The Girl Who Dared to Think by Bella Forrest (e reader for manga TXT) 📕

hand firmly on the handle of his stun baton—more a promise than a threat. His gaze slid around the room, and I frowned as his head swiveled. His cheeks were gaunt and hollow, and there were bags under his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. He looked like he’d been run ragged by something.

“Gerome?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay,” he announced. “I am clearer in my duties to the Tower. Scipio explained it to me: he told me we had all been tricked, even him. He wants me to correct the mistake.”

A chill ran down my spine at the words, and I took an instinctive step in front of Grey.

“Scipio spared him,” I reminded him. “You were there.”

“Scipio is great, Liana, but still just a computer,” Gerome said. “A computer that can be tricked.”

I blinked, my mouth going dry. This was getting more and more dangerous by the second. Gerome was either unhinged, or Scipio himself had sent him on this mad crusade. Either way, we weren’t getting out of it easily. I needed to be careful about how I proceeded. I needed to keep him talking while one of the three of us scrambled to act.

“If Scipio was tricked,” I said, “how was it done?”

With a languid motion, he gestured toward the rows of bottles. “What are those?” he asked.

Roark stepped in, his voice trembling with barely suppressed anger. “Antibiotics, mostly,” he said. “I was forced out of the Medica, but I’ve never been able to stop tinkering.”

Gerome’s lips twitched. “Tinkering,” he said, then turned back to me. “Tell me, Liana, what did you do to Silvan Wash?”

My hand was halfway to my baton before I could stop myself, but I quickly bypassed it to run the hand through my hair. “I don’t understand,” I said. “As I explained, I came here to file a report against Silvan Wash.”

Gerome rolled his eyes, an exaggerated motion that looked cartoonish on his normally stoic features.

“You know I’ve been following you,” he said calmly. “I’m sure you’ve already put the pieces together. If you haven’t, I’ll be very disappointed.”

I went still, a chilling calm coming over me. He really did know everything, and there was no creating doubt in him. Now was the time to stand up. “I did,” I told him. “But if you were following, and using the tensor, then you’ll know—”

“That you and your demented boyfriend tried to force a loyal citizen of the Tower to take your little drug and plan an assault on Scipio? Yes, I figured that out. What I couldn’t figure out was why you mutilated Citizen Wash’s wrists, and why he couldn’t remember anything. But before we finish here tonight, I’m going to find out.”

His baton came out in a crackle of electricity, searing a blue streak into my eyes with its brilliance. He took a step toward Grey, who was still very much drugged, and I quickly moved in between them. “Gerome, please. If you saw his wrists, then you know that he has been doing it himself, for some time! We can talk about this,” I begged. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Get out of my way, Liana,” Gerome grated out, and a heartbeat later, he was drawing back his arm, the baton crackling menacingly over my head.

My baton was out and in my hand before I could even remember reaching for it, and I caught his baton with mine, my arm ringing in shock from the heavy weight of his blow. Sparks shot madly from where the electric ring made contact, but I ignored them and planted a boot in Gerome’s knee, bringing the man down to my side.

A flick of the wrist disarmed him, his baton bouncing to one side with a loud clatter. His hand snaked up and grabbed my wrist in a vice-like grip, though, and I gritted my teeth as he twisted it. The baton dropped from my nerveless fingers onto the floor, and he released me. I staggered back a few feet, my hand around my wrist, and then spun and brought my heel to his face. He swayed heavily to one side, threatening to tip over, but his kneeling position on the floor helped him keep his balance.

He glared up at me, his hand on his jaw, and I didn’t hesitate. I lashed out with a fist. He dodged it, rolling forward, and I whirled, lash already in my hand. I flicked out my wrist, hoping to hit him in the chest, but he swung out of the way. I let the harness reel me in and jumped into it as it snapped me toward the wall. I flipped, planted my feet on it, then snapped the next lash line out on the opposite end of the room. In a move I’d practiced a lot, I disconnected, kicked off, and retracted the new line all at the same time, building momentum.

Hurtling toward Gerome was a bit of an experience, but it was nothing compared to the moment of surprise I felt as he seemingly plucked me out of the air. I had a moment in which I was looking up at him, cradled in his massive arm, and then his mouth morphed into an angry shout as he slammed me to the ground.

The air left me in a giant whoosh, and my entire diaphragm locked up as I gasped for air. Then all I felt was pain radiating from my back, neck, ribs, and hips as my body struggled to remember how to breathe.

I came to a minute later to see Grey and Roark both grappling with Gerome, just a few feet away. The two men were holding onto one of the Knight’s arms, which I now saw contained a stun baton, and Roark was struggling to inject something into Gerome’s arm, fighting against Gerome’s massive strength as he tried to drive it point blank into Grey’s chest.

I watched in horror as Grey let out a hoarse cry of pain when Gerome’s