The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(79)

“Efficient,” Ms. Dale noted. “And an excellent way to get out of this house for a while.” I knew she was thinking of her own mission as well as mine.

We sat there in comfortable silence for a little while longer. “I should be going,” she said finally, sighing a bit. “One can only cry in the corner for so long.”

I looked her in the eye. “Be careful, okay?”

Ms. Dale gave me a smile as she slowly eased herself up from the table. “Did you know I was never in this much danger until I met you? No? Must be a coincidence.” Her tone was light and airy.

I chuckled then, unable to stop myself as I felt the familiar stinging presence of my old enemy-turned-friend finally returning. It was a nice moment of normality, one I desperately needed.

And from the look of it, one that Ms. Dale needed as well. I just hoped I had cheered her up a little bit. If it was the only thing I wound up accomplishing today, then it would be worth it just to chase away her tears, if only for a moment.





30





Violet





A couple hours after my conversation with Owen, here I was again, back in the kitchen. Still organizing food, although, thrillingly, I’d moved on from cans to packaged starches. Viggo had pecked me on the cheek a little over an hour ago, announcing that with Tim, Jay, and Jeff overseeing the refugees, Ashabee’s staff supervising the king, and Thomas manning the security system—and, of course, me there to hold everybody together—he and Owen felt okay about taking one of Ashabee’s cars out on a short scouting mission of their own.

I hadn’t argued. We couldn’t exactly spare Viggo and Owen from our defenses if there was an attack, but at the same time, the quicker we found a place to relocate, the quicker we could move. If Viggo and Owen found a suitable place before Ms. Dale did, the risk would be worth it. My mental timer of how long we had before the Matrians returned was quickly running out, and I was anxious. If worst came to worst, I figured, all of us could hole up in Ashabee’s secret room, where we might easily escape notice, and defend ourselves for days if we were found.

And after all we had gone through in this house in the last forty-eight hours, it made me happy to see Viggo excited again, even if it was just about getting to drive one of Ashabee’s high-tech vehicles. It was good to see Viggo turning his mind forward—keeping busy was the best way to keep from dwelling on what was lost. His robotic mannerisms still lingered, but getting away from the house would help, I hoped. After giving his motorcycle to Amber, he could use another distraction.

I was most of the way through the extensive ‘rice’ section of my inventory when Tim rushed in, his eyes wide. “Amber here,” he announced. I stalled, food package in hand, and turned toward him, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

“Amber? She’s… here?” I repeated. That didn’t make the slightest bit of sense. She and Quinn were supposed to be far over the border by now, heading toward The Green and the Liberator base.

Tim nodded, his hands tensed at his sides. “Scared. Wants you. B…blood.”

My hand fumbled with the package, letting it fall to the counter as his last word registered, my stomach clenching with dread. “Let’s go,” I said shortly, and followed him.

Both of us broke into a run halfway across the house, and within a few minutes we were outside in the front yard, heading toward the massive truck Thomas had left parked in the driveway. As I rounded the corner, I became aware of panicked breathing.

“Please,” Amber begged, her voice hollow, dry and cracked. “I need Violet.”

“I’m here,” I said, pushing past Jay and grabbing Amber’s shoulders. She sagged in my hands, sinking down on the bumper of the truck, as if her legs wouldn’t hold her upright anymore. Dried blood splattered her plain t-shirt and smeared her jeans, and I felt it under my hands as I held her shoulders.

“Violet, we were grabbed,” she said, staring straight ahead, her lovely violet eyes wide and reddened, tear tracks streaking her cheeks. “Interrogated. Quinn… they…” Her voice broke, and her shoulders jerked under my hands as she sobbed.

I looked at Jay and Tim, wondering if they had any context for this at all.

“We don’t know,” Jay whispered quietly. “She used her code to get in, and grabbed us to get you. She said she needed to talk to you specifically.”

I turned back to Amber, trying to be gentle. “Amber, I need you to tell me what happened. As clearly as you can. Where’s Quinn? How did you get hurt?” The blood looked like it was at least a few hours old, but if she was hurt, we had to get her medical attention right away.

“It isn’t mine,” Amber breathed. “It’s Quinn’s. Oh God, Violet… they cut him… cut into him.”

“Cut him?” Agonizing images rushed into my mind, along with a blinding fear. “Who did? Is he… is he dead?”

Amber gave me a pained look and took in a shuddering breath. “I don’t know,” she said. “He was unconscious when they let me go. I don’t know if he’s still alive now.”

I pulled her up to her feet, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Why did they let you go?” I asked, one huge fear standing out in my mind. “Are they following you?”