With his eyes pinned on the scene before him, Roma pushed his sleeves up, then grabbed a plank of wood from nearby.
“Shed anything identifiable,” he clarified. “Then hurry up and help me pull Rosalind Lang out of there so we can knock her out.”
“Wait, what?” Marshall yelled. “Knock her out?”
Roma was already marching forward, lifting the plank of wood. “How else are we supposed to take her to Juliette?”
Thirty-Five
Bàba!” Juliette exclaimed. “Please, tell me what’s going on!”
The house was in disarray, overtaken by activity. At first Juliette had thought they were assembling their forces to fight against the attack. Messengers had been sent out the door at rapid speed, but as soon as she listened in on exactly what her father’s men were saying, it seemed that it was not a defense they were putting up. They were summoning Nationalists to the door, gathering forces inward. They were bringing together the Scarlet inner circle, the business tycoons who held properties in the city.
Now they were here in abundance, greeting Lord Cai briefly and hurriedly, eyes darting back and forth like there was something urgently pressing on their heels. The moment her father came up the stairs, Juliette lunged for his sleeve, holding on tightly.
“What’s going on?” she tried again when he continued walking forward. “Why would the blackmailer strike now—”
“It was never one blackmailer,” Lord Cai replied evenly. Pausing before his office, already humming with noise inside, he eased her grip off his sleeve, then smoothed the fabric of his shirt down until it was free of wrinkles. “It was the Communists. It has always been the Communists.”
Juliette felt her face furrow, all her muscles pinching together. “No, I told you, they’re working with the Communists, but those were Paul’s insects. One of the monsters is a Frenchman.”
Lord Cai opened his office door, then gestured for Juliette to stay put. He wasn’t allowing her to follow him in.
“Not now, Juliette,” he said. “Not now.”
The door closed in Juliette’s face. For a minute Juliette could only stand there, blinking in disbelief. It had been laughable of her to think that she would be accepted into this gang once Tyler was gone, that Tyler was the only thing standing between her and complete recognition. They let her feel powerful, running about the city like she could solve all its problems, but as soon as true trouble came . . .
They closed the damn door in her face.
Juliette took a step back, practically seething through her teeth.
“Miss Cai?”
A pitter-patter of footsteps came up behind her. Juliette turned and found a young messenger holding a note out for her.
“For you,” he said.
Juliette scrubbed a hand over her face, then took the note. “How come you weren’t sent out into the city with everyone else?”
The messenger grimaced. “I—er—if you don’t need me, I’ll be off now!”
He fled before Juliette could get another word in. She almost called out again to summon the messenger back, but then she unfolded her note and stopped short. It was written in Russian. The messenger had not been a Scarlet at all, but a White Flower.
Come quickly. The safe house. We have Rosalind.
—？
“Kathleen!” Juliette bellowed. She was already sprinting down the hallway, coming to a sharp stop outside her cousin’s bedroom, her heels practically making skid marks in the flooring.
Kathleen scrambled up from her bed. “Do we know what’s happening?”
“We have something better,” Juliette said. “Get your coat. Roma found Rosalind.”
When Roma opened the door to the safe house, it was so dark inside that Juliette could hardly see anything past his shoulder. As soon as she and Kathleen stepped in, Roma closed the door again and the apartment fell into utter black.
“What is this, an ambush?” Juliette remarked, flipping her lighter on. The first sight that flickered to life was Benedikt and Marshall, both standing by the stove and grimacing like they were bracing for something.
The second was Rosalind, gagged and tied to a chair.
“Oh my God,” Kathleen cried, starting forward immediately. “What—”
“Make her promise not to yell before you take that out,” Roma cut in quickly. He finally flicked on the overhead light, then sighed when Kathleen didn’t listen, yanking at Rosalind’s gag. It was only a small wad of fabric that once bundled vegetables; if Rosalind had really tried, she might have been able to spit it out.