Page 118 of Our Violent Ends
“It is very simple,” she finished. “When they come, be ready.”
They started to move. They started to pass messages, write notes, prepare telegrams for different cities in case the attack spread farther. Kathleen merely watched, sitting primly on one of the tables. There was some bubble of emotion stirring in her chest. Some strange feeling in realizing that she was not here because she had to be, because the Scarlets had sent her. In this space, at this time, she was not a Scarlet at all.
Perhaps she would never be a Scarlet again. She had spent all these years watching, mimicking, adapting. Making herself into the loyal inner-circle member, someone willing to die for the family. But she wasn’t willing—had never been willing. It had always been about maintaining whatever approach necessary to ensure order, but now order was gone.
Kathleen peeled her gloves off, scrunching up the rich silk fabric until it was balled in her hands. The Scarlet way of life was dead. The safety net was gone, but so too were the constraints. No more family members watching for the faintest sign of disloyalty. No more hierarchy and Lord Cai dictating their every move. All these years, Kathleen Lang breathed when the Scarlet Gang breathed. Kathleen Lang walked when the Scarlet Gang told her to walk. Kathleen Lang didn’texistexcept to be someone in line with the Scarlet Gang, except to be the perfect image of someone who was worthy of protection and safety.
And when the Scarlet Gang faded away, so too would Kathleen. When the Scarlet Gang removed itself, Kathleen Lang halted like a music box ballerina—a dead girl’s name who spun for their eyes.
The gloves fluttered to the floor.
The Scarlet way of life was dead. Kathleen Lang was dead, had always been dead. But Celia Lang was not. Celia had always been here, biding her time, waiting for the moment she could feelsafe.
“So how did you come across this information?”
The man suddenly came to sit down, his shoes stepping over the fallen gloves without noticing, eyes too focused on the frantic scene before them.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” she replied. “You can see it is true. You only have to send people out to poke around the corners of the city, and you will see the gangsters dressed pretending to be workers.”
“Hmmm.” The man’s gaze flickered to her now. “Your face looks familiar. Aren’t you Scarlet-affiliated?”
Celia stood up, fetching her dirty gloves and dropping them into the trash can.
“No,” she said. “I am not.”
Benedikt slammed up against the doors of the lab, blocking the exit with his body. Some paces away, a tired Lourens who had been awoken from his sleep was blinking in trepidation, not knowing why Roma was acting this way.
“Listen to me,” Benedikt said lowly. “You’ll be shot on sight.”
“Move aside.”
Roma’s voice was lifeless. So too were his eyes, a mass of darkness swallowing up his stare. The strangest thing was that Benedikt recognized himself in that expression, recognized that same twisted sense of rage that showed itself in recklessness.
Is that what I looked like?
“You said we were coming here to check on the vaccine!” Benedikt hissed. He made another grab for the jar in Roma’s hands. “Now, instead, you’re running off with some concoction to blow up the Scarlet house a second time. That’s not what Juliette would have wanted!”
“Don’t tell me what Juliette would have wanted!” Roma snapped. “Don’t tell—”
Benedikt took his chance to dive for the jar. Roma saw it coming and darted back two steps, but Benedikt outright lunged, pushing his cousin to the linoleum floor and pinning his arm down. Lourens made another concerned noise but otherwise remained motionless by the tables, his eyes swiveling about the scene.
“At least wait,” Benedikt said, his knees on Roma’s stomach. “Wait to see why. Since when did Juliette have any reason to take a dagger to her own heart—”
“So they killed her,” Roma seethed. “They killed her, and they’re going to get away with it—”
Benedikt pushed on Roma’s attempt to sit up. “This isn’t some murder on the streets, this is the Scarlet Gang! You’ve always known the danger of gangsters. You live it every day!”
Roma stilled. He breathed in, then again, then again, and suddenly Benedikt realized it was because his cousin was struggling to fill his lungs.
“She would never,” he managed. “Never.”
Benedikt swallowed hard. He couldn’t allow this. It was for Roma’s own good.
“There are Scarlets everywhere in the city right now,” he said slowly. “They’re plotting something. You cannot go make it worse.”
His words had the opposite effect. Benedikt had intended to pacify, and instead a vein started to throb at Roma’s neck. Roma shoved Benedikt off, fast, and got to his feet, but Benedikt wouldn’t give up so easily. He lunged for the jar again. When he only managed to catch Roma’s wrist, he switched from trying to wrest away the explosive and simply grabbed ahold of his cousin with both hands, keeping him from opening the lab’s doors, keeping him from running through the building and out into the night.
Roma came to a halt. Slowly, he turned around. The deadness in his eyes had acquired a murderous glint.
