Last Violent Call (Secret Shanghai, #3.5)(9)


Juliette’s response was to draw a weapon. She took the stairs two at a time, teeth gritted hard and heart pounding against her ribs. At once, she rounded the top of the stairs to find Yulun lying motionless at the foot of a bed and a girl pinned to the floor a few paces away, struggling against a tall man with a cloth in his hand.

“Hey!” Juliette shouted.

The girl’s head jerked left, seeking the sound with a frantic, heaving gasp.

“Help!” she screamed in Russian. “Please!”

The man lurched forward, intending to clamp the cloth around her mouth. Just before he could make contact, however, he craned back to avoid the girl’s flailing arms, exposing his neck.

Juliette knew how to take an opening. Without missing a beat, she threw her knife, landing it dead center in the man’s throat.





4


“Oh my—”

Roma skidded to a stop at the top of the stairs, coming up behind Juliette and taking in the scene. He squeezed her shoulder first, hovering for a beat until she touched the back of his hand lightly in assurance, before rushing to Yulun’s side.

The boy’s chest moved with his shallow inhale-exhale. Thank God. Not dead, only knocked out. Roma tapped Yulun’s face, but the boy gave no response. There was a rather intense red bruise freshly marked on his temple. Roma winced. He had been knocked in the head like that one too many times and, from unfortunate personal experience, he knew how terrible it was to wake up afterward. It would be no good to rush him.

Juliette went to help the girl, her shoes clacking on the floor in her hurry. Roma glanced over just as she was nudging aside the dead man with her heel. She extended a hand down.

“Are there any more of them nearby?”

They had just been hearing about possible Russian men on the streets looking for Yulun’s fiancée, but this man lying dead on the floor was Chinese. On the side of his neck, right beside the entry point of Juliette’s blade, he had a tattoo of an angel.

“I—I don’t think so,” the girl answered hesitantly. She took the helping hand, her shoulders pulled small when she straightened to her feet. “Thank you. You saved me.”

Juliette shrugged. She always got a little embarrassed when receiving gratitude, though she hid it well with a self-assured attitude. Only Roma knew how to spot that flush of pink at the tip of her nose, then that twitch in her hand when she bent down to tug her knife out of the man’s throat, sending a spray of blood across her ankles.

In unison, Roma and the girl winced. While Roma continued watching his wife to make sure she was okay, the girl hurried over to Yulun, gingerly touching his forehead.

“He will come to in a little while,” Roma assured her. “There is no immediate danger from his injuries.”

The girl nodded. Her picture truly hadn’t lied: when a strand of hair fell into her face, Roma couldn’t comprehend how uncanny her resemblance to Alisa was. Though the dark blond color served as the most obvious point of comparison, her curls fell from her head in the exact same way too, from the tight, unruly locks that stayed messy at the top to the looser waves along her back. She was pale as she brushed the strand away.

“What happened?” Juliette asked from across the room. She knew she needed to jump in. Roma was practically at a loss for words while he flailed over the incomprehensible illusion of his little sister crouching in front of him.

“They have been threatening me for some time. I suppose it is only now that they finally found my location and…” The girl hesitated, trailing off midsentence. “How much has Yulun told you?”

Juliette didn’t entirely answer the question either. “I gather that you know he came to us for help.”

A nod. “I could hardly believe him, but he said you were… well…”

“Devochka, what’s your name?” Roma interrupted, before she could go waving their names around and they would have to continue telling blatant lies. “Pardon us for not asking sooner.”

The girl looked down, pressing her hand to Yulun’s cheek. “That’s all right. There was a lot going on.”

On cue, from where she stood, Juliette shook free a bedsheet she had rummaged out from one of the cabinet drawers and draped it over the dead body. She met Roma’s eyes.

You’re helping me drag him out afterward, she mouthed in English.

Dear Lord.

“I am Milyena,” the girl, meanwhile, was saying. “You can call me Mila. Everyone around here does.”

“Very well, Mila.” Roma braced his hands on his knees and stood up, wincing from the fast movement. “See if you can assist Yulun upright. My wife will help you get him into our car.”

Mila blinked. “Car?”

“You cannot possibly stay here if your location has been exposed,” Juliette added. “It is only a short drive, I promise. Now…” Juliette looked to Roma again, inclining her head toward the covered corpse. “Use your strong muscles for me, please, qīn’ài de?”



* * *



Rather unceremoniously, Roma dumped the attacker’s body into a canal.

“This is terrible,” he grumbled under his breath, dusting his hands off. “The poor fish.”

“The poor fish?” Juliette echoed. “We’re feeding the fish so many good nutrients. This is going to be the best meal they’ve had in years. Delicious human meat.”

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