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

dios!” I looked past Owen to see Cruz standing on the other side of the car, his uninjured hand covering his mouth. My small amount of relief that Cruz had escaped further injury was overwhelmed by concern over what he was looking at. “What is that?” he demanded.

“Desmond,” Owen replied grimly.

I quickly crossed the twenty or so feet that separated us and threw open the rear door. I immediately had to look away. If it weren’t for the hair and the eyes, there would be no way of discerning the identity of the… well, pulpy remains of human lying in the backseat, clumsily thrown atop what looked to be some kind of tarp. I was surprised her eyes were still intact, given the remains of her face alone. I doubted I’d ever be able to forget the image of an exposed and broken jaw pushing through her flayed skin like that, while her still-open eyes stared vacantly at the seat ahead. I took a closer look at Owen and realized he was covered in blood, likely from carrying her.

“You moved her?” I asked him, still not comprehending why he would bring us such… decimated remains.

“Yeah, well…” He met my gaze, his eyes hard. “It seemed like the right thing to do. After all, people should see that even monsters can be killed.”

The queasy feeling in my stomach remained. “It’s true. But that’s pretty, uh, gruesome.” In truth, it was hard to connect that broken, mutilated body to the woman who had orchestrated so many of the awful plans that had changed the face of Patrus—and Violet’s and my lives—forever. I found it hard to feel the anger, hard to feel that she was really gone. I knew this had been more merciful than the end she’d deserved, but it didn’t make me feel anything at the moment other than disgust.

Owen’s eyes glinted, and the hard look didn’t fall from his face. “Look, I didn’t bring her here for your approval. I brought her here because she fell—she almost fell on me—from the heloship that escaped the plant. I thought it was important for people to see, and it might be useful in dealing with the Matrians… but more importantly, I marked the coordinates where she landed. Maybe Thomas can triangulate the starting location from where the body landed. We could track Violet.”

The thought sent a pulse of energy through me. I immediately stood up and moved over to one of my men, asking him to give me his comms. Within seconds, I was back to Owen, holding the equipment out to him. He quickly slipped it on.

“Thomas,” his voice buzzed in my ear. “I found where Desmond hit, and marked the coordinates. Do you think you can—”

“Are you sure she’s dead?” Ms. Dale demanded. “We need proof. This is something we can’t leave to chance—”

“I’m sure,” I replied, cutting her off. “Owen brought her corpse back. She’s definitely dead.”

If Thomas had any triumph or sorrow over Desmond’s death, his voice didn’t show it. “Give me the coordinates, Owen.”

I moved back over to Morgan as Owen began listing off the coordinates, questions burning through my mind. How had he and Violet gotten separated? “Morgan, why wasn’t Owen with you?”

Morgan blinked at me, and then seemed to sag in relief as she noticed the blonde man by the car. I could tell by her expression that she was in shock… or maybe just drained. It was hard to tell the difference these days.

“Thank God he’s okay,” she muttered, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “He drew off several of the enhanced Matrians. We were hopelessly outnumbered, and he shot at them and distracted their attention.”

I made an instant decision not to be mad about Owen abandoning his post as Violet’s bodyguard. I was sure he had done his best to keep Violet as safe as he could, all things considered. Besides, the man had been given an impossible task. The only way to keep Violet safe was to lock her up and throw away the key, and I would never ever let that happen to her, so it looked like a lifetime of reckless adventures for me. Not that I would complain—if we could just get her back from this latest one alive. I felt like praying to whatever was out there to keep her safe, but I felt even more like rushing after her as fast as I possibly could.

First things first. “They found Desmond’s body,” I informed Morgan quietly. “She was thrown from the heloship.”

“Good,” she replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Cody started to cry quietly, and Morgan’s face went from satisfied to mortified. Immediately she knelt down and pulled the boy into her arms, holding him and whispering softly to him. I watched them both as I waited for Thomas’ analysis on the radio, listening to her tell him that it was over, and by picking up bits of their conversation I caught on to the fact that Desmond had fired at Cody, turning the entire boy’s world upside down. My heart ached for him, but deep down, I was glad he had seen that darkness in Desmond before she had died. It would be good for him in the long run.

It was finally starting to process—like waking up and realizing the last night hadn’t been a dream, but a memory. God, I was so happy she was dead. Now that I’d had a taste of a moment of thinking of the world without Desmond Betrand’s evil schemes, I wouldn’t apologize for that happiness. That woman had been the source of all my troubles since I’d met Violet. Well, one of the sources—the other was still at large. I just hoped Violet was all right.

I also hoped Desmond had been bluffing about her threat with the boys, because if she wasn’t, we would have less than a week to find a way to rescue them or break Elena’s hold over them before her “people” started executing