The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Viggo and Ms. Dale would enter the city separately, not only to take down two guard posts, but in order to secure two exits for us in case something went wrong. We had debated this one for a while, but in the end, we’d decided we had to risk both teams at once: the more soldiers we could get moving in on the plant, the more likely we would be able to put a stop to whatever Elena’s plan was. It didn’t make it feel any less like a suicide mission, and as I stood there, looking at some of the most important humans in my life, I felt the uncertainty hit me, the anxiety of the real possibility that someone in front of me was going to die tonight.

I moved over to Jay and Tim, immediately kneeling down and opening the bags lying in front of them, following an impulse to try to just… prepare them as much as possible, in the best way I could in the short time that remained.

“Violet, you can trust us,” Jay said.

“Everything on list. Here.” Tim pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, smiling at the fact that he had presented me with the list I’d written for him.

“I’m checking down here,” I said, rummaging through the items in both young men’s bags and mentally checking off the list again. It took me a few minutes to sift through all the items—but everything was there. “You got everything,” I needlessly informed my brother and Jay, while they threw each other annoyed looks. “Good job.”

Then I pulled them both in for a hug, taking special care with Tim. “Please try your best to be safe,” I whispered. “And smart. Nothing beats being smart.”

“We promise,” said Jay, his voice tight.

“Promise,” echoed Tim.

I held them for just a few seconds longer, savoring the hug, and then released them. “Good luck,” I said, watching them as they scooped up their bags and headed over to the cars, each one of them moving to a different vehicle to deposit his bags.

I felt a strange mix of pride and apprehension flowing through me at that moment. I was so proud of how much they had accomplished for themselves, in spite of their traumatic experiences. They kept on fighting, unwilling to yield or compromise. On the other hand, they were heading off to a battle with no defined rules. I was worried about them.

Viggo caught me in a hug as he went by, catching me by surprise. He lifted me up, spun me around once, and then dropped a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice rumbling from his chest.

“I know,” I replied.

Then he was gone—moving toward his car and climbing into it, Tim by his side in the passenger seat. He put the vehicle in gear, graced me with one more look and a wave, and then drove off, heading down the narrow lane to the main road that would lead him directly into the city.

I watched them go, trying to convince myself they would be all right. I was so absorbed in thought that I didn’t notice Owen suddenly beside me, his eyes also following the red taillights that were all pulling away from us down the road. There was a hunger in his blue gaze, and I knew how he felt.

Still, we hadn’t really talked since the incident with Desmond. Apparently, forgiveness had been the easy part—I knew I cared about Owen too much to stay angry at him forever. I knew I would still fight beside him. But being comfortable next to each other again? Comfortable enough to laugh and joke as though everything were okay? The weight of what had happened was still too great. It held my words inside me, taking the levity out of me every time I saw him.

“Let’s go,” I said softly, and then I turned, heading toward the door, the basement my final destination. There was a lot to do, and not a lot of time to get it done.





20





Viggo





The view down the scope of my rifle wasn’t promising, but it wasn’t unexpected, either. The hip-high barricades formed three lines—the first one sat about eighty feet away from where the buildings started. It was wide and deep, where the second one was narrow and only formed a semi-circle across the road. The last one was flat, a line across the road where the city ended just as abruptly as the farmlands began. The parts of the city that they had blocked off were heavily populated and had little open space between buildings—which had made it easier for the Matrians to cut off most escape routes. Beyond the barricades, it was hard to see anything. Some places in the city seemed to be lit with streetlights, while many of the areas were dark, the buildings just silhouettes against the night sky. Even from this distance, I could see the flickering light of fires here and there. It didn’t look pretty.

There were twelve wardens milling around inside the barricades. I didn’t need the scope to see them. The massive lights that had been attached to the roofs of both adjacent buildings shone extra bright, lighting up the road on either side. I tracked one olive-clad woman as she headed toward the building Violet had identified as their base.

“We’re in position,” Ms. Dale reported over the main radio channel, her voice muted and soft, almost as though she were whispering. I didn’t blame her—I also felt like whispering, even though we were hundreds of feet away. Truth was, her target was the more difficult one to take, so I could understand. To compensate, she had more soldiers than I did, but I still didn’t envy the task.

Taking the guard post was the part of our mission plan I liked the least, but then again, it was the one I knew the most about in terms of defenses. It was too late to rethink anything now, anyway. I looked around at my team, all lying next to me in the thick, decomposing cornstalks of the field we were hidden in. A massive harvester loomed behind us, providing additional cover, as the rest of the area was barren, devoid of life and trees. I knew there had been some at some point, but it was clear the guards had been busy cutting down any tree impeding their view. While their focus might have been on keeping people in, they weren’t na?ve enough to think nobody could get them from behind.

Margot found my gaze and offered a tight, nervous smile before turning and sighting down the sniper rifle she had been given. Cad was lying beside her, his own rifle pointed toward the barricades, but his eyes were on Margot. I could tell he was worried. We all were, really. Cruz, Gregory, Harry… there were fifteen of us out there—a mix of refugees and Liberators—most of them men and women I had had a hand in training. The air around them ran from excitement to nervousness, but the commitment was there. For now, anyway. Regretting that there hadn’t been time to say just a few more words to them, I exhaled and turned back to the barricade, trying to clear my mind of all the apprehension.

“Roger,” I replied softly to Ms. Dale, pressing my gloved thumb and my forefinger together to transmit. “We’re ready.” I switched over to the team channel and pressed my fingers together again. “Get ready, guys.”