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

My arms were still aching from earlier, but I pulled myself up and climbed to the roof. I had just swung one leg over the ledge when the pack of men chasing me finally caught up. I pressed my cheek to the rooftop and held my breath, praying they didn’t look up.

Their footsteps thundered on the pavement below me without stopping, and I exhaled. Pulling my backpack around, I grabbed the subvocalizing caller and earbud from where I had packed them earlier. Thomas had assured us they were still functional, and I had to hope that Owen had already put his on during the commotion and was waiting to hear from me.

Owen? I called.

Yeah. Where are you? Are you okay?

I pulled out the handheld from where I had tucked it in my pocket and brought up my location, studying the map.

I’m about ten minutes from the boat. How are you guys doing?

He grunted. We’re about three minutes out. Your distraction has pretty much cleared the way, but…

Am I going to be able to make it?

Yeah.

I scanned the streets. More and more people were starting to fill them, with packs of men shouting something at each other.

I can’t use the streets. They’re alerting everyone.

The sewers are out too—you’ll fall into the river if you’re not careful.

I studied the rooftops—most of them were pressed together, with barely a foot of space between them. I stood up.

I-I’ve got an idea. If it works, I’ll get to you a lot faster.

Okay—I’ll hold the boat as long as I can. Just get to the docks fast.

Slinging my backpack once again over my shoulders, I tightened the straps. The roofs were slanted, but not steep. If I was careful and watched my footing, I should be able to run across the rooftops.

Even as I had the thought, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed me, and I carefully lowered myself back down again. Tilting my head up so that my jaw ran parallel to the roof, I focused my gaze on the horizon. It was a trick that I used every time I went down to the lowest level of the facility. There was no floor there—just a deep pit of open space that threatened to swallow me up. Yet, even there, I could count on a handrail and a level walking surface.

Taking a measured breath, I willed myself to stand, ignoring the precarious flip-flopping of my stomach as I stared out over the rooftops in front of me. I summoned up an image of Viggo, picturing him in my shoes, and then exhaled, taking a slow step forward. Then another.

Cautiously, I moved a few feet down the ridge of the roof, my arms extended to help me keep balance. The smoke coming from the chimneys of people’s houses made the air a little polluted, but if I put enough distance between them and myself, I’d be okay.

As long as I didn’t look down.

I eyed the gap between this warehouse and the roof of the building a few feet below it. The gap was about a foot and a half wide—I could step across it if I wanted to… Before my rational mind could register that fact, I started running. I was already across the gap by the time it caught up, moving at a fast jog across the rooftops. I leapt over the small gaps between houses, the fear in my throat morphing into a sense of exhilaration as I picked up speed. Running on the streets or through The Green had nothing on this—it was exciting and dangerous, causing my adrenaline to pump and my heart to soar.

I saw the wide gap as I approached it, my eyes glimpsing the pavement below. It was likely one of the bigger streets. I thought my vertigo would kick in and I slowed in anticipation to the dizziness, but when it didn’t manifest, I grinned, pouring on more speed. I approached the gap, gathered myself, and leapt out into the void between the two buildings, resisting the urge to whoop when my boots planted on the other side.

I continued picking my way across the rooftops at a high pace, slowing down only when I made it to the docks. I walked up to the edge of the roof and scanned the docks on the pier. I could make out Alejandro’s boat about a hundred feet away. Looking at the area immediately below me, I saw stacks of crates I could climb down.

Owen, I see you and the boat. I’m on my way to you—start casting off.

Got it, he replied.

I watched as he and Alejandro started throwing lines off the boat and began to climb down the crates when a flood of people erupted from the alley on my right.

“There she is!” someone shouted and I lost my grip, crashing through a crate.

I was stunned for a moment but I sat up quickly, brushing off pieces of wood. The crowd began to close in, and I leapt to my feet, sprinting for Alejandro’s boat.

There was a crack of a gunshot, and I winced, veering left, and then right.

Owen was frantically waving me forward, and I saw the glint of the gun in his hand as he leveled it at the crowd.

Don’t, I implored him over the subvocalizer. He lowered his gun a fraction of an inch and I sprinted faster, my arms and legs a blur. My lungs were heaving from the strain, and I could see the boat drifting further and further away.

With a roar, I planted a foot on one of the mooring beams on the dock and leapt with all my strength toward the boat. I grabbed hold of the railing, my body slamming hard into the hull, the murky water of the river churning barely a foot under my feet.

I gasped for air as Owen leaned over, grabbing my wrists and yanking hard. I pulled myself up, helping him assist me. Within seconds, I was sprawled out on