The Gender War (The Gender Game #4) Bella Forrest (best summer reads .txt) 📖

my left hand wildly and pulled the trigger, barely even looking—I was such a bad shot with my left hand that it hardly mattered. I dipped and weaved through the construction debris, bullets zinging around me, and before I knew it my feet were on the pavement and I darted behind the escort vehicle to catch my breath.

I looked around and realized I’d made it closer than anyone I could see—Ms. Dale and Henrik had peeled off to take up defensible positions in the construction zone. I didn’t know where Viggo was. I could see that Ms. Dale was in the worst position to defend herself, ducked down behind a couple of overturned signs at an angle that would make her easy to hit.

Now that I was in the middle of the tunnel, I could see the whole scene in the tunnel’s eerie yellow light. Along the low metal barriers the king’s guard had set up, men crouched low, firing in bursts. As I watched, a guard popped up and fired at Ms. Dale’s vulnerable position.

She ducked down low, caught my eye, and gave me a signal—covering fire. I leaned out over the hood of the vehicle I hid behind, unloading several rounds in the direction of the shooters. They ducked, and Ms. Dale immediately leapt over the pile of signs, heading for Henrik’s position behind a sand barrel, closer to me. But then one guard stood and began unloading at her as she ran.

One shot hit close enough to her that she recoiled and lost her footing, going down in a tumble and barely managing to roll to her knees—with her gun still on the ground. I fired wildly toward her attacker, cursing my left hand, as the guard sighted in on her—and then Henrik was standing over her, his legs splayed as he fired with straight and true aim.

The guard’s body jerked with the impact of the bullets, and he dropped to the ground.

“MOVE!” I heard Viggo’s voice bellowing from across the tunnel. Amidst all the chaos, I was glad to hear Samuel barking from where we’d left him in the cab, confirming that Viggo, at least, had made it to the truck.

I scrambled to my feet and unloaded round after round, expending the magazine as I crossed the empty lane and entered the construction zone the truck was in. I crouched behind a piece of debris to reload. It was awkward—a spike of pain pulsed through my right hand when I tried to slap the cartridge in, so I wound up pressing the gun down on my knee until I felt it click, locking into place.

I silently thanked Ms. Dale and Henrik, who had moved closer and were firing round after round in the direction of two guards who were hiding behind their partially constructed barricade. Under their cover, I vaulted the short concrete barrier between us and the truck, pulled my gun back up, and angled fire toward the attackers. Quinn, Amber, and Owen ran across the pavement, flanking Jay and Tim—the king still thrown limply over Jay’s shoulder. I heard Maxen grunt, and flinched when I heard what I could only presume to be the king’s body landing hard in the back of the truck.

“Into the truck!” I shouted as I unloaded a few more rounds, my left wrist starting to ache from the gun’s recoil. I stepped out farther, allowing Henrik and Ms. Dale to move past me and climb into the truck, then followed as they gave me covering fire.

Jay was leaning out of the tarp toward me, his hand held out for me to grab. Without thinking I slapped my right hand into his, and then screamed as it exploded in pain as he hauled me up, dragging me over the tailgate. He gave me an alarmed look, but, thankfully, didn’t let go.

Darkness engulfed my eyes under the shade of the tarp. Jay let me go as soon as I was through, and I crawled toward the front of the truck’s bed, clutching my forearm and trying not to vomit on the floor as the pain shot up my arm. It took me a minute to realize my eyes were watering from the pain, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop my body’s physical reactions and turn my mind toward the battle in which we were still embroiled.

Bullets were pinging off the tailgate and intermittently ripping through the tarp, and the back of the truck seemed filled with crouching bodies. As if from far away, I heard Ms. Dale taking a head count, then Henrik shouting at Viggo, “We’re all in! Let’s go!” Next to me, the unconscious king’s head lolled and bumped up and down as the truck roared into gear.

A dizzy thought spun through my mind. Have we really just kidnapped the king of Patrus?

By the time I slowly returned to my senses, we were careening down the tunnel, apparently having outstripped any pursuit. There had been several loud bangs early on, and I suspected these had been attacks against any vehicles that had tried to follow us. Beginning to get used to the dimness under the tarp, I noticed Owen, Amber, and Ms. Dale crouched behind the tailgate and Quinn, Tim, and Jay sitting in the middle of the bed. Quinn was digging through a backpack he’d been carrying. In a smaller truck it would have been a crowd, but this thing was so huge we had plenty of space.

I sucked in another deep breath, and then lurched upright, taking extra care to use my left hand to brace myself.

“You okay?” asked Jay from the middle of the bed, and I nodded weakly, still in too much pain to say anything. Viggo, at the wheel, was shouting at Henrik through the tiny back window that connected the cab with the bed. Since Henrik sat next to me, I tuned in, trying to get a handle on our situation.

“…the only way in or out? Didn’t you get