Page 153 of 10 Days to Ruin

SASHA

The world narrows to the fracture spreading across Ariel’s face. Her lips part—not in a scream, but a silent shattering.

“Ari—”

She recoils from my outstretched hand. “Don’t.Don’t.” Her heel catches on the hem of that obscenely red dress as she stumbles back. “You let me mourn her. You let meburyher.”

Her uncle grabs her elbow. “We need to go,koukla.Now.”

My instincts scream to break his wrist. My heart—that traitorous, atrophied muscle—keeps me rooted. “Ariel. Let me explain.”

“Explainwhat?” Her laugh carves through me. “How you let me think I lost her? How you—fuck—” She presses shaking fingers to her mouth. “You knew. All this time. Youknew.”

The ballroom’s ambient murmur crescendos into a roar. Half of it is aimed at us. The other half flows in a different direction.

It’s not until I look to the stage that I see why.

Dragan Vukovic is climbing the dais steps, his tailored tuxedo straining over shoulders still thick from years spent breaking bones in Belgrade’s fighting pits. He drapes an arm around a gray-faced Leander’s shoulders and beams.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Dragan’s voice booms through the mic. “What a touching family moment. Let’s give the happy couple a round of applause!”

Leander sways beside him, pupils dilated wide. The pills, whatever they are, are no longer doing the trick. He looks like he’s staring into the maw of a nightmare.

Ariel spins toward the stage. “Baba, don’t?—”

“Now, my friend, onto more important matters!” Dragan claps a meaty hand on Leander’s shoulder. “I think it’s time to tell them. Tell them all. Tell yourallieswhat your precious future son-in-law did.”

Leander’s gaze locks with mine. His jaw works timidly, like the words taste repulsive on his tongue. “Sasha… helped… Jasmine…”

Dragan snatches the mic. “He helped your daughter fake her death! Framedmefor her murder! All to steal your alliance!” Spittle flies as he jabs a finger at me. “Thissvinjaplayed you! Playedallof you!”

The crowd erupts.

In the midst of the mayhem, Ariel tries running toward the stage where Leander collapses to his knees in horror. “Baba!”

I catch her around the waist. “No.”

She slams her stiletto into my shin. “Let mego!”

Leander crawls toward the edge of the dais, hand outstretched. “Ariana…neraïdoula mou…”

Dragan kicks him in the ribs. “You weak fucking prick.You swallowed his lies then. Swallow this bullet now.”

“No!” Ariel is going feral in my arms, thrashing, screaming. “No. Baba! No?—”

I’m dragging her backward when the shot rings out.

Leander jerks.

Croaks.

And topples into the orchestra pit.

Ariel’s scream curdles my blood. Feliks shoves us behind a toppled table as doors burst open and Serbian soldiers begin to flood into the ballroom. Every last man, woman, and child in here is screaming or roaring, pulling out weapons, fleeing in whatever direction they can reach. “Sasha, we need to get the fuck out of here!”

“Get the others out, Feliks.” I clamp a hand over Ariel’s mouth, muffling her sobs. “Now.”

She bites my palm. I feel the spurt of blood. “Youbastard.This is your fault!” She’s screaming, clawing, a wild thing unraveling in my arms. My grip tightens—not enough to bruise, never enough to hurt—but she twists like a gutshot animal.

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