The Gender Lie (The Gender Game #3) Read online

  The Gender Game 3: The Gender Lie

  Bella Forrest

  Contents

  Map

  1. Violet

  2. Violet

  3. Violet

  4. Violet

  5. Violet

  6. Violet

  7. Violet

  8. Violet

  9. Violet

  10. Violet

  11. Violet

  12. Violet

  13. Violet

  14. Violet

  15. Violet

  16. Violet

  17. Viggo

  18. Violet

  19. Viggo

  20. Viggo

  21. Violet

  22. Violet

  23. Viggo

  24. Violet

  25. Viggo

  26. Violet

  27. Viggo

  28. Violet

  29. Viggo

  30. Violet

  31. Viggo

  32. Violet

  33. Viggo

  34. Violet

  35. Viggo

  36. Violet

  37. Viggo

  38. Violet

  39. Violet

  40. Violet

  Also by Bella Forrest

  Copyright © 2016 by Bella Forrest

  Nightlight Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Map

  1

  Violet

  The steady beep of the equipment monitoring Viggo’s vitals had become a soothing and constant reminder that he was still alive. I shifted in the chair that had become my second home and stared at his unconscious face, both here and miles away at the same time.

  When I had first sat by his bed, the beeps of the machine had felt like a metronome, counting down the minutes until he died. Every missed beat or change in rhythm would cause my heart to leap into my throat—out of both fear for the worst and hope for the best. By now, I was numb to it. I knew that there would be no change, no miraculous recovery, until we got the laser that was needed to seal the tear in his heart.

  The tear that he had put there while protecting me from the twin princesses of Matrus. He had used adrenaline patches to try to buy me time to escape and in doing so, his heart had given out. He would have died, if not for the intervention of a group whom I’d since learned called themselves the Liberators—run by Desmond Bertrand, former spy of Matrus.

  When I first met Desmond, I didn’t know whether to trust her or not. She seemed honest and allowed me to stay, promising to help me with Viggo and Tim if I would consider joining her side in a war against Matrus. But then again, her son had seemed honest, and he had tried to kill me.

  Still, Desmond’s offer was tempting. Matrus hadn’t done me any favors in the last eight years, and after all I had been through, I was in no rush to return—especially since I was being blamed for Queen Rina and Mr. Jenks’ deaths.

  My eyes glazed over as I stared at Viggo’s chest, and my thoughts wandered to my brother. So much had changed in him during the years he’d been used as a guinea pig with the other lost boys of Matrus, as my homeland had tried to turn them into a better breed of human. Enhanced speed, strength, endurance, intelligence—all tested here in this hidden facility within The Green.

  When Tim fought with Marina, he had held his own with her for several minutes because of his enhancement. It was why I had assumed he possessed the same enhancement as hers: Strength. But after looking at a file pilfered from Mr. Jenks’ lab, I learned differently. It was Tim’s reflexes that had been enhanced, making him able to react faster than a normal person.

  All the enhancements came with a price, however. I had discovered that Tim’s was tactile sensitivity—everything that touched him hurt him in some way. Even his clothes caused discomfort. He was also dealing with years of isolation and trauma due to the so-called stress tests that Mr. Jenks had designed to test the boys’ limitations and weaknesses.

  It was lucky for Mr. Jenks that Lee cut his throat. If he were still alive, I would’ve done a lot worse to him.

  And to Queen Rina, considering she allowed her unborn children to be among the first experiments.

  As my mind returned once again to our narrow survival of the twins’ attack, I frowned, thinking of Ms. Dale. Desmond kept her locked in one of the cells that had been empty, and I hadn’t seen her since that day. I had asked about her more than twice, but Desmond had warned me that Ms. Dale was their enemy. I had tried to argue on my old teacher’s behalf, but my words fell on deaf ears, and I needed to be cautious when it came to Desmond. She had the power to keep me off the mission to procure Viggo’s cure, so I had resigned myself to keeping my mouth shut and my ears open.

  Although, given what I had learned about the Liberators, they all seemed… reasonable. They were people, just like Viggo and me, who had found out their government was lying to them. The majority of them were from Matrus, but there were a few here and there—mostly women—from Patrus.

  All were disillusioned like me, but I had been a pawn in this game for far too long—which was why I didn’t want to join Desmond’s rebel faction. I didn’t believe that there was any way to win a war with Matrus, let alone start one, so I had kept my mouth shut and fended off her requests to make me a full member. I’d told her that at the moment, I was only concerned about Viggo, and making him well.

  But, if I was truly honest with myself, I was starting to like Desmond.

  She was brusque, but fair. Her orders were rarely ever refused, but when they were, she opened her door to whomever had problems with them, and heard them out. Sometimes she even changed her mind when a good argument was presented. It didn’t happen often, but I had seen it once with Owen—the young man who’d tried to kidnap me in The Green—and it impressed me.

  Tearing myself away from my thoughts, I refocused my eyes on Viggo. I had come here to tell him that I was leaving.

  Reaching out a hand, I smoothed a lock of hair from his face. I still didn’t feel ready to say goodbye—even if it was to depart on the mission to procure the object that could heal him.

  As much as I was excited, I felt nervous for several reasons—the first and foremost of which was leaving Viggo and my brother behind for any amount of time. I was entrusting their well-being to others—something I wasn’t remotely comfortable with. My imagination kept running amok, visualizing worst-case scenarios that could take place in my absence.

  It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to push my worries aside and remind myself that what I was doing, I was doing for Viggo. I had waited too long for this mission, and I couldn’t falter now. Not with his life on the line.

  Desmond had located a warehouse in Patrus that had exactly the type of laser we were looking for, and if we did things right, Patrus wouldn’t even know it was missing. So, I was going into Patrus, where I was wanted as a terrorist. I was just glad I wasn’t going alone.

  Desmond had made good on her promise. For two weeks, I had trained side by side with a small team of Liberators. Owen was serving as the de facto leader of our group. When he had grabbed me in The Green, I had thought him some man-snake creature, but in reality, I had been reacting to the suit he wore. A suit that allowed him to move undetected. It was one of the most advanced forms of camouflage I had ever seen—and they had trained me to use one.

  Owen was clearly Desmond’s second-in-command, which was interesting, due to his Matrian status and his young age—he was barely older than me. It had taken me a while, b
ut I’d come to realize that I actually liked Owen—he could be annoying at times, too jovial, but he had a good sense of leadership.

  Besides Owen and myself, there were three others joining us.

  Amber—who was a bit younger than me, with curly orange-red hair that she cut artfully by shaving the sides of her head while keeping a thick curly mop on top. She was outgoing and upbeat, but I had learned that she had originally escaped from Patrus, where her father had ‘sold’ her to a wealthy man to pay off his debts.

  Then there was Solomon. When I had first met him, he had been incredibly intimidating—taller and broader than Viggo, roped with muscles that seemed ready to burst. Everything about him seemed dark, from the duskiness of his skin and the deep inky black of his hair and beard, to his intense black eyes. He gave off a dangerous vibe and I had kept my distance until I had heard him laugh— a rich, joyful sound—after which I’d realized he was a kind and considerate individual. He had gone out of his way to bring Tim little gifts like softer clothes that wouldn’t irritate his skin, and pilfered cookies his mother Meera (who was a cook for the Liberators) had made. Solomon’s own little brother was a failed test subject and a captive of the facility.

  Lastly, there was Quinn, whom I knew little about except that he didn’t have any family among the Liberators, and was a little older than Tim. He kept mostly to himself but seemed nice enough, if not a little excitable.

  Having spent the last couple of weeks going through training with the team, I felt reasonably confident that we could work together. That didn’t stop me from feeling nervous that I was leaving for an undetermined length of time though. Anything could happen while I was gone.

  But Viggo’s condition was steady and sure—just like him—and I had to believe he would remain that way. I couldn’t accept anything less than success on this mission, because the thought of losing him was too painful to even contemplate. It amazed me how far we had come, given our sordid history, and I wasn’t ready for it to end.

  I wouldn’t let it end.

  With that thought, I stood and moved closer to him, resting a hip on the bed near his elbow.

  “As far as I see it, you’ve saved my life a total of four times,” I said conversationally to him. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I didn’t care. Talking to him made me feel better, and I liked believing that he did hear me. That somehow my voice was able to penetrate his dreamless coma, and remind him that there was someone waiting for him to come back. It was romantic drivel, but sometimes that was the best kind of drivel to hold onto.

  “Once with the Porteque gang, twice with the centipedes (though I still think it counts as once) and once with the princesses. And I’ve saved your life three times. Once with the red flies and twice with the same princesses. Now, any good Matrian will tell you that being in debt to a Patrian is the worst fate imaginable, but truthfully, I don’t mind. However, given that you essentially—and stupidly, I might add—put yourself into a coma for me, you’ve set the bar way too high. Well… challenge accepted. I’m going to break into a country that restricts female movements, break into a warehouse, get what you need, and bring it back for you. And then… I’m going to kiss you right before you wake up, just so that I can tell everyone you’re my princess. Then, it’ll be your turn to top that.”

  I smiled at my stupid speech, knowing that if Viggo was awake, he would offer some dry comment that would cut through it.

  I was beyond anxious to have him back—I craved the strength of his arms as he held me, and the surety of his heartbeat under my ear. More than that, I craved the way he just listened. He didn’t always agree with me, but he did listen to me just as I listened to him. We were a great team, and he was a person I truly viewed as a partner.

  I heard the door swing open behind me and turned toward it. Owen was standing there.

  “Everyone’s getting ready in the antechamber,” he said softly, and I could tell he felt bad about intruding on my moment with Viggo.

  I nodded and he swung the door closed behind him. I turned back to Viggo and studied his face, trying to commit every line and angle to memory. “I’ll be back for you,” I whispered. “Just please… don’t give up. Stay here. Wait for me.”

  The machines chirped in response. Leaning over, I carefully positioned myself over him and pressed my lips against his.

  Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I scooped up my pack and headed for the door.

  2

  Violet

  I turned left and moved toward the antechamber. This level was the only one above ground and featured an airlock for entrance and exit. It was the only way in or out of the facility, although a few of the engineers who worked with Desmond insisted there would have to be ventilation ducts that could serve as exits if the top level was ever compromised. I hadn’t heard if they had found them, but so far it hadn’t been a problem.

  Owen was holding open the door for me and I could see Quinn, Amber, and Solomon already inside. I stepped through the door with a nod to Owen. He offered me a smile and a nod of his own.

  Amber and Quinn were busy organizing all of the packs. I recognized most of the equipment that they were packing, my eyes running over and cataloging it. My own pack was mostly empty—I had left the false egg that was in my possession behind in my wardrobe and made Tim promise to keep a close eye on it—but I had grabbed the key to the real egg. I had found a chain buried in the back of a drawer in one of the rooms, and now it was hanging under my suit, pressed against my skin.

  Quinn shot me an enthusiastic look and I sighed, steeling myself. This was a fundamental worry I had—Quinn and Amber had never been on a mission before, and I was nervous that their inexperience would get us into trouble. I couldn’t afford for there to be any screw-ups in getting the laser.

  The room was silent while everyone put their gear together. Amber handed me a few items—a handgun, some silver canisters, a face mask, and a few cans of food. I frowned, calculating how much food we were packing versus how many days it would take to walk out of The Green, and I felt certain it wasn’t enough.

  I shot a questioning gaze at Owen, but he returned a sly smile and shook his head. He knew that lack of information chafed at me, but I had to trust him enough not to make an issue out of it. He would tell me when he was ready. Besides, I was not going to jeopardize my position on the team by being argumentative. Not with Viggo’s life on the line.

  The four of them were in the process of strapping something over their forearms that I had never seen before. It was like a bracelet, except it wrapped around the wrist and just under the elbow. Two thin pieces held the two bracelets together, and there was a flexible piece that ran over the meat of the thumb and then across the palm of the hand, reconnecting on the other side. It was like a wire cage for their forearms.

  “What are those?” I asked, studying the strange contraption.

  Amber and Owen exchanged looks.

  “Remember that time I kidnapped you?” Owen asked.

  I let out a surprised laugh, and nodded. “You mean the time you tried?”

  That elicited a deep chuckle from Solomon and I met his grin with one of my own. I really did like Solomon. He had been one of the few people who had been kind to Tim, and tried treating him like a human being rather than a broken boy. It was hard, though—more often than not, Tim stayed in our room with Samuel, only ever venturing out at my insistence. The rest of the time he spent on the floor on his makeshift nest of pillows and blankets, curled up around the dog.

  It was harrowing seeing Tim struggle like that. I’d had several conversations with Desmond about how to help him, but there was not a lot on Mr. Jenks' computer that even speculated how to rehabilitate the boys. If anything, the scientist had remarked on the side-effects with clinical detachment.

  It made me furious to know that Mr. Jenks had dismissed the possibility of rehabilitation, or even developing some sort of medication to help them overcome their problems. Instead, he had focused on
trying to replicate his results with minimal side-effects in future children, and creating a pill that would activate the genes temporarily in a regular human. He hadn’t quite nailed the science, but after a long conversation with Desmond about it, I had asked her to destroy those pills, and she had agreed.

  Yet another reason I liked her. The pills Mr. Jenks had been developing could have helped her people immensely — but the pills were unstable, and might damage whoever took them. I knew she had toyed with the idea of having her own scientists try to fix the problems with the pills—she had told me as much—but I’d reminded her that anything that came from Mr. Jenks' research had been paid for in the blood of our loved ones, and she had taken that to heart, thanking me for reminding her about what was important.

  I turned my attention to Owen as he explained, “These things are what helped me swing you through the trees using the vines. They’re grip enhancers.”

  “Oh… Do I get a pair?” I asked.

  Owen shook his head, a flash of regret crossing his face. “They are more dangerous than the suit. Quite commonly, you can get radial fractures in the bones of your arms if you’re not careful. We normally start training on them at a lower setting, and it’s not something we can move quickly through, like the suits. They take months to master. But don’t worry… I can carry you again if need be.”

  He said this with a smile and a wink, but the thought of swinging through the vines again with his arm around my waist and the forest floor rushing up to meet us was too nauseating for me to register his good humor. I shuddered, shouldering my pack.

  We slipped our masks over our faces and then stepped into the antechamber. Quinn closed the door behind us and twisted the handle, sealing us in. Amber pressed the button on the opposite door, and there came a soft hiss as the chamber began to filter in the toxic air from outside, equalizing the room.