The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(81)

“Nothing that would be permanent,” Thomas said softly. “Owen wouldn’t allow it. He was hard but fair, so they were in relatively one piece when I finished with them, and they made sure to steer clear of me afterward.” His face tightened almost imperceptibly. “They died on a mission a few months later, and I don’t miss them.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” I agreed, trying not to let my shock at the callous statement show. This was Thomas—I expected such statements from him now. “Still, I’m sorry Owen didn’t say goodbye to you when he left. It seems like he was one of the few people you were really comfortable with here.”

Thomas shrugged. “He’s the only one who seems to care. He always makes sure I’m okay, and he… he wasn’t put off by my… social ineptitude. He treated me like a person, not a tool. I mean, while I don’t believe in emotional decision making, it doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”

I frowned, realizing that I, too, had probably been a little cruel to Thomas when I had first met him. At the very least, I still didn’t check in on him as often as I could, and I never told him how much I appreciated him and what he had done for us. I opened my mouth, but Thomas waved me off. “I wasn’t asking for you to do that, Violet,” he announced with some aplomb. “I just… I wanted to share what Owen did for me. That’s all.”

Licking my lips, I nodded. “Well, I appreciate it.”

“Besides, there is an eighty-four point three six percent chance Owen will return soon. If I were a gambling man, I would say before the end of the week.”

“Eighty-four point three six percent?” I blinked, a smile tugging at my lips. “I would not wager against those odds.”

“Smart move, Ms. Bates.” He met my gaze, a shadow of a smile on his lips. “I so dislike taking from those who have nothing in the first place.”

I laughed then, my earlier disappointment and sadness evaporating under my delight at Thomas actually making a joke. It was so out of character I couldn’t help but appreciate it even more. Besides, if Thomas said Owen would be back, I knew he would be. Thomas was rarely wrong about these sorts of things.

Fueled by that burst of optimism, I turned to the computer at my station and cued up the blueprints of Starkrum Stadium, seeing what possibilities it had to offer for our upcoming mission.





32





Violet





Eight hours later, I was in my room, packing my bag, amazed at how quickly everything seemed to have come together. Ms. Dale had her conversation with Jeff, and, after only an hour and a half of what must have been carefully placed questions on Jeff’s part, he had reported back that, almost always, emergency vehicles that left the city were given blanket clearance upon re-entry. Apparently, Elena’s desire to appear merciful had helped play into our hands.

After that, Jeff had reached out to Anello Cruz, asking if the former fighter turned security advisor would be so kind as to give his family, who were coming into the city to undergo their registration process, a tour of the stadium. He had played to Cruz’s ego, promising that his family were all huge fans, and the man had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. I smiled at the very thought. I had no idea how good a valet Jeff had been, but as a spy and manipulator of assets, he excelled.

And now everyone was getting ready, packing their own equipment, just as I was. There was no way I was going to sit this one out. Not again, not after what had happened the last time. The worry alone had made me sick to my stomach, and this time around there would be little to no communication with our base, as Ms. Dale, Thomas, and Amber had insisted it would be too much of a risk. Using our handhelds that close to Elena’s forces meant a higher chance of them tracing our calls and intercepting us—or finding their way back to our allies.

I was busy folding up a set of slightly-too-big black pants when the door swung open with a creak and Viggo walked in. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms as I finished folding and set the pants in my bag. I tried to make the motion look as effortless as possible, but the cast around my arm made it almost laughable.

“What are you doing?” Viggo asked roughly.

I picked up a flashlight, shoving it into the bag as well, and didn’t look at him. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

I cringed at the tone of my voice. I had already dropped into defensiveness in anticipation of the fight brewing. I knew Viggo was going to fight me on my decision to go, and I was already snapping at him. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t how I’d planned to do this.

I looked up to see him glowering at me. “I’m sorry,” I said, fidgeting slightly. “I didn’t mean to sound snappy.”

Viggo took a step into the room, turning to close the door behind him. I heard him take a deep breath, in and out, before he came about to face me.

“We had an agreement,” he said quietly, his eyes dropping to my cast and then rising back up to take in my bare scalp. I reached up to run my fingers over it, feeling the coarse, short hairs prickling me.

“I know, but I’m fine,” I insisted. “I haven’t had a dizzy spell since—”

“Yesterday,” Viggo said sternly.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“People in the camp are keeping an eye on you,” he supplied. A flash of irritation made my skull heat up, but he held up his hands, palms out in a calming gesture. “I didn’t request it. Everyone is just worried about you. They want to make sure you aren’t pushing yourself too hard. They keep coming up to me and asking me how you’re doing, telling me all these reasons they’re concerned you’re working too much.”