Page 136 of 10 Days to Ruin

I jump hard enough to send my laptop flying. My uncle Kosti looms over me like a specter in a three-piece suit, reeking of cigar smoke and Acqua di Giò. His salt-and-pepper beard can’t hide the tension around his mouth.

“You look like hell, darling.”

I shudder and stand. “What are you doing here?”

He sets a cup of coffee down on the conference table. “Can’t an uncle visit his favorite niece?”

“Not when you look like that.” I frown. “What’s wrong?”

He sighs and scratches uncomfortably at his beard as he looks around at the cluttered, lifeless conference room. “Let’s go up to the roof to talk.”

Winter wind claws at my cheeks as the door clangs shut behind us. Kosti paces the gravel-strewn rooftop, his oxfords crunching over pigeon droppings and stubbed-out cigarettes. Then he stops and turns to me.

“You need to leave, Ari.”

I bark out a laugh. “You’re my travel agent now? Where should I go? I hear Thailand is nice this time of year.”

“This isn’t a joke,koukla.I wish it was, but it’s not.”

My frown deepens. It’s not like Uncle Kosti to be so serious. But the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes are drawn taut and the sad smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “What’s going on?” I ask quietly.

He just shakes his head. “The details don’t matter.”

“Of course they do!” I cry out. “God, I’m sick of everyone deciding things for me. My dad, you—can’t someone just tell me about these fucking ‘details’ and let me make my own choices for once?”

Kosti grabs my shoulders, his grip bordering on painful. “Listen to me, Ari. There are things happening. Movements in the dark. Leander’s making deals even I don’t fully understand. And Sasha?—”

“What about Sasha? Whatever’s happening, he can handle it.”

His jaw works. “This isn’t about his strength; it’s about yours. When things goboom, they don’t give a damn about who gets caught in the blast. And the Serbs very much want to make things go boom. Do you understand? They’re hunting, Ariel. Dragan Vukovic is hunting.” He leans closer, voice dropping to a graveled whisper. “And your man is the prize buck in hunting season.”

Fear sluices down my spine. I shake him off. “You’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”He pulls a manila envelope from his coat. Inside glints a Canadian passport bearing my face beside the nameEmily Carter.A plane ticket flutters in the breeze—one-way to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. “The last thing I want is to see you in a casket. After Jasmine… Well, an old man’s heart can only take so much. I loved you girls like you were my own daughters. So let me protect you as if that’s exactly what you were. If Leander won’t…” His face hardens. “I will do what’s right.”

The world wobbles on its axis. For one dizzying moment, I see it—me, vanishing into some Vietnamese hostel in the jungle while Sasha burns. My fingers brush the passport’s pebbled surface.

Two weeks ago, I would’ve kissed Kosti in sheer joy and started packing.

Now? Now, I see Sasha stabbing a crowbar in the maw of anything that would ever try to take a bit of me.

I see him in an apron, spooning sauce on top ofpelmeni.

I see him glowing beneath Parisian lights as buskers played songs like the whole world conspired to make a moment perfect for us and us alone.

“Why now?” I ask.

Kosti’s throat bobs. “Because I held you the day you were born. Because I couldn’t save Jasmine. Don’t make me bury another niece.”

The heater next to us burps out sticky exhaust. “Uncle Kosti, Sasha’s… different,” I say. “He’s not my father.”

Kosti laughs bitterly. “No. He’s worse. At least your father’s evil is predictable.”

I shove the envelope back into his chest. “You’re wrong about him.”

“Ari—”

“No. I’ve made my choice. You’re wrong. He’s not Leander. He’s not Yakov, either. He’s not a monster, Uncle. He’s… trying.We’retrying. And we’re going to make it.”

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