The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

Morgan blinked at me, and then seemed to sag in relief as she noticed the blonde man by the car. I could tell by her expression that she was in shock… or maybe just drained. It was hard to tell the difference these days.

“Thank God he’s okay,” she muttered, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “He drew off several of the enhanced Matrians. We were hopelessly outnumbered, and he shot at them and distracted their attention.”

I made an instant decision not to be mad about Owen abandoning his post as Violet’s bodyguard. I was sure he had done his best to keep Violet as safe as he could, all things considered. Besides, the man had been given an impossible task. The only way to keep Violet safe was to lock her up and throw away the key, and I would never ever let that happen to her, so it looked like a lifetime of reckless adventures for me. Not that I would complain—if we could just get her back from this latest one alive. I felt like praying to whatever was out there to keep her safe, but I felt even more like rushing after her as fast as I possibly could.

First things first. “They found Desmond’s body,” I informed Morgan quietly. “She was thrown from the heloship.”

“Good,” she replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Cody started to cry quietly, and Morgan’s face went from satisfied to mortified. Immediately she knelt down and pulled the boy into her arms, holding him and whispering softly to him. I watched them both as I waited for Thomas’ analysis on the radio, listening to her tell him that it was over, and by picking up bits of their conversation I caught on to the fact that Desmond had fired at Cody, turning the entire boy’s world upside down. My heart ached for him, but deep down, I was glad he had seen that darkness in Desmond before she had died. It would be good for him in the long run.

It was finally starting to process—like waking up and realizing the last night hadn’t been a dream, but a memory. God, I was so happy she was dead. Now that I’d had a taste of a moment of thinking of the world without Desmond Betrand’s evil schemes, I wouldn’t apologize for that happiness. That woman had been the source of all my troubles since I’d met Violet. Well, one of the sources—the other was still at large. I just hoped Violet was all right.

I also hoped Desmond had been bluffing about her threat with the boys, because if she wasn’t, we would have less than a week to find a way to rescue them or break Elena’s hold over them before her “people” started executing them. It had sounded like an absurd plea that she’d made when we’d kidnapped her, just to force us not to execute her—but with Desmond and Elena, we could never really be certain.

“I have a trajectory mapped out,” Thomas reported after a few long moments, snapping my attention back to the task at hand. “According to my calculations, if the ship was still flying on the heading Morgan pointed out, and using Desmond’s body as a reference… as long as the trajectory hasn’t changed, it would cross over a small part of the city in Matrus, and then… just keep going. Into The Outlands.”

The pit of my stomach dropped. I fought the urge to collapse. I couldn’t afford to—there was still time, either to stop Violet from getting out there… or just to follow her into it. There was still hope, too: Desmond’s body confirmed that Solomon had gotten on board, or at least that there had been struggle enough for someone on our side to get rid of her once and for all. The fact that nobody had reported a ship going down, and Owen hadn’t seen it either, meant they could still be flying. And even if we would have no way of knowing what was happening with the ship once they were past Matrus City, I had to go after her.

“Great,” I said. “Now what do we do about our gas problem?”

“Well, I have an idea,” said Henrik through the comm, and something in his tone hooked me immediately. His voice practically exuded the level of confidence I needed for this mission to succeed.

“I’m all ears, Henrik,” I replied, trying to keep the impatience from my voice.

“We can get it from the Matrians.”

“That’s brilliant, Henrik,” transmitted Ms. Dale. “The airfield is just over the river, so it should be within range of the fuel we have left, near the border between the city and The Green. It’s also more isolated, so it’s perfect.”

I paused, and then felt the corners of my mouth pull up, even as Vox came back on the line. “You’re insane!” he said. “That’s a suicide mission.”

“Not if it’s done right,” replied Amber calmly over the line. “Actually, I think it’s genius. Elena certainly wouldn’t see it coming, not so soon after we stopped her again. She’d be expecting us to try and put out fires here—”

“Something we should be doing,” added Drew, one of the other rebel leaders, into the comms. I looked over and saw him leaning against a truck sixty feet away, his arms crossed over his barrel of a chest.

“And we will be doing that,” said Henrik without worry. “We only need a small force of pilots to double as our assault force. Think about it, Logan. While we’re at it, we could steal some of their heloships and cripple the rest. That’ll keep Elena out of our hair for a little bit, and get us a bigger advantage for the next engagement.”

“My pilots are ready for this,” said Amber. “And I can get us to their airfield on the fuel we have left.”

“Like hell I’m going to let some amateur pilot who thinks she knows best assume command over this thing,” thundered Vox.

“Considering you taught me everything you know, I think you better just sit down and shut up right now, Logan,” Amber snapped waspishly back, and I blinked. Was Logan Vox the heloship pilot who had taught Amber how to fly, ultimately setting off the chain of events that had caused her father to decide to marry her off to repay his gambling debts? If so, that was… a remarkable coincidence. And also odd. After all, Logan was an heir to the Deepvox legacy, or he would’ve been, had things not gone to hell in a handbasket. Why wouldn’t Amber’s father have just tried to pressure Logan himself into marrying her to help cover his debts?

There was a stretch of silence, followed by, “Amberlynn?”

Amber really hated that name, so I doubted very much that she would respond to it. But this time I was wrong—which meant something. Like she’d had more of a relationship with this guy than I’d imagined.

“Oh, have you finally realized it’s me, you thick-skulled moron?”

There was another pause on the line. Then Vox’s voice came back. “Of course I knew it was you. But it didn’t seem like the kind of thing to discuss over the comms during the mission, thank you very much. I didn’t think you’d remember me, anyway.”

“As if.” Amber’s voice was deeply scornful, making it clear to all that the memories she was discussing weren’t pleasant. “Whatever. I have bigger fish to fry than dealing with your spoiled butt. Viggo, I’m rounding up my pilots and heading to Jeff’s location. Meet me there.”