The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) by Bella Forrest (i have read the book a hundred times .txt) 📕

the hundreds of people in the street, as if dozens of eyes were on me. In reality, I suspected that nobody was paying attention to the four of us, but my irrational mind was paranoid.

Every time someone drew too close or turned to face us, I would hold my breath and alter my path slightly to avoid them. It made what should’ve been a relatively short walk slightly longer, but I didn’t want to risk discovery. Amber’s life was on the line, as was Viggo’s, and I was determined to not lose either of them.

Just then, a slew of angry voices broke out to our left. I risked a glance over to see two men shouting at each other, their faces red and mottled with outrage. The men were clearly inebriated, and their friends were trying to pull them apart.

I started to change the angle of our path yet again when one of the men shoved the other directly into me. I stumbled back, and the man whirled around to face me.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, before freezing. In my mad rush to get ready in the sewers, I had forgotten to take the Deepvox pills.

The man’s eyes narrowed as he took me in. He was nearly twice my weight, and not from fat. His arms were thick and bound with muscles, his chest broad and wide. He looked at the crowd coalesced around us. I caught a glimpse of Owen and the others as they moved around it, taking advantage of the attention that the man and I were getting.

I moved to leave when he grabbed my arm. “Small little thing, ain’t ya?” he declared. He was close enough for me to smell the foul stench of liquor on his breath, and I resisted the urge to gag. I looked at where his hand clutched my arm with bruising intensity, and then followed his arm up to his face.

He gave a feral smile and internally, I groaned. This man was clearly looking for a fight, and there was not going to be an easy or political way to extract myself. Around us, the crowd rippled as whispers were exchanged. I glanced back to where Owen and Quinn were standing with Amber. Owen shot me an inquisitive look, asking if I needed his help, and I gave a slow, barely perceptible shake of my head. The instant he got involved, the situation would explode.

I turned, facing the man. “Sir,” I said, making my voice as deep as I could, “would you kindly let go of my arm? I’m just trying to help my mates home after a night of drinking. You understand, right?”

The man’s expression morphed into one of confusion. He stared at me and then began to laugh, slapping his knee with his free hand.

“Look here, gents. We got us a bit of a spine in this little fish. What say we pulverize it?”

I saw his fist beginning to clench, felt as he tensed and shifted his weight in preparation to throw a punch. I didn’t give him the chance. I snapped two quick jabs and an uppercut directly into his face with my free arm.

The man’s head jerked back and he staggered, dragging me along with him. The heel of his boot caught the edge of the pavement, and before I knew it, he was dragging me to the ground.

I sprawled into him, caught off guard, but quickly pushed myself up, wresting my arm out of his grasp. As I straightened, someone in the crowd shouted, “That’s not a man, that’s a woman!” I reached up to my face to discover that my goatee had fallen off in the scuffle.

Excited whispers exploded from the crowd, and I used their shock as an opportunity to barge through them. I walked by Owen, Quinn, and Amber, hissing, “Get to the boat,” before I heard someone from the crowd shouting, “Get her!”

Then I started running, leading the forming mob away from the three of them and deeper into the twisting warehouses. I could already hear several people in pursuit as I hooked a hard right down one of the narrow alleys.

I had bought myself only a matter of seconds before the whole crowd began the chase. I needed to get a bigger lead on them and lose them in the sprawling warehouse area, but it was going to be hard. Over fifty people had seen me, and by now, the news would be spreading like wildfire to the other people in the street. If I couldn’t make it to the boat in time, I was as good as dead.

I kept an eye out as I ran, looking for somewhere, anywhere, I could hide or disappear from sight long enough to lose the group directly behind me. I hooked another hard turn—left this time—and followed the alley thirty feet before turning right again.

The road before me extended another forty feet before ending in a brick wall. For a second I panicked, but then I caught sight of a few stacked trash units. Without slowing down or pausing, I raced toward the wall and leapt up onto the trash containers, praying they were full. If they had been empty, my weight would’ve likely thrown them off balance, crashing me to the ground. Luckily, they weren’t, and I quickly grabbed the top of the wall and pulled myself over.

As I slid down the other side, I caught a glimpse of the men chasing me and let go quickly, my feet hitting the ground. I heard them shouting at each other as I made a left turn into an adjoining alley. This alley was filled with small doors, which were beginning to open as the curious people who lived inside came out to see what the commotion was about.

I ducked and weaved through the people, barely losing any momentum. About halfway down the street, I saw what I needed—a ladder hanging off one of the taller warehouse buildings. As quickly as I could, I moved toward it