.

The man, whom I realized was the same coward who had run away, tugged on me, pulling me through the water as everyone else began to cross the stream.

I wouldn't let them drag me further.

The man must've thought that I was too weak to put up much of a fight now. My nose had started bleeding again, and my brain was clouded, but desperation had a way of making you find strength you thought you'd lost.

I dropped all of my weight downward, my backside hitting the rocky bed of the stream. My wrist slipped from the man's grasp and I lurched for his knees, toppling him backward into the water. As he landed, his right hand instantly moved to his knife. But I had already predicted that.

I slid the blade out of its sheath and without a second's hesitation slashed his throat in a fit of fury. His blood drenched my hands and arms and flowed around me as I fought to stand up… only to be instantly struck by a vicious blow to the back of my head. The jolt caused my grip around the knife to slacken and it flew from my hands as I tripped. The upper half of me fell on land, but my legs and feet still trailed in the water.

I cried out as a foot stamped down on my back. Then hands gripped my neck, fingers gouging into my throat. With whatever renewed energy I'd managed to summon rapidly ebbing away, I fumbled around on the ground, searching for a sharp rock. Discovering a stone that felt jagged enough to cut skin, I raised my arms and pressed down hard against the man's hands with one palm, while using the other hand to rip sharply with the pointed tip of the stone where I estimated his wrist was.

Wherever I'd managed to strike, it worked. His hold on me loosened enough for me to gasp for air. I twisted myself around, only to see my latest attacker joined by five other men. They weren't going to mess around this time. They knew it. I knew it. The deprivation of oxygen had made me too weak to stand up anymore. I couldn’t even attempt to continue defending myself.

As the closest man leapt for me, all I could think to do was curl myself up in a ball, as if that would somehow soften the pain of the impact.

His full weight crashed down on me, knocking my head back.

But I did not feel the tip of the knife or slash of the blade.

No. All I felt was his crushing weight.

I managed to slither out from beneath him and glanced up to see the other men had stopped in their tracks. Not just stopped, but they were beginning to scatter, racing across the stream and into the woods on the other side.

That was when I realized why the man on top of me had become so… motionless. As I slid out from under him completely, his face thunked against the ground. At the back of his head was a round, bloody bullet hole.

I scrambled backward and tried to stand up, but I felt too dizzy. When I looked toward the slope where the bullet must have come from, my eyes found a tall figure running toward me through the trees. With the silhouette of a long gun in his right hand, his outline was familiar, even in the darkness. Wavy hair. The straight shape of a trench coat.

I almost cried out in