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Juliette was not frightened. If anything, she was only resentful—not at Roma, but at herself. At wanting to lean in even while Roma was actively trying to kill her. At this distance between them that she had willingly manufactured, because they had been born into two families at war, and she would rather die at Roma’s hand than be the cause of his death.
“Why do you pause?” Juliette mimicked bitterly. Softly, she set him down, brushing his mussed hair out of his face. “Because even if you hate me, Roma Montagov, I still love you.”
Roma had not broken as Benedikt had, had not shattered into a thousand sharp pieces to cut anybody who got too close… only because Roma Montagov had swallowed it all inward instead.
Once, he would have burned the damn city to the ground just to keep her unharmed. Of course it was hard for him to hurt her now. It went against every fiber of his being. Every cell, every nerve—they had grown into place with one mantra: protect her, protect her. Even after knowing she had become someone else, even after hearing all the terrible things she had done in New York… she was still Juliette. His Juliette.
“These violent delights have violent ends,” Juliette whispered to herself. She tilted her head up to the clouds, to the light sea breeze blowing in from the Bund and stinging her nose with salt. “You have always known this.”
He wanted to scream at Juliette until his lungs grew hoarse. Only he knew that if he screamed I hate you, what he really meant was I love you. I still love you so much that I hate you for it.
Like twin statues reaching for each other, they both fell asleep at last.
“How mighty you are,” he whispered quietly. “I am grateful that our roles are not switched, for I would have dove headfirst into the Huangpu should I be left in this world without you.”
It was easy sometimes to forget how well they had known each other before everything went awry. To forget that they were once as familiar as halves of the same soul, predicting each other’s next words.
Because I cannot bear to see you hurt, even when I am the one hurting you the most.
“Nothing in this world is complicated, only misunderstood.”
“So long as he hates me, we are safe. If we love again… this city may just kill us both for daring to hope.”
“No,” Roma finally said. “Then we would not have met. Then I would have lived an ordinary life, pining for some great love I would never find, because ordinary things happen to ordinary people, and ordinary people settle for something that satisfies them, never knowing if there would have been greater happiness in another life.” His voice was rough, but it was certain. “I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai. I will fight this feud to have you, because it was this feud that gave you to me, twisted as it is, and now I will take you away from it.”
“A rose is a rose, even by another name,” he whispered. “But we choose whether we will offer beauty to the world, or if we will use our thorns to sting.” They could choose. Love or blood. Hope or hate.
Idiot, Benedikt thought again, but it was with such fondness that his chest burned with it, a red-hot iron of affection that branded every inch of his skin.
