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

“Why?”

“Because! I spent all this time dwelling on Ms. Dale and how unjust it was, that… well… we didn’t talk about Thomas like we did Ms. Dale.”

“Thomas would’ve found that sort of thing in poor taste,” Amber announced, picking at her food again. “We talked about it once—I can’t for the life of me remember how we even got there—and he said it was the worst part of funerals. Everyone crying about who they lost and why they were important… It just wasn’t Thomas’ way.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss him,” Viggo said softly, and I looked over at him. He met my gaze, his eyes still red and filled with grief. “He saved all of our lives, and gave us every opportunity to put an end to all this madness.”

“Him and those damned odds,” Henrik said, tugging at his beard. “He and Melissa both… They just wanted to keep everyone safe, no matter what the odds. When they put their minds together…” He looked up, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “They were impossible to argue with.”

“Thomas was my best friend,” Owen added. “I could never understand why, but I… I loved him. And God, I miss him.”

“We all do,” I whispered. “Even me. I know he and I didn’t get off on the right foot, but…”

“He respected you a lot, Violet,” Owen interjected with a sniffle. “He might not have always shown it, but… We all know how he felt about emotional displays.”

We all chuckled, but it was a somber, short laugh, because it came coupled with the knowledge that we were never going to see Thomas again, never hear him quip about the flaws in our plans or the problems with emotional decision-making.

I exhaled sharply and leaned against Viggo, needing to touch him, to feel comforted. He leaned back into me, and we supported each other.

“Besides,” Owen added after a long moment, a gentle smile coming across his lips, “I feel like Thomas wouldn’t want us to dwell on the past. He’d instead want to bring up the future of Patrus, and want to know what the new chancellor has planned.”

“Oh God,” Viggo groaned, placing his face in his hands. “Why did you have to remind me?”

“I’m so sorry, Viggo,” I breathed, appalled that my grief last night had eclipsed that turn of events, but he shook his head at me. “Have you thought about it at all?”

“I did. Last night. I’m just… I’m still not sure what to think about it. I don’t think it’s right that you can get elected when you’re not even there.”

“I think it’s great,” Amber said casually, taking a sip from her mug. “I mean, I would’ve much preferred Mags, but seeing as we can’t break Patrus from its patriarchy too soon… you’re my second favorite.”

Viggo smiled at her. “Does that mean you’re coming back with us?”

“Of course! I’m not missing my opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a brand new government! I’m aiming for Spy Master.”

“You can’t just declare that loudly in front of half a dozen witnesses,” Logan laughed. “It kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what do you say, Viggo?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and giving him a wide smile.

“I’ll have to think about it,” he replied, and I felt a smile bloom on my lips—a real one. It was a moment of normalcy in the wake of turbulence, and I embraced it. Soon we’d be back in Patrus, ready to roll up our sleeves and put the country back together brick by brick. And with a little luck and a lot of love, we’d build something new and improved, ready to stand the test of time.

It was all we could do.

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Epilogue: Violet One Year Later

“Aren’t you ready yet?” shouted Viggo from the closet, and I ignored the question, staring at myself in the full-length mirror and adjusting my dress. I turned to one side, then the other, and sighed, running a hand over my stomach and pulling the loose yellow fabric down so that the small bump was more noticeable.

“Honestly, Violet, we need to be in the car in ten—” I looked up in the mirror and saw Viggo emerging from the closet, his hands busy tying a black bow tie around his throat. He smiled fondly at me and dropped the untied ends of the fabric, crossing over to me. I exhaled and leaned into his chest as his arms came around mine, his large hands pressing against my stomach.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed in my ear. “And frankly, I love that you’re starting to show. I couldn’t be more proud.”

I smiled and tilted my head to one side, and he planted a soft kiss to my cheek.

“I love you,” I told him.

I felt his smile as he pressed his lips to my cheek yet again. “I love you.”

He slid around to my side, pulling us together and looking at the image we presented in the mirror. It was hard not to see the subtle changes in both of us. We were both a little fuller—even though this past year had been rough—and a bit more rounded out. I had more flesh on my bones, but I was still fit, just… healthier. My skin was better, my hair growing in thick and shiny, my gray eyes luminous.

It didn’t change the fact both of us still had nightmares that would tear us from our sleep in a panic. But we talked about them, described them to each other, and it helped soften them over time.

The last nightmare I’d had was when I found out I was pregnant. I had been too stunned and surprised to bring it up with Viggo immediately, and had fallen asleep waiting for him to come up from one of his late-running council meetings.

In the dream, I had been back in The Green, lying there, unable to move as all the creatures closed in. And then pain began