Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights #2)

by Chloe Gong

“So long as he hates me, we are safe. If we love again… this city may just kill us both for daring to hope.”

“I think,” he said eventually, so faintly that it seemed like his mind was elsewhere, “you do yourself a disservice by refusing to hope.”

“Teach me how one should forget to think,” he remarked. “That sounds like a feat most valuable.”

Of course she remembered. She was incapable of ever forgetting a single moment between them.

“Are we going to lie down and die, or are we fighting to live?”

“I wish we had been born as other people,” she whispered. “Born into ordinary lives, untouched by a blood feud.”

It was impossible to put a stop to politics. But monsters could be found, and the men who controlled them could be killed.

One life was one life. One life did not become forgettable merely because it was lost in the masses.

If she was going to be treated like a mere girl, then she would act like one.

“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.”

“I have loved him so long that I do not remember him as a stranger,”