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

all I’d learned and witnessed of Matrus’ violence in the past few days, I still found it hard to believe that it had come to this.

I was tired by the time we reached the gates of the mansion, and I knew Viggo was even more exhausted. It had been an emotionally draining day. Which made what happened next even harder.

Amber and Quinn were waiting for us on the front lawn when we pulled up, several bags sitting on the ground in front of them. Viggo pulled to a stop just in front of the bags, nudged the kickstand down, and got off. I followed suit.

“We said our goodbyes to everyone else,” Amber said, her voice soft. “We were just waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” I said. I hadn’t quite known, when I had asked her to wait, if she was going to do it. I met their gazes, and what I saw in them hurt. For all I knew, this could be the last time I ever saw them. “I… I’m really going to miss you,” I said, after a pause.

Amber sniffled and scrubbed her nose. Beside her, Quinn’s face was the forecast of a storm to come. “We’re going to miss you too,” he said sincerely, and it almost broke my heart.

“Come here,” I said, pulling him in for a hug. He hugged me back, and we held each other for a long moment. “Please be careful out there.”

“I will,” he promised, and I let him go. Viggo was already waiting to shake his hand. I turned to Amber and sighed. “I… uh… hope we’re still friends,” I said, lamely, and Amber met my gaze, her lips turned up into a sad smile.

“Of course we are, Violet. At least I can tell everyone that you weren’t spies—you never were. Nope… you guys are just something else.”

I smiled, but the feeling was bittersweet. “Thanks for that,” I said. “Just… please be careful? Please? I know you are still conflicted, but if you see Desmond… will you run? Please?”

Amber thought about it for a second. “If you had asked me to kill her, I would’ve said no. But run… Yeah… I think I can do that.”

I pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t sure whether I was thanking her for telling the truth or for lying—or just for trying to ease my conscience—but I was grateful to her. For a thousand small reasons, too small and insignificant for anyone but me to appreciate. Well, me and Viggo.

Amber hesitated. “Actually, since we’re asking favors, could you…”

“Yes?”

“Tell my dad I’m leaving. And that he can still rot in hell.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’ll at least tell him the first part. The second, well…”

Amber chuckled darkly. “He knows.”

I stepped back a little and made room for Viggo to say his goodbyes. He was twirling the motorcycle keys around his finger, looking at her. She stared back, uncertainty etched lightly on her face. I heard the keys jingle one more time, and then Viggo tossed them at her, smiling when she snatched them out of the air.

“Take care of her,” he said, looking back at his motorcycle.

Amber’s eyes flicked to the bike, and she smiled broadly, twirling the keys around her finger just like Viggo had moments before. “Well, seeing as it’s mine now, I suppose I can take care of ‘him.’”

The two embraced, and then, too soon, they were gone, hurtling down the road, Amber driving and Quinn holding her tightly. I rested my head against Viggo’s shoulder and sighed.

I hated goodbyes.

22

Viggo

I jolted upright, gazing wildly around—awoken yet again by the beeping alert being piped through the speakers installed in the bed. Wiping my eyes to clear the sleep from them, I looked at the bed next to me. Violet was already up, and in the dark I could hear the faint sound of fabric on her skin, indicating she was quickly changing out of her sleeping clothes.

I got dressed in a hurry, pulling on pants and a shirt, and then we raced downstairs. No one was there to greet us, so we both headed down to the security room. I glanced at my watch—it was a little after midnight—and recalled that Ashabee, Jeff, and Jay were on watch for this shift.

As soon as we made it to the security room, my concern instantly mounted—Ashabee and Jeff were arguing, Ashabee shouting at his valet, with Jay frowning at them.

“—in you! You had no right to override my orders—you work for me!” Ashabee said as we pushed through the door.

Jeff glanced at me, his face once again an impassive mask that reflected nothing. But Jay looked angry. The young man kept opening his mouth as if to say something, then closing it so fast I was surprised his teeth didn’t clack together.

“What’s going on?” I demanded over Ashabee, who seemed oblivious to our presence.

“The perimeter alarms have been tripped,” Jeff supplied dryly. “Along the walls, just outside the property.”

“Who is it?” I asked, moving closer to the desk to peer at the monitors. The black-and-white video was grainy and hard to make out—the biggest flaw with the camera system was that it needed lots of light, but Ashabee hadn’t installed lights on the walls, save at the gate. It was a surprising oversight, considering the security system was otherwise so advanced, and we would have to rectify it if we were going to continue staying here.

“Who cares?” sneered Ashabee. “Jefferies should have never woken you—we have this perfectly under control.”

Jay was shaking his head, his lips turning downward in a frown. I ignored Ashabee, and turned to Jeff. “Any chance it could be a dog or some other animal?”

“Hmm,” Jeff murmured. “It is possible—we have dozens of false alarms a month due to animals, provided they are larger than a domesticated cat. However, it is unlikely. There are too many sensors being tripped, all at the same time.”

The computer beeped suddenly. I turned