The Gender War (The Gender Game #4) by Bella Forrest (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📕

hard, and then looked up at us, his eyes wide in fear. “Please don’t kill me,” he wheezed.

I gave him a disdainful look as Jay, having delivered the king through the window, went to help Ms. Dale secure the fallen guards. “We’re not going to kill you, sad to say. If you’re lucky, we might actually get you out of here alive. Tim,” I said to my brother, who looked like he was about to follow Jay across to the other room. “Would you keep an eye on this guy for us?” It seemed like the safest task I could assign Tim at the moment.

He nodded and came to stand watchfully by the king. The king gaped at me as I stepped over him and stooped to pick up, with my left hand, a piece of the mirror glass that glittered on the floor.

Viggo was right behind me. “I’m going to open the door,” I told him. “I’ll use this to see around the corner. Give me some covering fire, but keep it high—I don’t want to kill them if we don’t have to.”

Viggo nodded and held his gun up. “Ready,” he said.

I pulled open the door for him, and he fired a few rounds down the hall. As the shots rang out, I darted down low, under him, and stuck a piece of the mirror glass beyond the doorframe just in time to see a familiar flash of red hair as one of the attackers ducked back around a corner.

“It’s Amber,” I gasped, and Owen looked at me, his brows furrowed. Viggo pulled back into the room’s cover and pointed his gun at the floor.

“Not to alarm anyone,” Ms. Dale’s voice came calmly from the other room. “But they’ve got people on this side too. They might be trying to—” I heard her fire a few rounds down the hallway.

“Ideas?” I asked, ducking back from the doorway as more gunfire went off.

“How did they even know where I was?” cried the king. “This is a secret facility!”

I looked at Viggo, whose expression showed sudden understanding, and then felt a surge of annoyance as I came to the same conclusion. “Please… please tell me they didn’t follow us here,” I said, looking over to Owen.

He shook his head and gave a shrug. “You know I haven’t heard anything from the Liberators since you stopped the bombing,” he replied. “But that sounds exactly like Desmond.”

I groaned, massaging my forehead against my growing headache. “That was why they stopped trying to chase us from Matrus? This is like jumping out of the frying pan, expecting fire, only to find out you’ve been in the oven the whole damn time!”

“Look, let me try something,” announced Owen, creeping over to us.

I looked up at him. “What?”

Before Viggo and I could stop him, he stepped into the hall with his hands up, a slight cringe on his face. “Don’t shoot!” he called.

11

Viggo

I bit back a curse as Owen stepped into the hallway. I was preparing to grab him by the back of his uniform and haul him back in, when the gunfire suddenly stopped, as if someone had flipped a switch. There was a long silence that seemed louder than the sound of gunfire.

“Owen,” called a familiar, older voice from down the hall. I looked through the broken window at Ms. Dale, who was jamming a chair against the door in the other room.

“Henrik!” Owen replied, taking a step back. “I have to tell you something! There’s information you need to know before you complete this mission.”

Again, there was a pause. This one stretched out for much longer, and every second that ticked by, I expected to hear the gunshot that would end Owen’s life.

“What’s the information?” came a feminine voice I recognized from my time in the Liberators’ facility.

I looked at Violet, and she mouthed “I told you, it’s Amber!” at me. I turned back to Owen, keeping my eyes on him through the doorway. He seemed calm, but from this angle, I could see the trickle of sweat rolling down his forehead and past his cheeks.

“Desmond is using the Liberators on behalf of Queen Elena,” he said, his voice flat and even. “She is using you to take out the king, so that Elena can have grounds to come in and take control of Patrus.”

“That’s ridiculous, Owen,” Amber started, but Henrik quickly overrode her.

“How do you know this, son?” he grated, his voice stern and demanding.

Owen gave me a pleading look, and I nodded, sucking in a deep breath before stepping into the hallway.

Amber was standing at the other end, her gun lowered but still tight to her shoulder. Henrik was next to her, but his gun was resting against his hip and pointed upward. As soon as I appeared, Amber lifted the gun up a fraction, her violet eyes narrowing in hatred.

“Traitor,” she hissed, her eyes flicking to Owen. I held my gun on her. I didn’t want to fire it, but if she pulled the trigger, I was willing to end her.

Henrik grabbed the stock of her gun and pushed it down. “Give them a chance,” he ordered.

Amber looked up at him in shock, then outrage, but she backed down, letting the muzzle of the gun swing back toward the floor.

Owen took a step forward, his voice pleading. “Amber, you’ve known me for a long time. Have I ever lied to you?”

Her mouth tightened, but she shook her head at him. “You’re standing by his side?” she asked finally, her words dripping with disdain and fury.

“Amber, you know Viggo has done nothing but help since his surgery. He got back on his feet and found a way to reach the boys—you think a spy would volunteer for that? He devoted every hour of every day to them. He worked longer and harder than anybody else who volunteered to do it. He was tireless, patient, fair, and kind to them. So don’t you dare