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

won out. I took a step forward. “What do you want from me, Ms. Bertrand?”

Desmond looked up at me, her blue eyes tired. “I’m not going to lie, Violet. I’m not a good person—I’ve never pretended to be—but what Matrus is doing is wrong. And I want to stop them. For good.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m talking about a rebellion. A real one. And I want your help.”

I scoffed, taking a step back again. “You can’t! They’re too strong. You have how many people?”

“More than you think,” she replied.

“Well they have more. They have weapons. They have supplies.”

She held out her hand toward the cubes, her voice dangerously low. “We have the very boys that they cast out.”

I stared at the cubes. “They’re broken,” I whispered, thinking of my brother. “Traumatized.”

“Then we’ll help them,” she replied simply.

“What do you expect me to do?”

She gave a great sigh, and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “Let me ask you this question. What are you willing to do? Go through the options, and you tell me which one is your best one.”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling lost. On the one hand, I hated Matrus. I wanted to see them pay for what they had done to my brother. To Viggo. On the other hand… the cost of waging a war would be high. Innocent civilians would suffer in any conflict. I wasn’t sure I could shoulder that burden.

“Can I… Can I think about it?” I asked.

Desmond nodded, releasing my shoulders. “Of course. You must be hungry. And I assume that you will want to check on your people. Owen?”

I nearly jumped three feet as Owen appeared out of nowhere, light dancing across the fabric of his suit until it faded to black.

“I’ll take her,” he said in a chipper voice, offering me an arm.

I gaped at him. “What the… How did you do that?”

He gave me a little smirk. “One of the tricks of the trade,” he said.

My mind suddenly made an intuitive leap. “You’re the thing that grabbed me in the forest,” I said.

Owen exchanged a look with Desmond. “I’ll explain everything, if you decide to join us,” said Desmond.

I looked at both of them, too overwhelmed to respond. “Just take me upstairs,” I replied, pivoting on my heel and heading back to the door as fast as possible. The room felt tight, like it was closing in. I needed to escape from there, and make sure Viggo and Tim were all right. Ms. Dale as well, although she was a dim after thought, at this point.

Owen jogged up behind me, slowing down to a walk as he caught up. “That was a lot, huh?”

I glanced over at him, and shook my head. “I really don’t know what to make of all this.”

“Yeah. I, uh… read your file and kind of pieced together what happened in here. You’ve been having a pretty rough time, huh?”

I paused mid-step, my head whipping around to look at him. “Rough time?” I hissed, spearing him with a look. “You have no idea what I have been through. So don’t offer me your false sincerity or pity. Just shut up, and take me where I need to go.”

Owen’s face became neutral, but I detected a small flash of pain before it disappeared. “All right,” he said in a clipped tone.

We remained silent as we made our way upstairs. I grabbed an apple off the tree as we passed through the greenhouse. Once in the living quarters, Owen opened the immediate door to my right, revealing Tim.

He was sleeping on the floor, blankets and pillows piled up around him in a makeshift nest. I started to say something, but Owen shook his head and closed the door softly.

“Don’t try to stop me from talking to my brother,” I whispered angrily, trying to push past him. He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“The last time someone accidentally woke your brother up, he broke their jaw. I just didn’t want him reacting strongly and accidentally hurting you.”

I stared at him for a long moment, the anger draining out of me. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, but I remembered how animalistic he had seemed fighting Marina. I didn’t know the extent of his problems, which meant I had no idea what it would take for him to get better. “Is he okay?”

Owen hesitated and shook his head. “Not exactly. Desmond will have to explain more later, but for now, you can see he’s safe and sound. We haven’t hurt him.”

“Then show me Viggo.”

Owen hesitated again. “He’s upstairs,” he said softly.

I pushed past him toward the next staircase. Owen padded along beside me silently as I pushed through the door.

Once upstairs, he pointed me to a room and I went in.

Viggo was lying in the bed, hooked up to machines. They were beeping softly, monitoring his vitals.

He was unconscious, but he looked better—there was more pink in his skin than when I last saw him. I let out the breath I was holding and moved closer, taking his hand in mine.

I expected him to wake up when I touched him, but he didn’t. My heart sank into my stomach as I stroked my thumb over his hand. I wanted to cry to see him like this. He was strong—how could a simple gunshot bring him down like this?

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked Owen without looking at him.

He cleared his throat. “He's not so good, actually,” he replied, and I shot him a look.

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

Licking his lips, Owen fidgeted. “He… um… well, according to the Matrian spy, he used an excess of adrenaline to fight. It um… it damaged his heart.”

I blinked absorbing the information. I reached out, smoothing a lock of hair on his forehead. “C-Can you fix it?”

Owen sighed. “Not with the equipment we have here,” he said tiredly. “We need access to a surgical laser to repair the tear in his heart. Without it…” he trailed off, and