The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)

Morgan raised her pistol as soon as she got out of the hole, and I ducked down, covering my ears as she fired three shots into the small, confined space. The woman bellowed, and Morgan cursed. “I winged her,” she said. “But she’s coming around from the other side. We gotta run for it.”


I slid the rest of the way out of the pipes and began running, cutting across the concrete and heading to the next asymmetrical pipe cluster. My ribs creaked and ached, but I couldn’t stop for them—they would either be fine, or I would be dead anyway. Morgan ran beside me, and behind her, I could hear not one, but multiple sets of running feet. Tossing a quick glance over my shoulder, I saw three women in pursuit, and I forced my aching body faster, knowing we couldn’t outrun them for long.

We drew closer to another bit of exposed piping sitting closer to the building wall, and one of the women gave a triumphant, bloodcurdling howl, the other two joining in the chorus. I felt myself flinch even as I ran, certain that I was moments away from my death, when a masculine bellow drowned the noise out with sheer volume.

I pulled up short as Solomon landed a few feet away, flying down from some unknown perch, his breath coming in sharp pants. He looked even more battered than before, and I saw red abrasions running up and down his shoulders and chest, like he’d been dragged along the concrete. Morgan pulled up short beside me, and I could hear her little gasp of surprise as she looked at him, the thick ropes of muscle cutting deep lines into his physique, a grim, determined sort of anger tense on his features.

The three women chasing us switched focus, and I ducked as their shadows passed by overhead as they threw themselves at Solomon all at once. “No!” I cried, leveling the gun at one of them and squeezing the trigger, satisfied when she dropped.

The other two landed on Solomon, their fists flying as the large black man was driven back a few steps on impact. He took a blow to the face, and then, barely fazed, began fighting back, kicking one in the chest hard enough to throw her back toward us. I ducked down and moved left, this time pulling Morgan behind me, and we ran.

“You just want to leave him?” I asked.

“It looks like he’s got this!” she shouted back as she oriented us both using the main plant building, following the walls around. This area of the concourse had less gunfire and fewer people, but it didn’t stop my eyes from jumping from shadow to shadow, alert for any whiff of enemy.

I slowed to a stop at a certain point, my breath coming in pants and my head beginning to spin. Morgan didn’t notice at first, but then she jogged back as I tried to regulate my breathing. “Sorry,” I wheezed, my hand wrapping around my side, trying to stave off the stabbing pains that ripped through my side at every breath. Now that we were no longer being directly pursued, I couldn’t continue ignoring it. “Give me a minute.”

Morgan looked around, her lips thinning, obviously displeased. Her eyes darted around the area, and she nodded. “Just one minute,” she said, and I gave her a look.

“Wasn’t asking for your permission,” I informed her, pleased I had enough air in my lungs to do so. “Not to mention, what the hell was that—stuffing me in between some pipes and trying to run off like that?”

“I was doing it for you,” she whispered, incredulous.

“No, you were doing that for you,” I replied tartly, my breathing calming down some. “No offense, Morgan, but it was dumb! There’s no way I can get Desmond without some help. I already…” I couldn’t say lost. “…am missing Owen. I can’t do this all alone!” I held up my right arm, showing her the cast that still encased the lower half.

“Violet, you took down a bunch of Desmond’s guards by yourself,” Morgan tsked, annoyed. “And she handpicks them, believe me. You can handle—”

“I had time to think then! I set traps and made them come to me! This is different. We’re chasing Desmond. Lynne’s gone, and Owen’s…”

I trailed off as Morgan shut her eyes for a minute, realizing she didn’t need a reminder of what had just happened. She made a fist and then unclenched it, nodding tightly. “You’re right,” she said after a second. “Even if it wasn’t Desmond, I shouldn’t have thought to leave you alone. Not with all this insanity. Anything could happen. To… anyone.”

I sighed, suddenly feeling like a jerk. “Look, I know you meant well. It’s just… we’re a team. I’m not the golden girl who needs to be rescued or protected.”

“Then why’d you agree to let Owen become your bodyguard?” Morgan asked.

I studied her closely, and instead of finding animosity, I saw only curiosity in her eyes. “Let’s talk and walk.” Normally I wouldn’t have wanted to talk in a combat situation, but for just a moment, I needed to rest my heart and think about something small, and I sensed that Morgan wanted the distraction too.

We began moving forward again, both of us scanning the pipes for movement, and I contemplated her question, not entirely knowing the answer at first. “It’s hard to explain, but… when Viggo approached me with his idea, the only thing I could focus on was that he was not going to exile Owen. I didn’t care what his punishment was, just that he wasn’t forced to go for making a bad call.”

“That bad call could’ve cost you your life,” Morgan pointed out as she ducked under a fat pipe running from the building into the ground. “He gave Desmond information about us as well.”

“I trust Owen.” It was not grounded on any logical argument, but it was the truth. It had definitely taken a leap of faith, but I had done it without thinking.

“That egg thing is dangerous, Violet. Elena—the Matrians knowing that it’s still in play could be catastrophic.”

I resisted the bitter chuckle that built up in my throat, trading it for a sad nod. “Any worse than what’s going on in there?” I asked, and she paused mid-step before pressing ahead.

“Maybe,” she said. “Although, knowing the queen, she’s got a backup plan. Probably will try to breed with one of the older boys from the experiments or something.”

I cringed. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah. But it’s just how she would think.”

Considering her words, I stepped out around a serpentine spiral of pipes and paused when I saw a car sitting abandoned in front of the tall metal fence that cut across the yard, separating the concrete from the field containing the collection ponds. I knew from the aerial photos that this area housed the collection vats, where the water was stored and pre-treated before entering the plant proper. There were several massive vats that sat at ground level, each containing several thousand gallons of water.

I could see one of the wide, circular ponds sitting a few feet away just past the fence, the water dark and still, but the reflective surface glowing red.

“She’s gotta be in there,” I said, pointing to the open gate. “It’s a pretty open space, so sneaking up on her isn’t going to be an option.”