Page 5 of Our Violent Ends
“Impressive,” Dimitri said when it was just the White Flowers again. “Really, Roma, it is most—”
“Shut up,” Roma snapped. The effect was immediate. He wished he could feel some satisfaction at the red that rose up Dimitri’s neck, at the amused smirking from the men that Dimitri had brought along, but all he felt was empty. “Next time don’t come prancing into foreign-controlled territory if you don’t know how to deal with the foreigners.”
Roma marched out, overly aggressive in his stride as he took the maintenance stairs back down to the ground floor. It was hard to say what exactly had him this worked up; there was so much boiling beneath his skin—the merchant slipping away, the strange assassin in the stalls, Juliette being here.
Juliette. He stomped extra hard coming out of the theater, squinting up at the gray clouds. A jolt of pain came from his arm then, and his hand flew to the cut that Juliette had made, thinking he would find a clump of blood, as rancid and dead as his feelings for her. Instead, as he rolled his sleeve up gingerly, his fingers came upon only smooth fabric.
With a start, Roma stopped at the side of the pavement. He peered at his arm. It had been finely wrapped, secured with a bow.
“Is thissilk?” he muttered, frowning. It looked like silk. It looked like the silk of Juliette’sdress, torn from the hem, butwhy would she do that?
A horn blew from the road, drawing his attention. The car idling there flashed its headlights, before the chauffeur at the driver’s seat stuck his arm out and waved at Roma. Roma remained unmoving, his brow furrowed.
“Mr. Montagov!” the White Flower finally hollered after a long minute. “Can we go yet?”
Roma sighed, hurrying to the car.
There were twenty-two vases scattered around the Cai mansion, all of them filled with red roses. Juliette reached out to cup one bud in her palm, her finger sliding along the delicate petal’s edge. Nightfall had long passed outside. The hour was late enough that most of the servants had gone to sleep, shuffling to their rooms in their nightgowns, bidding Juliette a good rest when they passed her in the hallway. She figured they had spoken only because it would have been strange not to acknowledge the Scarlet heir lying on the floor, arms splayed and legs propped upright on the walls as she waited outside her father’s office. The last servant had bidden her well more than half an hour ago. Since then she had stood up and started pacing, much to Kathleen’s annoyance. Her cousin had remained seated primly on an actual chair the whole time, a folder waiting on her lap.
“What could they possibly be talking about?” Juliette grumbled, releasing the rose in her hand. “It’s beenhours.Move it to another day—”
Lord Cai’s office door finally opened, revealing a Nationalist taking his leave. Months ago, Juliette would have been curious about the meeting, would have asked for a briefing. Now the sight of Nationalists coming and going in this house was so common that she hardly cared. It was always the same—squash the Communists, whatever the cost. Riddle them with bullets, break up their labor unions: the Nationalists didn’t mind how the Scarlets did it, so long as they achieved their objectives.
The Nationalist hovered at the doorway, then turned back, as if he had one more thing he forgot to say. Juliette narrowed her eyes. The sight of Nationalists had grown familiar to her, true, but this one... There were stars and badges galore decorating his uniform. A general, perhaps.
Testing her limits, Juliette held out her hand for Kathleen to take. Kathleen, albeit confused, accepted and picked up her folder, both of them walking toward the Nationalist.
“No more warlords.” The Nationalist flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his military uniform. “And no more foreigners. We enter a new world, and whether the Scarlet Gang enters with us is a matter of loyalty—”
“Yes, yes,” Juliette interrupted, squeezing past him and pulling Kathleen along. “Blessed be the Kuomintang, wàn suì wàn suì wàn wàn suì . . .” She started to push at the door.
“Juliette,”Lord Cai snapped.
Juliette stopped. A glint had entered her eye. The same sort that came about when the cooks brought out her favorite meal. The same sort when she spotted a diamond necklace she wanted in the window of a department store.
“Present and reporting,” she said.
Lord Cai leaned back in his large chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “Apologize, please.”
Juliette bobbed an unbothered curtsy. When she looked at the Nationalist, he was observing her carefully, but it was not the leer of men on the streets. It was something far more strategic.
“Please accept my apologies. I trust you can find your way to the door?”
The Nationalist tipped his hat. Though he offered her a smile, as was polite, the expression stopped entirely before reaching his eyes, merely crinkling his crow’s feet without any sign of warmth.
“Of course. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Cai.”
He had not been introduced to her, so they had not made an acquaintance at all. Juliette did not say this; she merely closed the door, then rolled her eyes in Kathleen’s direction.
“Sotiresome.When you’re on your way out, thenleave.”
“Juliette,” Lord Cai said again, with less bite now that the Nationalist was no longer present for Juliette to be a pest in front of. “That was Shu Yang. General Shu. Do you know who he is? Have you been following the papers and the advancement of the Northern Expedition at all?”
Juliette winced. “Bàba,” she started. She dropped into a seat opposite her father’s desk. Kathleen silently followed suit. “The Northern Expedition is so terribly boring—”
“It will determine the fate of our country—”
“Okay, fine, fine—thereportsare so boring. General so-and-so took this segment of land. Army division so-and-so moved this far up. I practically cry in excitement when you send me to strangle someone instead.” Juliette clasped her hands together. “Please, just let me do the strangling.”
