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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.”
I cannot be weak! I must know how to punch bad men!”
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.”
There’s a plague on both your damn houses.
“I don’t.” He was trembling with his fury. “I hate you.” And when Juliette didn’t recoil, Roma kissed her.
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.”
“Hey.” Juliette jumped, her elbow banging against the jamb of her bedroom door. “Jesus.” “It’s Kathleen, actually, but I appreciate the holiness,”
Seeing that he was done, Juliette used her uninjured arm to reach for the fabric of her dress and yank it over the wound, congratulating herself for not letting out a pained shriek.
“Nothing in this world is complicated, only misunderstood.”
And any day now, the city will turn inside out, corrupted by the poison in its own seams.
“Your idea of what’s right is not gospel,”
“A duel, Miss Cai. If Roma can’t find Alisa in three days’ time, then he’s going to fight a duel with Tyler to get her back.”
Omg omg omg I see how this connects to the og!
Astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
Latin?
She could feel her distress emanating off her skin like a visible aura.
If that's how you get aura then I have a lot!
“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.”
“I will stare fear in the face,” Juliette promised quietly. “I will dare to love you, Roma Montagov, and if the city cuts me down for it, then so be it.”
“I’m okay,” she said. “Surviving. That’s the best one could hope for now.”
“Must we? Can we not live a quaint existence? Can you not be a good man?” “A good man? Oh, Roza—” Rosalind trailed her hands along the bookshelf, finding only dust, even though it could not have been more than a few days since the worn paperbacks were cleared away. “Ya chelovek bol’nói. Ya zloi chelovek. Neprivlekatel’nyi ya chelovek.”
Translate the end
edit: it means "I am a sick man. I am an evil man. I am an inattractive man."
“Because”—he signaled for the men behind him—“I heard that my son was alive and well, and I have come to fetch him back.” At once, the soldiers raised their firearms, pointed at one person in the room. “Hello, Bàba,” Marshall spat. “You have terrible timing.”
BYYYYYEEEE NO WAY
“Keep fighting for love,” she whispered. “It is worth it.”
“I will be free of my name.” Juliette looked up. “I will take yours.” There was a moment of stillness, a moment where Roma gazed upon her like he was trying to commit her features to memory. Then: “Juliette,” he breathed. “It is not as though my name is any better. It is not as though there is less blood on mine. You can call a rose something else, but it remains yet a rose.”
“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.”
“Where are the letters for central command?” “You mean the nasty envelopes I personally licked to close?”
Alisa wipes her face with her sleeve. She takes a steadying breath. “Don’t worry,” Alisa whispers. “We will be okay.” And she hurries forward, away from the canal, returning to Shanghai once more.
At the very least, the scene is now set for the 1930s, which is soon to come.…
Wait... There's a third?! Noooo
