The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(99)

“Good. Cad, with me.”

The young man nodded, and I tore open the door, not wanting to waste any more time. The panic that had been muffled by the door exploded into our ears, and I moved down the carpeted steps into the VIP box we’d entered, my eyes scanning the second level before falling toward the ground. Wardens had encircled the crowd, blocking the exits, standing there and firing mercilessly into the crowd. It was a brutal scene, one that made my vision go red: the thousands of people trapped inside, diving this way and that, crawling around behind the seats for cover, using their neighbors as shields or trying to shield them… I had no way of knowing whether the same thing was happening in the other stadiums yet. Right now, all we could do was save as many witnesses as we could from this one.

I moved quickly down the stairs, hardening myself, becoming mechanical and precise. I raised my handgun, sighting the wardens I had a good angle on and squeezing the trigger once, and then again. The woman on the left dropped immediately, but the second one grabbed her shoulder and sagged back against the door. I squeezed the trigger again, not letting in any emotion, save a grim sense of satisfaction.

Amber had lied when she’d said I didn’t kill women. I would kill any human who had stooped to something like this.

Cad rushed up to the wall next to me and began firing at the wardens covering another set of doors. I cursed and grabbed his shirt, hauling him back as someone looked up at him and began firing at us. Bullets whined as they flew by, and I pulled Cad down onto the ground as they impacted the walls overhead.

Meeting my gaze, Cad’s eyes were tight and furious. As soon as the first round of bullets lulled, he rose to his knees and squeezed off a few more rounds. I followed suit, dropping two more wardens and losing four bullets in the process. Seven rounds down, four more to go.

I ducked as another spattering of automatic gunfire hailed up at us, the bullets hitting the concrete wall and making shards and powder rain down. I gritted my teeth, then burst up, training my gun on our attacker. I squeezed the trigger, satisfied to see her drop.

Movement on my left caught my eye, and I turned my head in time to see two wardens burst through the doors of a VIP box two doors away. “Left side,” I shouted to Cad, turning my gun toward them.

Cad sat up, his eyes wide in alarm, and then ducked back down as one of the women swung her aim toward us. I compressed the trigger—two left—and then ducked, cursing when she didn’t go down. More bullets streaked overhead, and I had an intense, momentary debate with myself about whether I should change the clip before it was spent, when I heard the gunfire stop suddenly.

I risked a glance and saw the woman fiddling with her rifle. Without hesitating, I pulled the trigger twice, and was up and moving the second she fell, racing past Cad and angling for the next box, hanging ten feet away.

I planted my foot on the railing around the box and pushed off it hard. There wasn’t even enough time to feel like I was falling before I had breached the gap, my feet just missing the railing of the other box. I hit the ground, my ankles and knees absorbing an impact that made me grunt in pain, but I didn’t stop moving.

Ejecting the clip while running took practice and experience, but it wasn’t a problem for me, not after all these years. It fell to the floor with a clatter, and I reached into my holster pocket and pulled out the first of my spare clips, slapping it into the gun just as I reached the second railing.

The second guard’s gun was on me at this point, but I ignored it, my heart thudding hard as I raced toward the box where she stood, my breath coming in pants. I planted a foot on the railing, just like before, and leapt. My thumb released the slide, slipping it back in place, as I flew through the air.

Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. The warden, standing next to the body of her dead comrade, pointed up at me as I came down, but I stretched out my arm, an angry yell tearing from my lungs. It was going to be one of us, possibly both. I squeezed the trigger again and again as I fell, certain she would get a shot off even then.

I landed hard in the VIP box, my breath hitching. The woman had fallen on her back, blood already beginning to pour from the three bullets I had put in her chest. I ran my hands over my body, certain she had struck me somewhere, and then exhaled when I realized I hadn’t been hit at all.

There was no time for relief, however, as I heard Jeff’s shout ringing in from the hall, where the two women had left the door open. Scrambling up toward the doors of the VIP booth I was in, I heard the sound of gunfire coming from both sides. Figuring Amber and Ms. Dale would be okay, I headed for Jeff, racing down the curved hall.

A volley of bullets ricocheted throughout it, and I was forced to slow, pressing my back against the wall. I heard Jeff shout, this time in alarm, and slid myself carefully forward, praying I would have enough time...

I came around the curved edge, keeping myself low, and saw that Jeff was still kneeling behind the trashcan, his face red and his breathing ragged. More gunfire sounded, and then he was up, squeezing the trigger.

“So sorry!” he shouted, before ducking back in.

Creeping up behind him, I raised my gun and dropped the first warden kneeling in the middle of the hall farther down, her gun trained on Jeff’s position. Jeff looked back at me, alarmed by my sudden appearance, but I ignored him and moved forward.

Another guard stood off to one side, busy changing her clip, and I leveled my gun at her just as she looked up. She barely had a chance to register what was happening when my shot caught her in the shoulder. Her gun fell loudly, clattering on the floor, and she screamed in pain as she fell back. I shot her in the other shoulder for good measure, but didn’t go for the kill shot.