The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (top 5 books to read .TXT) 📗

and time to process, the news never seemed to stop rolling in. Hopefully, however, these developments would mean we were growing closer to achieving something, possibly even striking a blow to Desmond and Elena. One that would make them bleed. It wouldn’t make up for Ian… but it might be a start on keeping other boys from the same fate.

“Is everybody already in there?” I asked.

Ms. Dale nodded, brushing some hair away from her face. “Yes. We’re waiting on you.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

I started to move, but Violet reached out her left hand and grabbed mine, the grip awkward, yet strong. Turning, I noted the concern in her eyes and the questioning tilt of her eyebrows.

“I’m fine,” I tried to assure her, but the words were a lie. I could tell by her face she didn’t believe me, but she nodded and then moved forward, wrapping her arm around mine and leaning into me.

Together, we headed back toward the house.

29

Violet

The group of us had gathered in the den, the animal heads on the walls watching with glassy stares as Thomas jacked the handheld into one of the giant screens we had taken from Ashabee’s manor.

I checked my watch, noting we had just under eight minutes to discuss what to do with the boy we had taken from Desmond.

“How is he?” Viggo asked, breaking the still air.

“Dr. Arlan says he’s still unconscious,” replied Ms. Dale, dropping a folder on the table we stood around. “A possible side effect to either the energy he expended last night, or withdrawal from the Benuxupane. The question is what to do with him when he wakes up.”

“What do you mean, what to do with him?” demanded Owen, his tone biting.

Ms. Dale blinked, her brows drawing down slightly as she regarded Owen, concern etched into the fine lines of her face. “What I mean, Mr. Barns, is do we keep him here, or move him to our other hideout, where we are holding Maxen?”

Owen looked away, his jaw tightening slightly at her stiff rebuff.

“He’s in the barn now?” I asked in the awkward silence, earning a small nod from Ms. Dale.

“Indeed. We’ve managed to cobble together a bed and secured him in the loft. It’s mostly dry up there, but it won’t do for much longer, now that the weather is changing.”

Scratching a spot on her neck, Amber frowned. “Well, obviously we should move him away from the camp. Who knows what effects the withdrawal might have? He may only have enhanced speed, but he is still capable of hurting people, especially when moving fast enough. We can’t risk the safety of the fifty or so people here.”

I frowned. Logically, I agreed with her, but emotionally? I found the idea distasteful. Cody was already a victim of a despot who was indifferent to his very survival. He’d been cruelly treated, filled with drugs, and made to commit atrocities. He was just a child—what he needed right now was a little compassion.

“I think he should stay,” I said abruptly, earning me the attention of everyone in the room. I met their gazes levelly, my head high. “He needs to know we are all on his side, rooting for him, believing in him. That we… we don’t want to give him drugs to control him; we don’t even want to control him. We just want him to be safe and healthy. We want to take care of him. We have the best people here who can help him. Dr. Tierney knows more about enhanced humans than anyone. She can monitor his progress, noting how the withdrawals are, if any, and just keeping an eye on his health.”

“You mentioned more than one person,” Viggo said softly, next to me.

Licking my lips, I nodded. “Jay,” I announced. “Think about it—he’s the best one to help him, and he can certainly handle his outbursts physically. But best of all, he and Cody share the same trauma. They both come from the same place. If Jay can just show Cody there is another way, maybe even a better one… then maybe it’ll go a long way in undoing what they have done to him.”

The hush in the room seemed loud in my ears, and I suddenly realized how passionate I had gotten in my speech. I shot a furtive glance at Viggo, who was staring at me, one eyebrow raised. He looked impressed.

Ms. Dale coughed politely, drawing my attention. “Well said, Violet,” she said. “I think with an argument like that, there’s no need for rebuttal.”

The room was silent, nobody objecting, and Ms. Dale burst out in a smile. “Great! Now, it’s about time we were checking in with Jeff. Thomas?”

“One second,” Thomas said, moving over to the handheld he had attached to one of the larger screens. He pressed a few buttons and then moved back.

Jeff’s face filled the screen, looking down on our weary command group.

“Ah, good!” he exclaimed. “Well, not good, considering the circumstances. Owen, please, I hope you’ll accept my deepest condolences regarding your loss. Words cannot even begin to express how much sorrow I feel on your behalf.”

Owen was standing slightly behind the rest of the group, his eyes still red-rimmed and bloodshot. He looked up at Jeff and nodded robotically. “Thank you, Jeff,” he said hoarsely. “It means a lot to me.”

“Sir, I’m sure it’s lost in the grand scope of your suffering and loss. To that end, I thank you for your politeness. If there is anything you should need, please feel free to reach out to me.”

For some reason, Jeff’s graceful handling of the situation, and the acknowledgement that he knew Owen was merely being polite in accepting, seemed to make the corner of Owen’s mouth tip up slightly. Not much—only a fraction of an inch—but I couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope that our Owen was still in there, somewhere. He just needed time.

Slipping my left hand into Viggo’s, I squeezed.

“Jeff,” said Ms. Dale. “What do