The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

Owen lowered his arms and shook his head slowly, as though thinking out loud. “Wouldn’t it help more people, ultimately, if we went straight to the top? Maybe we should stop focusing on symptoms of the problem and go straight for the cause. Elena or Desmond, it doesn’t matter which one, but that’s who we should be going after. Finish things once and for all.”

Behind me, I sensed Viggo straightening up, but it was Amber who spoke. “What are you proposing?” she asked.

Owen met my gaze, and then looked away, shifting slightly. “What if we give Desmond what she asked for?” he said hoarsely. “We do like Violet did: tell her about the real egg, offer her Maxen… or maybe even Violet, as bait. We just need something to tell Desmond. Something to draw her in close enough to put a bullet in her head.” His eyes were suddenly glued to my face, as though pleading with me. “Then we could make sure she never hurts any of them again. Then we could… we could protect them.”

I gaped at Owen, understanding the dark place in his mind this was coming from. Sometimes I had wanted just such an outcome so badly I could taste it. But we’d already chosen not to do things that brutally unless we were forced. Even if it was only one possible option, the thought of offering myself up again was almost nauseating. A wave of dizziness assaulted me as I thought about the last time I had done that, the twisted images of losing my fight with Tabitha—badly—coursing through me, taking me back to the worst moments.

“We are not doing that,” said Ms. Dale, a note of finality in her voice. “Nobody is being used as bait again. It’s too unpredictable, and it’s certainly not humane.” I almost sagged in relief as I heard her say it; then I felt a surge of guilt, as though cowardice had a flavor and I suddenly tasted it on my tongue. Could I save the boys by sacrificing myself? But at the same time, a more rational part of my mind protested as well. While Tabitha had been evil, she had also been exploitable. Her temper and arrogance had often gotten the better of her, and that had been her weak point. I’d known that going in.

Desmond had plans and fallbacks and a calm, rational mind that could cut through any gamble we took almost before we could conceive it. Even if I was willing to make that sacrifice—something I couldn’t consider until I was fully functional again, at least—I wouldn’t do it unless we had a foolproof plan.

I felt Viggo place his hand on my shoulder, and without thinking, I reached up and took it, appreciating the support. After a heartbeat or two, I looked up and met Owen’s gaze. His expression morphed into one of regret when he met my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out a whisper. “You’re right, of course. I just…” His hands curled into fists as he trailed off, and then he shook his head. “I don’t think I should be here right now. I’m… I’m going to go get some air.”

We watched as he left, walking out of the room with sharp, agitated steps, as if he had just lit a match and set the whole place on fire. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help but feel that, in a way, he had. But instead of being angry, now it just made me feel worse for the choices before him. As much as it made my heart ache, there was nothing I could do for him right now. I knew, better than most, that this was a fight he had to face himself.

Sighing, I turned back to the others. “We have some pieces of a good plan here,” I said. “I think we should move forward with seeing if we can duplicate the identification papers. Ms. Dale, are you okay with finding a woman to send out to get her papers?”

Ms. Dale nodded her assent. Everyone else seemed to agree wordlessly, and I noticed Amber and Thomas’ eyes were still trained on the door. The plan wasn’t optimal, and neither were any of our states of mind… but I had hopes for this mission. To me, this conflict was like a series of walls. If we broke enough of them down, we would eventually get to Desmond and Elena. By then, I hoped we would have the weight of the people behind us. And hopefully, my dearly bought video would be the catalyst.





30





Viggo





Ian was struggling beneath me, his eye bulging as I tightened my hands around his throat. He kicked furiously, his little arms fruitlessly trying to push my weight off him, and I smiled and pressed my hands deeper into his neck, tightening them as he gagged for air. I felt his heart beating against my chest, light and fast, like a bird’s wings flapping, harder, faster, until…

I jerked awake, my heart pounding and my breath coming in sharp, agonized pants. Sweat dotted my forehead, and in the cool of night, it chilled my skin. I looked over to where Violet lay sleeping on her side, her back to me, the fuzz of newly growing hair on her head just visible in the pale light from the window. She let out a soft snore and tossed fitfully, turning toward me, and I sighed, trying to calm my pulse.

Slipping the blanket off my body, I moved out of her way just as her arm flopped over where my chest would’ve been had I remained in bed. I felt a pang of regret, but it did nothing to stop me from standing up. Moving over to the window, I grabbed my shirt from the back of a chair, using it to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Tossing it back over the chair, I pulled open the dresser in the corner of the room, grabbed another shirt I had pilfered from my cabin, and threw it over my head.

Looking out the window, I saw that the sun was finally coming up over the mountains. The yard was still gray in the pre-dawn light. My eyes immediately flicked over to where the guards were supposed to be standing post, checking to make sure none of them had drifted off or were out of position for any reason. They weren’t, and I leaned my hip against the desk near the window, accepting that my pitiful efforts at distracting myself from the nightmare haunting me for the last couple of hours had failed.

I looked around the room, feeling trapped by its bare, medical confines. My muscles itched, looking for something to do, and I had to leave. It wasn’t a desire, but a necessity.