Page 68 of Our Violent Ends
Juliette exhaled sharply through her nose, letting Roma resume the last of the stitching. Though she tried not to move, she continued eyeing him until he shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to her and narrowing.
“The monster,” Juliette said again. “Everything will be clearer from him onward.”
But Roma shook his head and held his hand out. Juliette passed him the blade beside her—the very same one he had stabbed her with—and he cut the thread at the end of his stitching.
“I can’t,” he said shortly. “My hands are full. As you can see”—his jaw tightened, and he inclined his head toward the other end of the alley where Alisa was keeping guard—“the blood feud is whittling us down alongside our mass casualties from the madness. I fear sending resources into finding the blackmailer will only incite more attacks, and while I hear you have your vaccine already, we—”
“I’ll give it to you. Samples. Papers. Take it to your labs to re-create.”
Roma’s look of vexation faded for complete surprise. It didn’t take him long, however, to shake himself from his stupor and get back on task with a frown, retrieving a bandage from the box and laying it over Juliette’s shoulder.
“You have permission?”
Of course not,Juliette scoffed silently. In what world would the Scarlet Gang be willing to pass their vaccine on to the White Flowers? No one in that gang did anything out of the goodness of their hearts unless a good heart could bring in a fortune on the black market.
Aloud, Juliette only said, “No.”
Roma narrowed his eyes again and pressed down too hard on the bandage, not entirely by accident. “I somehow doubt that you are willing to betray your people, Juliette.”
“It is not betraying my people,” Juliette said, taking the stinging sensation. “It is going against my father. My own people will not suffer if the White Flowers suffer less too. Your loss is not my gain.”
Roma taped down the bandage. 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.
“Isn’t it?” Roma asked. He shifted behind her again and reached for her zipper, but he did not immediately pull it up. His fingers hovered there, a hairsbreadth away from her skin, yet she could still feel the proximity like a physical touch against her bare back.
“Not when it comes to the madness.” Juliette’s throat was dry. She could not see his face. She did not know how to read this. “I can help you orchestrate a break-in”—Roma suddenly pulled the zip up—“but in return, give me the monster in the White Flowers. I will get to the root of this.”
She felt his warm breath curl around her neck, as heavy as everything unsaid between them. A sudden pressure came on her other arm then, and she realized Roma was helping her stand. Almost as one, they rose upright, following the path of the breeze as it blew into the alley and swept skyward.
Juliette turned around. The wind settled. By all means, it was cold in that alley, but she couldn’t feel it. Her coat was in two pieces on the ground, and her dress was torn at the back. Roma’s jacket was kicked aside, soaked with blood, and his sleeves were pushed up his arms, kept away from his stained hands. When they stood like this, close enough that their heartbeats were in conversation, Juliette did not know what coldness was.
“Agreed?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
Roma stepped back. Like that, the chill crept in, swirling the front of Juliette’s dress, raising goose bumps all along her arms.
“For the vaccine,” Roma said. “Agreed.”
One more day of survival. One more day of Roma letting her off the hook without putting a gun to her head. How long could she keep this up? How long before she either caved or just let him shoot his goddamn bullet?
Juliette bobbed her head in a mock curtsy, turning to go. Only then Roma held his arm out, stopping her before she could take a single step.
“Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why did you jump in front of Alisa?”
Juliette’s lips parted.Because I cannot bear to see you hurt, even when I am the one hurting you the most.
She wanted to say it aloud. It was on her tongue. It burned the whole length of her throat, begging to be let out. What was the harm in another secret between them? What could they not withstand if they had already fought a monster and the stars themselves?
Then Alisa, from the other end of the alley, called, “We’ve got people incoming. Juliette, Perhaps you should go.”
Juliette heard the voices too. They were still some distance away, but keenly audible, overlapping one another in Russian. Laughing, they spoke of dead Scarlets, of her people falling to the ground with their lifeless eyes staring up at the sky.
It was that which had Juliette remembering herself. It was that which jolted the truth back to the forefront of her mind, like a slap to her face.
This wasn’t about fighting for love. This was about staying alive.
“You ask why?” Juliette said quietly. She swallowed hard—leaving nothing but lies studded in her mouth like extra teeth. “It stopped you from trying to kill me, did it not? I keep telling you, Roma—I need your cooperation.”
In an instant, the tentative readiness for peace fled from Roma’s expression. He was a fool if he thought the truth would make it easier. It would only tear them apart to think that this could end any other way: both of them consumed by the blood feud.
