The Gender End by Bella Forrest (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📕

and averted my gaze, following Morgan’s footsteps as she moved fast across the wide antechamber, heading for a large metal vault door that hung ajar, as though its hinges had been damaged somehow.

The still-standing boy almost plowed into me to get to a warden missing a leg and trying to drag herself away, but a different warden lying on the ground just behind him lashed out with a foot, catching him in the back of the knee. He fell, and she leapt off the ground onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing.

I didn’t want to leave her to face the boy alone or vice versa, but I couldn’t risk her stopping us, so I dodged it all and darted by.

I’m entering the vault, Morgan announced, and I waited a moment before slipping after her through the crack in the vault door.

My momentum carried me a few steps forward, into the vault before I had the thought to stop. Morgan was already as still as a statue, suddenly visible, tension radiating off of her like a furnace.

I could see why she had given up all efforts toward stealth: it wasn’t going to help her here. Elena’s face was impassive as she looked back at us from behind thermal goggles, one hand on a little blonde girl’s shoulder, the other hand pressing a gun to her head. The little girl’s eyes were round with terror, confusion, and pain as she looked around, fighting back tears.

“Elena, why are you—”

“Shut up,” Elena ordered, shaking the young girl by her arm. “And Violet—drop it.”

“Who are you—” Sierra said, her sentence cutting off as I let go of my control of the suit. Sierra took a cursory glance at me, and then her attention waned, her focus solely on Morgan. “Morgana?” she said uncertainly, staring at the girl next to me. “Why—who—”

“Sierra,” Morgan breathed. She’d turned her subvocalizer off, and I reached up and did the same. Morgan’s head snapped up to look at Elena. “What do you want?”

Elena arched an elegant eyebrow, but her expression didn’t change.

“You really have to ask?” she replied, before looking at me. “Egg.”

“We didn’t even bring it up from the labs,” Morgan began to lie, and in a fluid motion, Elena moved the gun and pointed, pulling the trigger. The shot went off, and I flinched slightly as something behind me dropped to the floor.

Looking over my shoulder, I felt sick to my stomach when I saw the still form of one of the berserker boys, his hand outstretched just a few inches from my foot. I turned in time to see Elena smoothly put the gun back to Sierra’s temple, her face never moving a muscle.

“The egg,” she repeated. “Or I let whatever comes in next tear you apart limb from limb.”

Morgan turned her gaze toward me, her face configured in a silent plea, but I was already opening my bag. I pulled the silver case out and held it up, and then placed it on a table that separated us from Elena. She watched me, her eyes gleaming with warning as she grabbed Sierra’s hand, jerking her forward. I took a slow, healthy step back, shooting a glance toward the still-open vault, checking for the other berserker.

Turning back, I realized Elena was staring at the egg. She did that for a long moment, and then blinked, her gaze suddenly returning to me.

“The key?”

I glared back at her, irritation at the smug look on her face warring with my concern for the terrified little girl. After a pause, I reached up and tore the chain off my neck. I held the key out, dangling from my fist, and then put it on top of the egg.

Elena’s lips curled up, and she met my gaze. “Thank you,” she said, her smile growing, and getting crueler, a fraction at a time.

I realized it had gone very quiet in the room behind me, and turned in time to see the third boy, reaching for Morgan. She leapt suddenly, but it was the wrong direction, and he caught her with his wild, artless blow, low and in the side.

Morgan went flying through the air, impacting on a bookcase with a thud and sliding to the floor. I followed her trajectory, when a movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. Turning, I saw Elena moving toward the open door, the egg tucked under one arm, her hand tight on Sierra’s wrist as she dragged the little girl from the room.

Then the boy stepped in front of me, and I barely had a moment to register his swing. I dodged it without even thinking, and then scrambled back as he pressed the advantage. He swung at me again, and I darted out of his way, barely avoiding blows and well aware of my limited abilities against him.

“They’re getting away!” Morgan’s voice, rough and out of breath, came desperately through the room.

I couldn’t shoot him, but I needed to get to Elena, and fast. The gun was still in my hand—Elena had never ordered us to put our weapons down. She had counted on us not wanting to risk Sierra, and had gambled correctly. Yet even though the boy threatened my life, I couldn’t—wouldn’t—pull the trigger.

A thought occurred to me as I ducked under a wild haymaker, and I sprang forward, rolling between his legs and coming out the other side. I reached into the pocket on my thigh and pulled out a tranquilizer dart—I had just two left, but I only needed one for Elena—and ripped the cap off with my teeth.

He was turning around to hit me, but I ducked low and jammed the needle into the meaty part of his thigh and then moved away. The young man looked down at the tranquilizer dart, then back up at me as I slowly retreated, his eyes dark and wild with rage. He bared his teeth and snapped at me with a vicious snarl. I moved back more