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

over. “Data doesn’t move quickly enough—there are restrictions to it—I time out and have to start all over again. It’s impossible from here.”

“If we crossed the border, could you do it from over there?”

“Of course I could… o-over there, you said?” Thomas spun in the chair, his eyes wide and almost childlike with alarm. “In Matrus, you mean?”

I nodded, and Thomas immediately began shaking his head. “Oh no! I’m not going over there! That’s where Desmond is. Do you have any idea what she’ll do if she finds me? I’m not going there, no thank you!”

I scratched the back of my neck and grimaced. “You might not have a choice. We need to find any stockpiles she might have there first, because that’s the closest to where she’s keeping the boys.” In our exhaustive planning meeting several nights ago, the group of us had finally figured that this was our best bet.

Thomas was unmoved. “You need to find those stockpiles. I need to stay here.”

“But more and more people will die if we don’t do this!” I argued, appalled by his blasé attitude.

Thomas gave me a cold look. “Better them than me,” he retorted. And with that, he turned back around and began going through things again. I opened my mouth to explain to him that there was a ‘we,’ and that yes, he was going to help us, like it or not, when a knock sounded on the door.

I turned and saw Owen standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard… bickering?”

I stood up, relieved beyond words that Owen was there. “Excellent timing,” I said, standing up from where I had been perched on a desk behind Thomas. “I need you to explain to Thomas that if we go into Matrus, he’s coming with us.”

Owen just sighed resignedly, not surprised by the situation at all, and I clapped him on the shoulder and pushed past him, leaving him to deal with the Thomas situation. I wasn’t sure what Owen had done to earn that level of consideration from Thomas, but I was prepared to create and award him a medal for being able to endure what I could not.

“Thomas,” I heard Owen say as I left the room, “do you have any intel about Amber? And what’s all this about not coming to Matrus with us?” I quickly tuned out the reply.

I paused in the dining room, taking a moment to collect my wits from that very trying and irritating conversation. Then I noticed Ms. Dale sitting in the corner, perched on one of the serving tables. Her eyes and nose were red, and I could tell she had been crying.

I stood up and moved over to her, her sniffle tearing me apart a little inside. It wasn’t that she was crying; I knew her well enough by now to know she had the capacity to show real emotion. No, it was from the fact that she was trying to hide it.

“Hey, Melissa,” I said softly, as I settled in next to her. “How is he?”

Ms. Dale looked down at the floor, her hands grasping hard at the edge of the table. “Don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Doctor chased me out.”

I sighed and reached over, putting my arm over her shoulder. She gave me a confused look, and I rolled my eyes, but drew her closer in to my side. “It’s a thing people do to offer comfort, Melissa,” I chided her teasingly.

She gave me a glare out the corner of her eye, but didn’t push my arm away. “I know,” she murmured, dabbing at her eye with the shredded remains of a tissue. “I used to be a pretty good spy, remember?”

“Yeah… whatever happened with that?” I joked, and then winced when she playfully punched me in the shoulder. “Not the face,” I said, holding up my hand in defense when she pulled back for another blow. “It’s Violet’s favorite part!”

I lowered my hand enough to see that Ms. Dale was again crying, and I squeezed her closer, wrapping my arm around her. I wasn’t sure what I had said that had set her off, but it was probably to do with mentioning Violet. Maybe it was that Violet and I still had each other, while she had just started to feel that way for somebody that she might be about to lose. Whatever it was, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered, and she jerked away a little, a mulish stamp of incredulity on her face.

“No, it won’t,” she retorted harshly. “There’s so much damage, Viggo. We thought it was one and done, but the damn bullet ricocheted. Inside him.” Her voice broke then, and I pulled her closer to me again, until she was sobbing onto my shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Melissa,” I whispered. “I really hope he pulls through. He’s a tough man.”

She sniffled, her shoulders stilling under my hands, and I felt her pull away again. “I hope he does too,” she said. “I was just… I was just getting to know him. God, I never thought I’d feel this way about a P…” She trailed off, her eyes meeting mine in alarm, and I had to smile, remembering how far I had come with this hostile woman.

“Patrian?” I teased, amused even more when she flushed bright red. “It’s all right—he’s still a Patrian, and so am I.”

“I know,” she sniffed. “I just… I always thought your kind were so…”

“Arrogant?” I supplied. It was her favorite nickname for me, after all.

“Presumptuous,” she replied tartly. “But Henrik… he was just so… kind. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was kind of leading him on when he was supposed to be guarding me in the cell. But… he was just so respectful, you know?”

I chuckled, but the image of Ms. Dale leading anyone on was so foreign that I couldn’t imagine it. And in some ways, it was better that I didn’t. Then the weird