The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Owen swallowed, and it seemed that everybody in the room could hear the sound. “I bargained with her. I told her she had to promise not to hurt Violet, and she could only bring a few guards, even though I knew she wouldn’t honor the first promise for long. I thought—” He stumbled, then his voice grew clear again, and he looked up at the crowd with a frankness I couldn’t help but respect, albeit grudgingly. “I was being reckless, but I thought that if the two of us got her to come out to a remote location with only a few guards, we could take her down once and for all. End all of this. But I knew that Violet would never agree. Desmond taught me well, it seems.” Owen’s tone was a strange kind of soured wistfulness, his admission tainted by whatever guilt was tearing at him. “I knew that if I drove Violet around, and pointed out how close Ashabee’s manor was, she’d want to go. I even resisted at first… I played her.”


He looked at Violet, and then at me, and I met his gaze head on, the urge to hit him temporarily silencing the voice of reason. Violet squeezed my fingers again, and I released Owen’s gaze and shifted my attention to her, noting her watching me from the corner of her eye. Her face was impassive, but her shoulders stooped.

“I know what I did was wrong. I see that now. But it doesn’t change what I did. And I know what you’re thinking. You think that… that Ian’s… that what happened was affecting my judgment, and you’re probably right. But it doesn’t matter. I have to own what I did. So please, just don’t let that affect your decision. I deserve whatever punishment you decide.”

He fell quiet, and the silence grew. I risked a glance around the table, trying to get a read on the room. Ms. Dale’s face was twisted with a scowl, her brows down, her eyes glued to the table. Amber’s cheeks were flushed red, and she was leaning slightly away from Owen, distinctly uncomfortable. Thomas, on the other hand, was staring at Owen, his face in a surprising configuration of openhearted compassion and understanding. I envied Thomas that—so quick to forgive, to understand, even in the face of betrayal.

Owen closed his eyes after a moment, and then exhaled. “I’ll go outside,” he announced quietly in the silence. “Let you all talk.”

He left, the floorboards creaking as he strode determinedly from the room. I kept my hand in Violet’s as the blond man closed the door behind him with a click. Then I heard the boards outside thump as he headed down the stairs, presumably to his tent or to the barn, to await his sentence.

The seconds ticked on as we sat there, the entire group silent save for the sound of breathing and the occasional squeak of a chair.

“How should we handle this?” asked Violet finally.

Her question seemed to rouse everyone from their deep thoughts. Ms. Dale blinked, and then straightened up in her chair. She cleared her throat. “Well, I guess the first thing we should do is decide if he should be punished. After that, we decide what the punishment is.”

“He just admitted to being a traitor. Of course we should punish him.” Amber’s voice was bitter, and I could taste the anger and hurt as she spat the words out. I was surprised by her vehemence, yet also realized that, with how volatile Amber was and her personal history, her feelings made sense. Amber’s father had once tried to sell her hand in marriage in order to settle his debts. I was certain Owen’s betrayal struck a very deep chord in Amber, especially as it pertained to a man selling out a girl he was supposed to care about. Owen would have a long way to go with Amber before he ever earned her forgiveness.

“If you want to blame anyone, blame me,” said Thomas. I frowned, noticing a similar confusion roll across everyone’s faces. “I miscalculated. I thought more highly of Owen’s mental and emotional state than was reasonable for his loss. Siblings are hard to account for. Some are friends while others are…”

He paused, and then looked down at the table. “I’m sorry. I realize that thread of conversation might not be completely relevant.”

“We’re not going to blame you, Thomas,” announced Ms. Dale. “As admirable as it is that you want to take the blame for your friend, I won’t allow it. We need to try and figure out a solution. I’m curious—Violet? What do you think?”

Violet frowned, her brows drawing together. I watched her take a deep breath in, and then another, and recognized she was picking her words carefully. “What Owen did was wrong, but he did it with good intentions.”

“How can we know that for sure?” Amber said, slamming her hand against the table. “He called Desmond and lied about it. Why wouldn’t he lie about this? How do we even know that he hasn’t been working for her all this time?!”

“Because I was there, Amber!” Violet said, her voice rising to a shout.

Amber leaned back, alarm and surprise filtering over her face. Violet licked her lips and looked up, taking in another deep breath, and I reached out to take her hand in both of mine. She gave me an appreciative smile, and then turned back to Amber.

“I’m sorry,” Violet said. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that. It’s just, I believe Owen when he says he intended to trap her. Not just because he said so, or because I could see this… desperate need for vengeance in his eyes. When Desmond had us cornered in the basement, we had a fight. At first, he tried to make me stay and help him, but when I refused, he told me to run and save myself. He said he’d made a mistake bringing me. He wanted to face Desmond and all her guards by himself, if he had to. I believe that was his real intention.” Her gaze was hard to read as she looked toward the door, her eyes clearly seeking Owen.

Ms. Dale rocked back in her chair, her arms folded over her stomach as she studied Violet. “We put it to a vote,” she announced after a moment. “All those in favor of exacting punishment on Owen?”

“Aye,” said Amber, her violet gaze hard and uncompromising.

“Aye,” said Ms. Dale, her face grim. She looked at me, and I shook my head. “Opposed?”

“Me.” Violet’s voice was soft, but I heard the thread of steel there. I was simultaneously surprised and unsurprised. Then again, even she seemed a bit surprised by her own admission. She shot a glance at me, her eyebrows drawn high.

“Me too,” said Thomas. “Although, for the record, perhaps I should recuse myself, as my decision is purely emotional.”

“Noted, but this is emotional for all of us, Thomas.” Ms. Dale looked at me. “Viggo?”

I hesitated, knowing that I hadn’t said much—nothing at all since Owen had spoken. It was partially because I wasn’t sure what to say. I was also partially afraid of what I would say.

Even under everyone’s scrutiny, I felt frozen. Torn between anger and guilt. The choice sounded simple—it was just a yes or no—but it wasn’t easy at all. On the one hand, Violet was fine. We had Desmond. Owen’s act hadn’t damaged us, and it had possibly even bolstered our chances of getting valuable intelligence. He’d apologized. On the other hand, he could’ve gotten Violet, and really, all of us here, killed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking the silence. “I need more time. I can’t come up with a decision on it right away.”

“But we’re tied—” started Amber, her cheeks flushing red.