The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(29)

I looked inside the room. Violet had moved over to the broken window, her head cocked as she listened. I could hear the faint thump of whatever was on the other side suddenly stop, doubling the silence that surrounded us in the chambers. Violet looked back at me and nodded, her face tense. Then she deliberately tapped her watch, a reminder that time was not on our side.

“What is the mission?” asked Owen.

“Kill the king,” Amber responded archly, and Owen shook his head.

“What is our mission, as Liberators?” he said.

I grunted, torn between interrupting Owen to remind him that time was short, and hoping that this would be the moment he could get Amber to see reason. I didn’t want to shoot her, not if I didn’t have to.

Amber’s eyes were malevolent as she sneered at him. “Kill any man who tries to tell me what to do,” she stated, giving Owen a daring look.

Owen tsked, and lowered his arm, resting his hand on his hips. “Okay, one—ouch. Not trying to tell you what to do, just trying to give you information so you can reach your own conclusion. Two—Amber, you’re being purposefully obtuse. It’s not like you. Our mission was to find the boys, liberate them from Matrian control, and overthrow the government for lying to us for so many years.”

“So?” Amber snapped back.

“So how does killing King Maxen accomplish any of that?”

Silence met his question, and I jumped on it, not waiting to see whether Owen’s logic had its intended effect.

“We need to go,” I announced, and Amber bristled. I ignored it, turning my head to look at Henrik. “The king’s backup is certainly on its way.”

Henrik considered me for several seconds and then looked back at Amber, who was frowning at him with increasing consternation. His mouth pursed under his well-maintained gray and white beard.

“It’s up to you,” he finally said, and I felt a flare of irritation that he was giving the decision back to the woman who clearly wasn’t interested in hearing the truth.

Amber chewed on her lower lip, staring at us. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling both longer and shorter than the last. When she finally spoke, I was on the verge of marching everyone out and leaving the indecisive behind.

“Bring the king,” she said finally. “We’ll hear you out in a safer location—if we believe you, we’ll let him live. If not… well. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I ignored her barely concealed threat and nodded. “We need to get out of the city. Let’s get back to the truck and see if we can use it to get out of here.”

Without waiting to see whether anybody would act on my instructions, I walked back into the room in time to see Jay hauling the king to his feet on Violet’s orders. The king glowered at all of us, jerking his arm out from the grip of her left hand.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you Matrian murderer,” he spat at Violet.

Violet’s eyes widened for a moment at the vehemence of his statement. Then, her surprise morphed into amusement. “I prefer ‘murderess’,” she said, grabbing his arm again. “Maybe it’s a pet peeve of mine, but I hate when the masculine version of the label is applied to me.”

The king ripped his arm out of her hand again and took a step back, the look in his eyes threatening dire retributions. “I’m not going anywhere without my guards,” he announced.

“You don’t really get a choice,” said Amber from the doorway, her gaze dark with the promise of violence. He opened his mouth to protest, but she speared him with a look. “Speak again, and I’ll put a bullet in your head and walk away.”

The king’s mouth snapped shut, and he scowled at Amber, trying to gauge how sincere her promise was. “No,” he finally said, shaking his head. “I won’t go with you—I’ll never go with any woman who doesn’t understand her role. HELP! Guards, guards, HELP!”

My patience had finally reached its end, and I leapt forward and swung, my fist connecting squarely with the king’s jaw. That would be the third man I had punched today—but this punch was the most gratifying. I’d never dared to dream that one day I would see the king of Patrus crumpling to the floor in front of me like a puppet whose strings had been cut all at once.

Ms. Dale grinned at me as she moved to open the door in her tiny room, letting Quinn in. He took one look at us—mostly a curious one—and then shrugged, wisely keeping his mouth shut.

Violet moved up next to me, her eyebrows furrowed. “Seriously, Viggo? Jay could’ve easily gotten him there.”

“What? He was being difficult!” I argued, but I wasn’t angry. I felt more amused than anything. Which was weird, considering that this place was about to become a hornet’s nest of angry guards at any moment. And if we were caught with the king, they were going to shoot us first, then shoot us again, and possibly again, before ever asking a question.

“Punching someone’s lights out cannot be your solution to every problem,” Violet replied, and I flashed her my most charming smile.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” I asked as Jay helped Ms. Dale out the window, then stooped to pick up the unconscious king, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Let’s get out of here—you can continue chastising me in the truck.”