The Gender Plan (The Gender Game #6)(12)

“Ashabee’s,” she said in disgust. “Of course—what an idiot I’ve been.”

“What? Why?”

She looked at me, her eyes holding my gaze. “Viggo, we’re within a mile of Ashabee’s property. It’s the last place Tim saw us, so…”

“So he went back and has been hiding out there? No, then they would’ve found him. They’d be watching the place.”

“Yes, they’d be watching for anyone coming or going, sure, but they might not be watching the entire property. Look, the dates on these sightings were right after the palace fell. He walked back—probably slept in the barn for warmth, walked down this road to travel more easily, and then climbed the hill to try and find it. He’s very likely to be there.”

“Do you think Owen and Violet went there?” Ms. Dale nodded, her face solemn. “Of course they did,” I muttered.

I threw the car into gear, and Ms. Dale frowned. “We should call for backup,” she said.

“There’s no time for them to get here. Besides, a two-man team draws a lot less attention.”

She exhaled sharply. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. I would’ve accepted something like ‘our enemy is distracted and probably not paying attention’ or ‘we know the property better than they do,’ but that one was pretty lame.”

I gritted my teeth together. “Yes, for those reasons too, but mostly because we can’t just leave them there.”

Ms. Dale rolled her eyes and patted my forearm. “Relax, Viggo, I didn’t say we weren’t going. So stop growling at me and start driving.”

I readjusted myself in the seat, tamping down the sudden rage that had formed in my stomach, and then pressed the gas, throwing us forward. It took a few heartbeats for me to completely calm down. When I did, a question instantly popped into my mind.

“You said earlier that I wasn’t the only one responsible for her.”

“I did.” Her tone was guarded, but I forged on.

“Was that because of what you did?”

She shot me a glance and then looked away, clasping her hands together in her lap.

In a moment of duress, back when we were more enemies than friends, Ms. Dale had confessed to me that she had been the one to select Tim as a test subject during the Matrian screening process for boys. At the time, she had been following orders from her higher-ups, testing young Violet’s loyalty to Matrus, but I knew it had eaten her up inside ever since she had seen the true horror of how the boys were “trained” in the Facility. I was picking at a sore spot, I knew that. But I wanted to understand. Needed to, really.

I turned right down the road that would lead us to the mansion, and Ms. Dale sighed. “Of course it is,” she confirmed. “I… set Violet down this path. Regardless of my intentions, I did. And in doing so, I hurt her, and more specifically, her brother, more than I thought was possible. The suffering she’s endured all stems from me, from a decision I made.”

“Not all of it is your—”

“Spare me, Mr. Croft. I am looking for neither forgiveness nor platitudes. Yes, I was ignorant of the use of the boys, and yes, I didn’t have a choice about whether or not to send Violet to Patrus. I just put her in a position to choose, when she shouldn’t have had to. And from that moment, her fate was sealed. Every step on this path exists because I forced her to choose.”

I fell silent, uncertain how to respond. After a moment, Ms. Dale added, “I owe Violet a debt I can never repay. And given that disaster seems to follow her around, I realize that maybe I have spent too much time trying to fix the problem, and not enough time trying to take care of her. Just like I spent too much time fixated on what she could do for Matrus, and not enough time trying to learn who she really was. Maybe if I had, I would’ve realized—”

She drew silent as we both noticed it at the same time—a bright red glow on the horizon that I recognized. Something was on fire, something bigger and more out of control than the little blaze we’d set at Mr. Kaplan’s. And I knew, within my core, that it was Ashabee’s mansion.

I pressed down on the accelerator, watching the speedometer needle drag upward, climbing to its zenith, the engine roaring noisily, and we raced down the road next to the wood.

Slowing enough to make the turn, I pressed down on the brakes hard, stopping short with a jerk that caused the seatbelts to lock up. I unhooked mine as I rolled down the window, leaning over and clumsily keying in Amber’s code. The unbroken side of the huge gate rattled as the machine whirred, pulling back before us and revealing the mansion—half of it ablaze, thick black plumes of smoke reaching out into the sky.

Even from the distance, I could see a lone, dark figure standing on the driveway, watching it burn.





6





Violet





The tiny elevator creaked under my weight, and I looked up, through the mesh, as the darkness around me continued to press in. I didn’t know where the ceiling was, couldn’t see it in the gloom. Whatever Ashabee had designed this tiny elevator for, he hadn’t done a good job. Why wouldn’t he have included proper lighting? I fidgeted and checked my watch, my nerves making it hard to sit cramped up in this tiny space, my feelings swinging from impatience to nausea.