The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Ms. Dale noticed my rising temper and stepped in between us, blocking my view of Desmond. I moved around her as she spoke, but also took a step back, cautious enough not to get too close to her. “You’ve given us your request. We’re done here.”


She turned and pressed a hand to my chest, sternly mouthing the word ‘go.’ I robotically moved back a few steps, and then turned, gaining control of myself. I left the room, Ms. Dale hot on my heels. I watched as she locked the door, then hid the keychain in the next room—with our team coming and going, we needed an accessible place to keep it.

The hatred that had cloyed my chest a moment ago had started to dissipate, my anger draining away bits at a time. I had never felt so out of control in an interrogation room, but then again, I had never had the chance to interrogate Desmond. “I’m sorry,” I said roughly. “I thought I could handle that better, but—”

“It’s Desmond,” Ms. Dale said, her voice bitter. “You’re not the only one who can feel her like something greasy on the skin. She’s an expert at this, so it’s going to take a while to break her.”

“That last part… she didn’t sound like she was lying,” I said, hating that I even had to entertain that thought.

Ms. Dale scowled, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Well, at least we haven’t taken any steps backward. Viggo, the two best ways of breaking someone are through fear or guilt. We tried fear, but Desmond is old. She doesn’t have much left to fear. She’ll lie through her teeth to save her life, but it doesn’t help us much if we have no cross-references. Maybe we should try guilt, see if we can’t shake something loose.”

I frowned. “You want to use Jay?” I did not like that idea at all.

“Ask, yes. Use, no. But… she did ask for him.”

“Please. She was just doing that as a mind game, trying to throw you off balance. We shouldn’t ask Jay if he would be okay with…”

Ms. Dale shot me a warning glance and then nodded to a place just past my range of vision. Turning, I paused when I saw Jay standing there, his arms full of split wood, staring at both of us. His dark hair clung wetly to his forehead, his cheeks stained red from exertion. “Shouldn’t ask Jay if he’d be okay with what?” he asked, bending over to deposit the wood into the pile next to the hearth. The bits of wood clattered as they hit the stone floor. It was the only sound in a room gone silent.

I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t an easy thing to talk to anyone about, but especially not the son of our prisoner, a boy she had personally sacrificed to Mr. Jenks’ terrible experimentations.

“Do you want me to—”

“No,” I said, cutting Ms. Dale off. Jay dusted off his hands, watching the two of us, and then shook his head.

“You were in with my mom,” he said after a pause. “Trying to ask her questions?”

“Kind of,” I hedged. “She… um… She asked about you.”

Jay didn’t say anything, didn’t even move, for a long time, his eyes drifting toward the door separating them. “She wants to see me?” Even after all she had done to him, there was no denying the slim sliver of hope amid the naked pain that his neutral voice didn’t begin to mask.

I moved over to him, unable to stop myself. “You don’t have to see her,” I told him. “Not if you don’t want to.” Dropping an arm over his shoulder, I tugged him a little closer to me, relieved that he let me, but still worried by the tension radiating from his frame.

“She knows things,” he said hollowly. “Things that would help us.”

“She does,” announced Ms. Dale. “But Viggo is right. You don’t have to see her. In fact, it’s probably better that you don’t.”

“Why?” Jay cocked his head, his gaze on the door finally breaking as he regarded Ms. Dale.

Ms. Dale hesitated, and then reached out and took his hand. “You know, for a second, I honestly wanted to convince you to do it. But after thinking about it, I realized that no information is worth you being hurt for. And that’s all Desmond would do—she’d try to hurt you.”

Jay considered this. “When I was little, before… before the facility… she used to be away for long periods of time. I never knew where she was or what she was doing. But… I always knew when she got home. It was usually late at night, but the first thing she would do was come in and check on us. It would always wake me up, and I would get so excited she would climb into bed with me to keep me from waking Lee. She’d hold me and tell me stories…” His voice cracked, and he looked down, tears dripping down his face. Even though he was a young man, he looked very much like a small boy in that moment—hurt and lost. It made my soul hurt, seeing him that way. “How can I talk to her, when she isn’t even the same mother I remember? What if all that was a lie and… and she never really loved me? I couldn’t even believe her if she told me that those moments were just as special to her as they were to me… because… because…”

“Because if they were, then her putting you into the facility would make you hurt even more,” I supplied softly.

He sniffed, tears rolling down his cheeks in big fat drops. His shoulders shuddered slightly, and I took a step forward, wrapping an arm around him and holding him tight. “You only have to see her if you want to,” I told him as he bit back a tiny sob. “No one is going to judge you for not wanting to. Not one bit. We all love you, Jay, and we just want to make sure you’re okay, no matter what you decide, okay?”

Jay nodded stiffly and stepped back, scrubbing his face with the sleeve of his dark green sweater. He began to move, but I held on to him. “If you need to talk, we’re always here for you.”

Jay sighed, his shoulders heaving under my hand. “I know that, Viggo—I do. You, Tim, and Violet are like family.” He paused and looked over my shoulder, shifting awkwardly. “You too, Ms. Dale.”

She chuckled knowingly. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to make me your battle ax of an aunt, Jay. What’s important is that you feel safe, and happy.”

He nodded again, wiping his nose. “Thanks. I, uh, I’d like to go. I kinda want to be alone… so I can think.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

With that, Jay turned and fled from the room as if Desmond herself were chasing him. Watching him go, I felt my heart ache in response to his pain. He’d find someone to talk to about it—Tim, Violet, Quinn. He wasn’t alone, and we wouldn’t let him be.

That was what family was for, after all.





14





Violet





“Look, we need to have a plan together before we talk to these rebels,” said Ms. Dale, her cheeks flushed. “If we present them with two different ideas, then we’ll only be sending mixed messages.” I suppressed a smile. The argument had been going on for the better part of fifteen minutes, and I could tell Ms. Dale was not going to give up.