The Gender End Bella Forrest (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📖

From around the corner where the retinue couldn’t see my floating backpack, Morgan fed me instructions. I followed, my path surprisingly free of any people. Maybe it was because the queen was moving through, but it was definitely eerie. I could hear her talking ahead, but I couldn’t make out her words as I crept along the corridor, adrenaline pumping in my chest.

It felt nerve-wracking, just plain wrong. I kept expecting a trap, or somebody coming around the corner, but there was no one. Certainly they had installed thermal cameras. Morgan might be close enough to look like a stray guard in thermals, but if they showed the live footage of the hall at the same time, it would become obvious something was up. The palace had to have noticed by now… So where were they?

My muscles burned and began to shake as I continued to follow the processional, close enough to hear it, but not so close that I could see it. I knew I didn’t have long before I would have to stop—my stamina for using the suit wasn’t even close to what it had been before my fight with Tabitha. We needed to get there soon, or I was going to give everything away. The people watching the cameras weren’t so incompetent that they’d miss a girl dressed all wrong running around the halls this close to the queen.

Violet, they’re slowing down. There’s a room off to the right side of the hall, the door slightly open. I’m in there. Morgan’s voice came suddenly, but I felt a wave of relief as I picked up the pace a little. It was risky—once again, the bag was visible—but my control over the suit was going to give out. Soon. The pins and needles in my muscles were being replaced with straight up loose numbness. Never a good sign.

I kept moving straight, and then stepped into the room. I held my muscles tense for a few seconds more, slowly pushing the door closed but leaving it slightly ajar. I heard Elena’s voice through the crack, still muffled, and then my control gave out.

I reappeared instantly, my arms and legs burning fiercely as the feeling returned to them. Exhaling, I began shaking my arms and legs out, turning and looking around the room. Morgan appeared behind a wooden desk and looked at me quizzically.

Are you okay? she mouthed, her voice buzzing through the earbud.

I should be asking you that question, I replied, wiping my forearm against my forehead and grimacing when it came back slick with sweat.

Her face was exceptionally pale, right down to her lips, but she didn’t miss a beat as she began pulling objects from her pocket.

I’m fine. It was a transparent lie, but I understood it. This is the nursery, and we’re right outside the safe room. She’s got Sierra in there.

And sixteen guards, I reminded her. You want to use the concussive grenade and go in shooting?

She hesitated. It could work… but we can’t risk Sierra getting hit by the blast.

I really don’t see any other way, I replied honestly. Do you?

Morgan hesitated a moment more, and then nodded grimly.

With my enhancement, I should be able to direct everything away from her. Desmond used to train us for scenarios like this. Just keep an eye out for her, too, please… I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.

I thought of Tim, then of Morgan’s past, and knew what the young woman must be feeling.

Of course.

Then we have to move now. She’s got an escape plan, and if she and Sierra manage to get out of here…

She trailed off, but I could finish her sentence for her: If Elena got out of the palace before we could get to her, then she would win. If she escaped, she could pull back and muster her forces to crush us, using the boys as the final insult and injury all at once. We were running out of resources, and morale was low. There was no way Patrus could mount an offensive sufficient to stop her. This was it.

Let’s do it, I said, and Morgan nodded. We moved back over to the door, and I began to push it open.

Then a familiar roar bellowed down the hallway, and I froze before quickly ducking back. Heavy footsteps pounded toward us, and I closed my eyes, praying that the berserk boys from below didn’t have a way of tracking Morgan and me.

Suddenly the footsteps doubled, and then tripled, and I heard a lower roar sound out as the fast-moving footsteps raced by, a shadow cutting over the crack in the door so fast it looked like a bat hunting insects in front of a lamp, always too fast to clearly spot any discernable features.

A heartbeat later, gunfire erupted loudly from the next room, and one of the berserkers—if that was what they were—gave a throaty roar of rage. Screams and shouts echoed out amid the gunfire, and Morgan and I ducked as a bullets cut through the wall to the left of us. The bullet holes were several feet away from us, but it was still unnerving enough to make us stay down.

We stayed like that as the sounds of panic increased, Morgan’s grip on my arm tightening as the altercation gave no sound of stopping.

Sierra! she transmitted as I turned to look at her.

She stood suddenly, gun in her hand, and pulled open the door, stepping through and going invisible. I watched for a moment, and then shook away the surprise the boys’ entrance had caused, rising to follow Morgan.

The gunfire had all but stopped at this point, and as I swung around the corner, I could see why.

One of the boys was down, blood pooling around him as he twitched on the ground. Another was obviously wounded, but seemingly oblivious to it, as he continuously drove his fists into the pulped remains of a warden’s head. I shuddered