The Gender Game 5 Bella Forrest (motivational novels for students txt) 📖

Desmond had plans and fallbacks and a calm, rational mind that could cut through any gamble we took almost before we could conceive it. Even if I was willing to make that sacrifice—something I couldn’t consider until I was fully functional again, at least—I wouldn’t do it unless we had a foolproof plan.

I felt Viggo place his hand on my shoulder, and without thinking, I reached up and took it, appreciating the support. After a heartbeat or two, I looked up and met Owen’s gaze. His expression morphed into one of regret when he met my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice coming out a whisper. “You’re right, of course. I just…” His hands curled into fists as he trailed off, and then he shook his head. “I don’t think I should be here right now. I’m… I’m going to go get some air.”

We watched as he left, walking out of the room with sharp, agitated steps, as if he had just lit a match and set the whole place on fire. As I watched him go, I couldn’t help but feel that, in a way, he had. But instead of being angry, now it just made me feel worse for the choices before him. As much as it made my heart ache, there was nothing I could do for him right now. I knew, better than most, that this was a fight he had to face himself.

Sighing, I turned back to the others. “We have some pieces of a good plan here,” I said. “I think we should move forward with seeing if we can duplicate the identification papers. Ms. Dale, are you okay with finding a woman to send out to get her papers?”

Ms. Dale nodded her assent. Everyone else seemed to agree wordlessly, and I noticed Amber and Thomas’ eyes were still trained on the door. The plan wasn’t optimal, and neither were any of our states of mind… but I had hopes for this mission. To me, this conflict was like a series of walls. If we broke enough of them down, we would eventually get to Desmond and Elena. By then, I hoped we would have the weight of the people behind us. And hopefully, my dearly bought video would be the catalyst.

30

Viggo

Ian was struggling beneath me, his eye bulging as I tightened my hands around his throat. He kicked furiously, his little arms fruitlessly trying to push my weight off him, and I smiled and pressed my hands deeper into his neck, tightening them as he gagged for air. I felt his heart beating against my chest, light and fast, like a bird’s wings flapping, harder, faster, until…

I jerked awake, my heart pounding and my breath coming in sharp, agonized pants. Sweat dotted my forehead, and in the cool of night, it chilled my skin. I looked over to where Violet lay sleeping on her side, her back to me, the fuzz of newly growing hair on her head just visible in the pale light from the window. She let out a soft snore and tossed fitfully, turning toward me, and I sighed, trying to calm my pulse.

Slipping the blanket off my body, I moved out of her way just as her arm flopped over where my chest would’ve been had I remained in bed. I felt a pang of regret, but it did nothing to stop me from standing up. Moving over to the window, I grabbed my shirt from the back of a chair, using it to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Tossing it back over the chair, I pulled open the dresser in the corner of the room, grabbed another shirt I had pilfered from my cabin, and threw it over my head.

Looking out the window, I saw that the sun was finally coming up over the mountains. The yard was still gray in the pre-dawn light. My eyes immediately flicked over to where the guards were supposed to be standing post, checking to make sure none of them had drifted off or were out of position for any reason. They weren’t, and I leaned my hip against the desk near the window, accepting that my pitiful efforts at distracting myself from the nightmare haunting me for the last couple of hours had failed.

I looked around the room, feeling trapped by its bare, medical confines. My muscles itched, looking for something to do, and I had to leave. It wasn’t a desire, but a necessity.

As quietly as I could, I slipped out the door, pulling it closed behind me. I grabbed my jacket from the sofa in the main living area and slipped it onto my shoulders, thinking of heading to the barn. Maybe practicing some martial arts would help me…

I didn’t even know if I wanted anything to help. I just knew I felt the press of anxiety in my chest, and needed to do something productive—or else risk something worse happening. Training would help with that. If I kept training, maybe I could prevent something like this from happening in the future. It was a feeble thought, but it was the only thing I could cling to at the moment.

I pushed open the front door, my eyes focused on the barn. A light mist coated the ground, its vague curls already dissipating under the softly forming rays of the sun, but still thick enough to swirl around my ankles as I strode through it. As I walked, hands in my pockets to ward off the chill, I reminded myself to wrap my knuckles before striking anything. They were scabbed over from the night before last, and even forming a fist stung, but if I wrapped them today and took extra care, then they would be…

I did a double take, pausing in my inner monologue and looking back at the tree line my gaze had brushed in passing. My tired eyes hadn’t deceived