The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

Eventually, the task was finished, and everyone began to move back to the house, Owen between them. Violet remained behind, her head turning as she looked around the area, clearly searching for me. I took a moment to collect myself, and then emerged from my hiding place as her eyes moved across the tree line.

Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a soft look, full of understanding that only twisted my guts up further. I knew I didn’t deserve that mercy, and I came to a halt before I reached her and looked away, ashamed. I hated that she was giving me that look. I hated that she was so blinded by her love for me she couldn’t see my limitations. Yet I loved her all the same for finding a strength that seemed to have deserted me, for having faith in me despite all evidence to the contrary.

That twisting hatred didn’t stop me from letting her cross over to me. Nor did I stop her as she slid her arms around my waist, stepping in close and resting her head against my chest. My arms came around her shoulders softly, needing to hold her, craving the comfort of her warmth and acceptance.

“Owen will forgive you eventually,” she murmured softly. I didn’t say anything, but she knew I didn’t believe her. “He will,” she insisted, her arm tightening around me. “He’s mad right now, but it will pass. He’ll realize it wasn’t your fault—it was Desmond and Elena’s. They are the ones who deserve his anger for what happened, not you. And he’ll remember that soon enough.”

I didn’t object, but I knew he wouldn’t. Losses like Owen’s were wounds that ran deep, cutting to the bone. They festered, and many never fully healed. He would carry the emotional scars for the rest of his life. Maybe he would get somewhat better, but the pain would linger. I knew, because the memory of Miriam still haunted me to this day, whispering that I had failed her.

There was no way to know how long we stood there, but eventually the sound of approaching feet forced me to put my growing melancholy aside. Letting go of Violet, I took a step back and saw Ms. Dale approaching, her hair, loose for once, getting caught up in the slight breeze and blowing wildly around her face.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But I just came from the house, and Jeff is on the handheld from the city, with information he thinks we all need to hear. We’re to call him back in ten minutes. This will give us a chance to talk about Cody.”

I nodded and ran a hand over my head, lamenting the fact that even in moments like this, when we desperately needed silence 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.”