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

my gaze back to it in time to see the camera angle change to the outside view of the gate as a throng of people suddenly moved into view, shuffling up to the gate. A few pressed in close to the right side, the one free of the boards Tim and Jay had installed earlier, and peered inside.

I watched as they turned, forming a circle. There were no speakers on the camera, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it seemed obvious that they were discussing whether or not they should enter.

I hesitated for a few seconds, and then turned to the others. “I bet they’re refugees,” I said. “We… we need to decide whether we should let them in or not.”

“Should I go get Henrik and Ms. Dale?” Jay asked, and I looked back at the camera.

“No time,” I replied.

“Well, we aren’t taking them in,” Ashabee said. I ignored him again.

“Let’s run through the pros and cons,” I said, keeping a careful eye on the camera. The group still appeared to be talking, although it looked as though some of them were moving closer to the gate.

“They are people, they need our help, and maybe a few of them might be willing to join the cause,” Violet said, leaning a hip against the desk. “We have enough food to last us a while.”

I nodded in agreement. “Cons?”

“There might be spies in the group, so letting them in could put the king in danger,” Jay said, shifting slightly on his feet. “Also, we have no idea if these people will help out around here or not. They could try to take this place from us if we aren’t careful. I mean… if they think they can.”

I exhaled and looked around the room. “Jay’s right—it’s risky letting strangers in. And if we do take them in, then we set a precedent for the next group. And the next group.”

“We have to recruit people from somewhere, Viggo,” Violet countered. “Not to mention, they need help.”

“I know, but—”

My gaze had strayed from the camera, and my attention from Ashabee, for too long.

“AHA! Those mongrels think they can get into my property, do they?” I whirled to see Ashabee glaring at the system, where the front lawn camera seemed to show a flicker of movement through the dim area. “Well, this’ll teach them!” And before I could even ask, Ashabee pressed something on the control panel, and the system beeped.

I grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling him back, just as bright flashes blasted across the screen showing the lawn camera, throwing a set of human figures into sharp relief for a moment, and the faint sound of machine gun fire filtered in through the walls. I scrambled behind the desk, searching desperately for a deactivate switch, and punched it, cutting the gunfire short.

My eyes leapt to the security cameras, looking for the angle I’d seen, but it had been replaced with another view. Frantically, I searched until I found another camera aimed at the front lawn. No light—and no movement. There still wasn’t enough ambient light for me to see anything. I stood up, pushing past an angrily sputtering Ashabee, and raced toward the front of the house, the blood pounding in my ears.

Outside, the night was cool and eerily still. I raced down the porch stairs, down the driveway, past the truck where Solomon was being held, and froze. It may have been too dark for the cameras, but under the dim light of the moon, I could see them.

People were lying on the grass on either side of the asphalt driveway—five on one side, three on the other. I took several steps forward, and then froze again. They were still. So very still.

I mechanically propelled myself forward. The grass was now under my feet, water droplets soaking my shoes, but I ignored it, my focus completely on the five people lying on the left side, not even looking yet at the other side of the lawn.

My eyes took in the men and women strewn across the grass, their faces reflecting the horror and surprise of their last moments, their bodies riddled with more bullet holes than I could count. One girl in particular caught my eye—she was on her stomach, unlike the others, one hand reaching back to the gate. How had they gotten in? The worst part… dear God, the worst part… was the steam coming from the bullet holes, from where their still-warm blood was reacting to the chill in the air.

I stood stock-still. The feeling going through me was more than rage. It didn’t have a name, but it was overpowering anything else in my mind. Pure reason was barely keeping me from running back into the house to exact terrible vengeance.

Where had the machine gun fire come from? It was obviously built into Ashabee’s system… I looked around in the moonlight and saw, built into the very stone walls that sheltered us, long metal panels. They looked like they might fold down at the press of a button, revealing a hidden artillery. I’d barely wondered what those could do when Tim, Jay, and I had been repairing the gate earlier. Now I wished I’d torn them all out.

I became aware of the sounds of panic coming from beyond the front gate. Names were being shouted urgently, followed by hushed and insistent tones. Someone was sobbing, a frightful keening sound that seared my heart, flaying it open wide.

I heard the sound of feet approaching, and turned, giving Violet a hollow look. Her hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide as she took in the dead. “Oh God,” she gasped.

She moved closer, dropping to her knees next to me, her face pale. I could see tears forming in her eyes, and when she met my gaze, I knew exactly what we had to do.

I climbed to my feet, reaching a hand down to Violet and pulling her up next to me. I led the way, pulling