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

number in the hundreds, Viggo. Not thousands. They are a small force who are just actively trying to make things right. To get their government to stop lying and using them and the people they care about. That’s what they’re fighting for. Not to kill people, but to save them.”

I shook my head. My knees were feeling wobbly—strangely more from this conversation than the exertion of the day. “It’s not our fight,” I said, after a pause. “We should just go.”

Violet tsked, crossing her arms. “How can you say that? You just started with the boys, and now you want to abandon them? And where would we go, knowing what we know and having seen what we’ve seen?”

I opened my mouth, and then shut it, uncertain of how to even formulate a response to her questions. They were valid. I certainly did not want to abandon the boys. I also didn’t know where we could go that would be safe. Our options were extremely limited.

But I still didn’t want to condone Desmond’s plan. “I will never agree that starting a war between the two is the right course of action. I may not have a better plan, but this one… Violet, it crosses the line.”

Violet gave a sad toss of her head, her jaw tight. “Maybe it does,” she said. “But they crossed the line first.”

With that, she pushed herself off the locker and headed for the door. “I’ll bring supper to our room,” she murmured as she stepped out. Not looking back, she closed the door between us.

I watched her go, and then shook my head and placed my face in my hands, feeling lost and confused.

After a few minutes, I remembered I was on the verge of being late to meet with Ms. Dale. I doubted Desmond would be understanding of my tardiness. It wouldn’t surprise me if she just flat out refused to let me see her if I wasn’t punctual.

I dressed slowly, not by choice, but by the sheer fact that I was still struggling to do simple actions in any timely manner. It only added to my frustration, however, and I reminded myself that I needed to take it slow. It was hard, though—I couldn’t believe what Violet had been saying.

I gingerly pushed myself off the bench, using my arms to help me get into a standing position. I took slow, careful steps to the door and threw it open, moving slowly but deliberately to the stairs.

As I walked, I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with everyone. People must have sensed my mood, because I was aware that there seemed to be a five-foot bubble around me that was keeping people out of my way.

Which was good; solitude suited my current mood. That wasn’t entirely accurate, as there was one person I wanted to talk to more than anything. But seeing as she and I were in the middle of an argument, I would have to settle for the next best thing.

Or worse, depending on my point of view.

My footsteps were quiet on the catwalk as I slowly moved down the aisle, leaning heavily on the rail for support. I had to stop more than a few times to catch my breath and rest my legs, but slowly and surely, I kept going. At this time of night, the catwalks were mostly deserted, which I was grateful for.

I made my way down several rows before taking a left turn down one and moving halfway along it. The ramp was already extended, waiting for me, and a guard was standing at the end of it. I nodded to him as I slowly moved forward.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said to him. “I’m still injured so I’m a bit slow.”

The guard was an older man whom I vaguely recognized from one of Violet’s many introductions. He had a cut on his head that was still healing, and it took me a second to remember this was Henrik, the man who had accidentally triggered Violet’s brother.

“Henrik, right?”

The older man nodded, giving me a tight smile behind his beard. “Indeed I am.”

I nodded to the cell. “She giving you any trouble?”

Henrik chuckled and shook his head. “Nah. She’s all right. I just wish…” he faltered, and I tilted my head to one side.

“What?” I asked.

Henrik waved a hand and shook his head. “Never mind. Not my place. You’re free to go in, Mr. Croft.”

I hesitated, torn between curiosity and going inside. After a moment, I chose to head inside, clapping Henrik on the shoulder as I passed by—I couldn’t make a man talk if he didn’t want to.

I slowly moved up the ramp, taking my sweet time, and then ducked into the room, practically collapsing on the floor as I landed. Sighing, I massaged my thighs and looked at Ms. Dale.

She had raised her head from where her arms were folded on her knees and gave me a surprised look.

“Patrian,” she said in greeting, and for some reason, I smiled.

“Matrian,” I replied, and she smiled in return.

“What brings you to my humble abode?” she asked.

I reached into my pocket and dug out my handheld, tossing it to her. She caught it, her gaze narrowing on me before turning to the patient files I had loaded on there.

“What’s this?” she asked, scrolling through the files.

“A job, if you want to get out of this cell,” I said.

Ms. Dale scoffed and shook her head, tossing the handheld back to me. “Desmond would never agree to that,” she announced.

I frowned. “So you know Desmond well, huh?”

She shot me a contemplative look. “You could say that. Did she really give you permission to let me out of this cage?”

I shrugged. “Kind of—you’ll still be in chains and have an armed escort at all times, but yeah.”

She scoffed again ruefully. “Interesting. How did you get her to agree to it, and why did you ask for me?”

I rolled my lips between my teeth, rubbing the stubble on my jaw while I contemplated