Page 121 of Our Violent Ends
Juliette threw the hat at Benedikt. He dodged easily, though even with Juliette’s deathly aim, the soft article would have bounced off him anyway. The lab fell silent again. Alisa’s eyes darted back and forth, trying to follow the situation.
“Under one condition,” Roma finally said. “If you cannot get to him, you must give up. Marshall’s own father will not put a call out for his head. But if caught, they will executeyou.”
Benedikt’s mouth opened to argue, but then, just subtly enough that Roma didn’t notice, Juliette raised her hand to her lips and pressed a finger there, shaking her head.
“I have a contact at the Bund who can smuggle us out,” she said, closing her fist and appearing normal the moment Roma turned to look at her. “Martial law cannot restrict him from sailing to catch fish, but the latest we can depart is noon. Any longer, and I suspect I will be found.” Juliette’s stare was harsh upon Benedikt, communicating alongside her words. “You must meet us at the Bund then. No matter what.”
Benedikt knew what Juliette was trying to say even if she didn’t say it aloud. If he was not there, they still needed to leave. She would knock Roma and Alisa out and drag them if she needed, but she would not risk their lives and let them remain behind for him.
Benedikt nodded, a smile—a true smile—coming to his lips. For perhaps the first time, he trusted Juliette wholeheartedly.
“At noon,” he promised.
Forty
They had boarded up the lab, going as far as to smash one of the windows in advance, so Scarlets passing by would think it already scouted and searched. Any moment now, the bugle call would sound across the city, summoning all those under Nationalist command.
Juliette wondered if any Scarlets mourned. If, in hearing of her death, they had felt a genuine drop of sadness, or if she was merely a figurehead they had been forced to respect. By now her parents had surely poked through her scheme, had received condolences back from the Nationalists about their dead daughter and searched through the house to find her missing. It would not take long to put two and two together and figure that Juliette was the one who had announced her own death.
“Miss Cai.”
Juliette lifted her head off Lourens’s kitchen table. His apartment was at the back of the labs, and after throwing a pile of shelves onto the floor to make the hallways look ransacked, they had deemed it unlikely any of the gangsters or soldiers would find their way here. Still, Juliette had shoved a knife across the door latch, and if anyone was to try barging through, they would have to snap the steel first.
“Yes?”
Lourens passed her a thin blanket. Juliette had trouble reaching for it, only because she could not see where she was reaching. She had been awake for long enough that her vision was starting to blur, and there was only one candle for light, flickering in the adjoined living room. The sun would be up any second, but they had just finished taping the windows of Lourens’s apartment with layers upon layers of newspapers, blacking out the outside and preventing the outside from looking in.
“If all is settled, I am going back to sleep,” Lourens announced.
Roma looked up suddenly, frowning from across the apartment. He was on the sofa with Alisa, a needle and thread in his hand as he fixed a rip in Alisa’s sleeve, leaning the both of them so closely into the candlelight that there was a risk Alisa’s blond hair would catch aflame.
“Lourens,” Roma said, almost chidingly as he finished his stitching. “How can you sleep? There’s about to be mass slaughter outside.”
“I highly suggest you children do the same,” Lourens chided back. He plucked an orange from his fruit bowl and set it down in front of Juliette. “Take it from someone who ran once too: when you leave all that you know, you want to be well rested.”
Juliette picked up the orange. “Thank you?”
Lourens was already shuffling away, moving from the kitchen into the living room. “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—”
“Thank you!” Juliette repeated, cutting in. Lourens disappeared down the hallway.
“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.
Juliette pulled an orange segment free and plopped it in her mouth. She started to walk around the living room, inspecting the various vases that Lourens owned. As she poked her nose here and there, she heard Alisa begin to mutter to Roma, only Alisa’s version of muttering was loud enough that each word was quite clearly enunciated.
“Roma.”
“What is it?” He prodded her sleeve. “Another rip?”
“No,” Alisa whispered, frowning and drawing her arm away. “So did you...? Did youmarryJuliette Cai?”
