Our Violent Ends (These Violent Delights #2)

by Chloe Gong

“I know we were a risk to each other from the very beginning. And I know you far better than you think I do.”

“What are you afraid of?” Roma Montagov asked. Juliette’s lips parted. She exhaled a short, abrupt breath. “The consequences,” she whispered, “of love in a city ruled by hate.”

“Do you love me?”

“Why are you asking?” she croaked. “Less than an hour ago, you wanted me dead.” “I said I wanted you dead,” Roma confirmed. “I never said I didn’t love you.” Juliette gave a weak splutter. “There’s a difference?” “Yes.” His fingers twitched, like he was going to reach for her again. “Juliette—”

“I love you,” she whispered. And in echo of his words so many months ago, “I have always lo...

“I missed you, dorogaya,” he whispered against her ear. “I missed you so much.”

“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.”

“I will fight this war to love you, Juliette Cai.

“I believe you.” Juliette finally let herself smile. “But you shall not engrave it onto stone, because I don’t need you to take me away from the feud. I’ll be running by your side.”

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “Not of us. Not ever.”

“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.”

“Juliette,” he whispered. Both of their coats came off. Roma had the zip of her dress pulled in seconds too, and Juliette lifted her arms to accommodate. “My darling, darling Juliette.”

“Are you trying to impale me?” he asked, pulling the knife from the sheath around her thigh and setting it aside. His shirt joined her dress on the floor. Juliette ripped the sheath off too, tossing it onto the pile. “What’s a little light stabbing between lovers?”

That was why they worked so well together. They balanced the other depending on what the other needed.

Roma leaned down. He brushed his face against hers, then pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, dorogaya.”

“Are you okay?” Juliette leaned into the touch, exhaling. “What other choice is there?” “That’s not an answer, dorogaya.”

“I would have abandoned them for you,” she admitted to the empty room.

I wouldve died for you in secret

Had they just accepted her, had they seen her for what she could do, she could have offered the Scarlet Gang her life. Instead, they gave her scars and wounds—she was marked if she bit her tongue and stayed; she was marked if she tried to make something of herself and strayed. Scars upon scars upon scars. She was a girl with nothing else now.

You drew stars around my scars but now im bleeding

“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.”

Yup. Knew that was gonna happen.

“Keep fighting for love,” she whispered. “It is worth it.”

I will fight this war to love you, Roma had said, and now I will take you away from it.

She was not fighting for love. She was protecting her own, everyone else’s be damned.

The city is dangerous. Your place is here.” Marshall resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Not in humor—in belly-deep, stinking resentment. “I survived as a gangster in Shanghai for years. I can manage, thanks.”

ITS NOT JUST A PHASE DAD

“Juliette is dead,” he whispered. “Dead by her own hand.”

Buckle up.

“I know everything.” “All right, Miss I-Know-Everything, where is your brother?”

At the end of the day, movements survived, but the individual could be replaced.

It wasn’t a hallucination. Juliette Cai was really standing there, wearing a ridiculous hat, with Alisa behind her, both of them panting for breath as if they had been on a long run. “Look,” Benedikt said faintly, hardly hearing his own words as they slipped out. “You got your resurrection too.”

Roma didn’t seem to hear him. He was already dropping his pistol like it had burned him, dropping the jar in his other hand.

Roma had already reached Juliette, kissing her hard on the mouth. The embrace was so fierce that Juliette immediately stretched one of her hands back, trying to cover Alisa’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” Roma and Juliette asked in unison the moment they broke apart.

“I thought you were dead,” Roma was saying to Juliette. “Don’t ever do that to me.” “The better question is,” Benedikt cut in, “why are you so fond of faking deaths?”

“Miss Montagova, you will take the spare room, yes? Miss Cai, you should find that the sofa will suffice, and, Roma, I will find a floor sheet for you.” Juliette watched Roma frown, watched him look at the sofa and mentally measure its width, finding it would probably fit two. “You don’t have to—”

“Juliette, what—” “He’s old, Roma.” She pushed herself up from the kitchen table and took the orange with her, peeling the skin into neat strips. “Are you trying to horrify him with your social impropriety?” “Social impropriety while there is mass slaughter outside,” Roma grumbled.

“Roma.” “What is it?” He prodded her sleeve. “Another rip?” “No,” Alisa whispered, frowning and drawing her arm away. “So did you…? Did you marry Juliette Cai?” Juliette choked, the orange immediately lodging in her throat. “I—” Even by the dim light, Roma looked faintly red. “We are well acquainted.”

There was some more murmuring from the guest room before Roma emerged again, fumbling around in the dark with something that looked like a mat. “Lourens insisted I take this,” Roma explained, setting it onto the floor.

Laughing was the only way she wouldn’t cry. “And will you?” Juliette asked. Roma’s head jerked up. His eyes narrowed, trying to gauge if Juliette was asking a genuine question or teasing. She smiled. Roma exhaled in relief, kicking aside the mat.

“I’m still mad at you, dorogaya.” Juliette reeled back, placing a hand to her heart. “Mad at me? I thought we already got past that.” “I already forgave you for everything else,” Roma said. “I’m mad at you for having me think you were dead. Do you know how horrible that was?”

“I should be mad at you too,” she said quietly. “How dare you take a gun to your head as if your life is something that can be thrown away.”

He looked young. Vulnerable. This was the boy she had fallen in love with, underneath all the harsher layers he needed to wear to survive. But in her mind’s eye, she was remembering the sight before her when she had pushed open the doors to the lab. Roma, his pistol pressed to his temple. Roma, looking ready to shoot.

“You can’t ever do that.” Juliette tightened her fingers. “You can’t choose me above everything else. I will not accept it.”

“I won’t,” Roma whispered. When he opened his eyes again, slowly to adjust to the dim light, he added, “Don’t leave me, Juliette.”

It sounded like a plea. A plea to the heavens, to the stars, to the forces that drew their fates.

“I would never,” Juliette replied solemnly. Too many times had she done it already. ...

Roma loosed a soft breath. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I think I was more afra...

Juliette pulled her hand away, only so she could extend her pinkie finger instead.

“With my whole heart,” she promised, “if I have any say in the matter, you will never lose me.”

The candlelight flickered. Roma’s eyes, too, flickered up and down, from her face to her hand. “Is this…,” he said, “a strange American custom?” Juliette huffed a short laugh, grabbing Roma’s hand and hooking her pinkie with his. “Yes,” she answered. ...

“What if I don’t want this one?” he asked, tapping her pinkie. He moved his touch to the one beside—her ring finger—and grazed the length of it. “What if I want this one?”

“Hmmm.” Roma continued to draw a circle about her finger, leaving no question for what he was implying.

“I’m not sure if morbidity was what I was going for.” “Then what?” Juliette wanted to hear it. “What were you going for?” Roma breathed a laugh. “I’m asking you to marry me.”