Page 138 of 10 Days to Surrender

Of course it’s here. When the coordinates from Kosti’s phone dropped a pin on the map at this spot, I could only laugh out loud.

Almost ten weeks ago, Ariel and I sat in the pew here and I asked her to marry me.

These babies aren’t your redemption arc,she told me then.

She was right. They’re not. Jasmine is not.Sheis not.

But does that mean I cannot be redeemed?

Fuck if I know. It’s not like my mind is clear enough to sort through things like that right now. I’m a half-drowned rat. The ride here was a wet, frigid hell and my hands still have Ariel’sblood caked under the fingernails—but I could swear I catch the milk-sweet scent of our children still clinging to my clothes.

I catch something else, too, as I leap off the bike and abandon it in the courtyard: Jasmine, slipping through the doors of the church as they loll wide like black tongues.

Feliks catches up to me and dumps his bike next to mine. “Sash?—”

But I’m already chasing after Jasmine. I call her name, but she can’t hear me over the storm. She disappears inside.

Fuck.

The place is dying to give up and collapse in on itself. Frescoes loom eerily in the lightning flash—saints with their eyes clawed out. The ivy-choked facade is more crack than not, with gaping holes where stained glass windows once filtered light into sacred spaces. Now, those holes just let the storm howl through like a demon’s choir.

I’m half a step in the doors, hot on Jasmine’s tracks, when I freeze.

“—should’ve stayed buried,kurvo.”

I’m still housed in enough shadow to stay out of sight. But halfway down the aisle stands Jasmine.

On the altar is Dragan Vukovic.

Kosti is at his side, looking more exhausted than I’ve ever seen him before.

Jasmine cuts a proud figure in the gloomy, rain-drenched dark. Feliks’s gun shines bright in her hand, reflecting the sputtering firelight from the sconces that Dragan has lit.

I want to throw myself between her and them, but we’re all spread too far. Dragan would bury a bullet in my skull before I even got halfway there.

So I start to edge around the perimeter in search of a better angle. It’s slow-going, though, and with this much shattered glass and debris underfoot, one wrong step could tell them I’m here. Every step must be careful.

“You don’t get to call me that,” she calls out.

Dragan chuckles. “Kurvo. Kukavico.Daughter of a fucking corpse.”

She shakes her head, wet hair slinging back and forth. “Do you feel good when you say those things? Do you feel like a man when you curse at me? When you put your hands on me?”

Kosti clears his throat. “Jasm?—”

But her name isn’t even halfway out of his mouth before Dragan turns and pistol-whips him with the butt of his gun.

I feel it like I’m the one who was struck. A tooth of Kosti’s goes flying, followed by a spray of blood. He drops to one knee, coughing, wheezing.

Slowly, Dragan revolves to face Jasmine once again. “What do you expect to happen here tonight, little one?” He spreads his arms wide. “How would you like for this to go?”

Jasmine raises the gun. Her hands are quivering and the tip of the gun spirals wildly out of control.

Dragan smirks. “You think pointing that toy makes you brave? I remember how you screamed when?—”

She fires.

The bullet grazes his ear. He laughs, blood threading his jawline. “That is about what I thought,” he says with a nod.

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