Last Violent Call

by Chloe Gong

Two knocks meant “all clear,” and three knocks meant “dorogaya, for the love of God, I’m holding something in my hands.”

Mai. The easiest combination of “Cai” and “Montagov,” perhaps the least original method of creating an alias in the history of starting anew.

If he didn’t love Juliette so much, he would really spend every waking moment in fear of what went on in that mind of hers.

Life was hard. Work doing menial labor was harder.

“It’s Juliette Montagova.” She lifted her hand and waved her fingers, flashing her gold wedding ring while she continued onward and exited the living room. “I’m a married woman. Roma, come help me get the knives, would you?” In that moment, as Roma pushed off the wall and followed her obediently, he fell in love all over again.

Roma could sweet-talk her and how stubborn Juliette decided to be in opposition.

The trope

“You won’t ever lose me,” he repeated, sounding so serious even with the jest in their actions. “And I love you, to have and to hold as my unlawfully wedded wife, until the universe itself goes poof.”

“I have an internal compass that centers on you instead of true north.”

Ya Allah

because the more we play hero, the larger the targets grow on our backs.”

“We will walk this balancing act for the rest of time. The life we chose is a perpetual tightrope.”