The Gender Lie(66)

Ms. Dale rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m not going to do that. If it were girls, maybe, but boys?”

I shot a sharp look at her, suddenly feeling extremely angry. “Really, Melissa? You’re going to tow Matrian lines right now? Do I need to remind you of our little conversation in that torture chamber, before I pumped myself with adrenaline?”

Ms. Dale paled and shook her head, but I pressed on, my anger getting the better of me. “Maybe I should go get Violet, and tell her about your role in selecting her brother as a candidate for this place. How you personally rigged his test for certain failure.”

I knew I should feel bad about holding this over her, but to be honest, I was still bitter about it, and the need to hide it from Violet. When Ms. Dale had confessed this to me during our private meeting soon after we first arrived in the facility, she had done so out of a sense of guilt, at learning from the twins what this facility was. I saw her guilt, which was why I had to keep it from Violet. She would probably kill Ms. Dale without thinking about it, and while I’d understand her fury, I also had to remind myself that she had killed someone to keep Violet safe. It was the only reason I was still keeping Ms. Dale’s secret, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use it to extort her.

She darted forward and her hand reached out, striking me hard across the face. “How dare you,” she hissed. “I was doing what I had been ordered to do—test Violet’s loyalty to Matrus, to see if she was spy material. I didn’t know she would react the way that she did, and I certainly didn’t understand the full scope of what went on in this facility.”

I rubbed my cheek from where she had struck me and met her gaze. “You know, you’re in a rare position to actually do something to make up for all of the wrongs you have caused these boys. I suggest you take it.”

She settled back on her rear, folding her legs in front of her. I watched her scowl lessen as her anger drained, and she lowered her head until her chin almost touched her collarbone.

I waited.

“How do you do it?” she asked suddenly, looking back up at me.

I frowned, not following her meaning.

“How do you… I don’t know… always see things in the right light? Why is your moral compass so much better than mine?”

I widened my eyes. “I, uh, don’t know. Honestly… sometimes I find myself wondering if it is so easy,” I replied, my mind drifting back to the argument with Violet. “Even Violet, she…” My voice trailed off, and I immediately regretting mentioning Violet’s name. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about her with Ms. Dale—not yet. But it was too late.

Ms. Dale’s expression had turned curious. “So, this… wondering of yours has something to do with Ms. Bates?”

I saw no choice but to nod.

Ms. Dale leaned back. “Well, I’m not a relationship counselor, Mr. Croft… Take it up with her.”

I snorted. “First of all, Melissa, I would never come to you for dating advice. Secondly, it’s more than just Violet… It’s about Desmond. And… how… Violet is taking to her ideas.”

There was a flash of something across Ms. Dale’s face, so fast and imperceptible that I would’ve missed it, had it not been for our interrogation session after arriving at the facility.

“You know something,” I accused.

“I really hate that you can read me so well,” she muttered. “But you’re right. And if Desmond Bertrand has her hooks in Violet, things are about to get incredibly dangerous for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Ms. Dale wet her lower lip. “I know you don’t think much of me, but believe me when I say that Desmond is far more insidious.”

“How do you know that?”

She gave me a dark smile. “Because I was once her pupil, Mr. Croft.”

I blinked and leaned back, absorbing that tidbit of information. “I see.”

Ms. Dale scoffed and rubbed her fingers together. “No, you really don’t. Desmond…” She shook her head. “I… I can’t explain it.”

I shot her a look and she raised her arms in frustration. “It’s been decades since I thought she died... Now she’s up here, running a rebel faction? She might not even be the same person she used to be,” she said.

“What kind of person was she?”

Ms. Dale leaned forward, running the palms of her hand over her pants. “Desmond had this way of making you think, believe, that you were special. She could make you forget parts of yourself, and you don’t even realize that they’re missing until, suddenly, you’ve crossed a line you would never have crossed otherwise. She was like a virus, one that… gave you what you wanted, made you see what you wanted to see, while slowly manipulating you into a position that gave her the best advantage. She used to prey on vulnerability, using it to get you to do something that fulfilled her agenda, and then discarded you when you become of no further use. But Viggo—Mr. Croft—that was over twenty years ago. I have no idea who she is now, because in all honesty, the Desmond Bertrand I knew would never have betrayed Matrus.”