The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

around Marina, hauling her back off me. She was screaming, struggling against him, but he held her fast.

I frowned, baffled at how he was holding his own against her. I watched Marina’s feet kicking out, scrambling for purchase, but Tim kept a firm grip on her. She planted an elbow into his ribs, and he grunted, but maintained his stance.

The gun. Turning, I began crawling toward the other side of the room. Viggo’s pool of blood caught my eye and as I looked over at him, his face had become even paler, his breathing shallower. The sight caused a surge of energy to propel me, but then Tim gave another grunt, and I whirled.

Marina had her hand around his throat.

His legs were dangling.

I forced myself to my feet and took a step toward them, intent on clawing her eyes out if I had to, when he planted a foot against her chest.

I gaped as he grabbed her forearm with his hands and pushed hard with his leg. Marina’s grip on his throat slipped, and she stumbled back. Tim landed lightly on his feet, his breathing heavy. The two sized each other up for a long second, taking careful steps in a semi-circle around each other.

Heart in my throat, I took a step forward intent on intervening, but Tim threw his hand up behind him, stopping me.

The tension between the two of them stretched out, like a rubber band being pulled too tightly, and then they snapped into motion, the two of them slugging it out with fists and knees.

Marina’s damaged arm dangled uselessly at her side while she fought my brother one-handed. However, Tim was clearly not schooled in martial arts—his punches were poorly timed and aimed.

The sound of their fists on each other’s flesh filled the room. I turned toward the gun, intent on retrieving it so I’d be ready to fire in case Marina got the upper hand… but as my eyes darted across the room, it had vanished.

Panic rose in my chest, and before my brain could even make sense of its absence, a loud crack sounded behind me. I twisted to see that Tim had landed a punch on Marina’s face. She staggered backward, blood spilling from her mouth. She spat it out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“So, you’re one of Mr. Jenks’ little toys,” she smirked. She rotated her good shoulder as she stalked around Tim. He watched her warily, his face bruised. Marina paused in her march, sizing him up. “I’m one of the originals,” she announced, a sadistic glow lighting in her eyes.

With that, she launched herself at Tim, catching him by surprise and tackling him at the waist. She landed on top of him and began punching him in the face.

A rush of rage clouding my mind, raw instinct took over and I leapt onto her back with a shriek, wrapping my legs around her waist. I bound my arm around her neck, locking my other hand around my wrist, and began to squeeze.

She pushed up on her feet and began shifting me from side to side, like a dog shedding water from its fur, but I held on tight, applying more pressure to her windpipe. I felt a stab of satisfaction as she gasped in response to me cutting off her air.

She staggered back a few steps and I held on fast.

I hadn’t been paying attention to my surroundings, however, and she slammed me into a wall, hard enough that I lost my grip.

I reacted, but not fast enough, and the back of my head impacted the concrete. Blinding pain rushed in. I couldn’t catch my breath, and was instantly nauseas as wave after wave of pain surged through me.

When I could finally open my eyes, I looked around. Marina was standing over my brother, hauling him up on his knees. She grabbed his chin, studying his face.

He gave a groan, and I stretched out my hand. “Don’t,” I gasped, as I tried to move toward them. Dizziness assaulted me, and I couldn’t seem to find the strength in my limbs to make them do what I wanted.

Marina looked over at me, and grinned sinisterly. “Is this your brother?” she asked, her voice laced with wonder and excitement.

I clenched my jaw. “Don’t hurt him. I killed your sister. Me. Not him. Leave him alone.”

She chuckled as she caressed the side of his face. He flinched away, but she grabbed him by the back of the neck, holding him tight. “Oh no, no, no,” she tsked. “This is just too perfect.”

I groaned, and managed to make it to my side. “Please,” I begged.

Her laughter rang out, bitter and filled with the promise of pain. “You took my sister,” she hissed. “It’s only fitting that I take your brother.”

I cried out in protest and watched in horror as she sauntered around Tim, until she was behind him. Lazily, she placed her hands on his head, one on the back of his neck, the other snaking around under his jaw, gripping the other side. I knew the hold—it was for breaking necks, and felt a scream building up in my throat.

“Say goodbye, Violet,” she taunted, her eyes burning deeply into mine.

I looked at Tim, who was staring at me, tears in his eyes. I reached for him, trying to find the power to move, to stop her, when a gunshot rang out.

Marina’s eyes widened, and she slumped onto her knees, blood trickling out from the still smoking bullet hole in her forehead.

Looking toward where the noise had emanated, I gaped at Ms. Dale who was braced against the counter, the still smoking gun in her good hand. Blood was trickling from a gash on the side of her head, matting her brown hair to her forehead.

She relaxed her arm and tossed the gun on the counter, leaning heavily against it.

Tim crawled over to me, and curled up against me, his body trembling. I sat there, stroking his hair, too numb