Page 141 of 10 Days to Surrender

I run through.

It’s chaos outside. Thunder unzips the sky. Rain comes from beneath me, pouring up from the ground and into the sky.

The village, a smear in the distance, writhes and takes shape. Becomes Jasmine at fifteen, crying in her wedding dress. Becomes Sasha, scarred throat bared to heaven. Becomes me, split open and spilling secrets into the night.

I step into the maelstrom.

Or maybe I don’t.

Maybe I never left that cellar at all.

55

SASHA

I explode from the shadows.

Rainwater drips from my hair as I charge into the firelight’s jagged halo. Dragan’s blade glints against Jasmine’s throat—a silver smile biting into innocent flesh. My pulse thrums in the scar at my neck.

Dragan tilts his head, serpent-slow. “Still playing white knight, Sasha?”

I spread my hands wide to show I’m holding no weapon. “Just making you a deal you’d be stupid to turn down.”

He laughs. “These Makris girls don’t know how good they have it with you. Always coming to the rescue.” His knife carves deeper into Jasmine’s throat. A bead of blood pearls and runs down the edge. “What deal could you possibly offer me, Ozerov?”

I stand tall, unmoving. “You want vengeance against me, yes? Then take me. Let them both go.”

His tongue flicks out, tasting Jasmine’s fear. “Why? You think a quick death makes up for everything?”

“No. I know better than that. But you’ve studied me. You know which death would hurt worse. The one that doesn’t end,” I say, stepping into his orbit. “Watching everything I’ve built burn. How would that taste, Dragan? Sweeter than this?”

He arches a brow as he considers it. Beside him, Kosti stirs, crawling through his own blood.

Jasmine hiccups. “Sasha, don’t?—”

I cut her off with a dark laugh. “Don’t pretend you give a shit whether I live or die, Jasmine. You can hate me for what I’ve done. I would hate me. And even if you were noble enough to forgive me, you shouldn’t. Don’t offer me redemption. I’m not worth it. I am my father’s son.” I face Dragan again. “Let her go. Take me instead.”

Dragan looks at me. At Jasmine. Then he shrugs. “So be it. Kneel.”

I don’t even hesitate. Maybe I would have, once upon a time. But what do I have left now to protect—my honor? My dignity? No, fuck that. Those things are beyond worthless.

I have my wife, my children, and the sister-in-law whom I have used again and again like a chisel to mold the world to my liking. I won’t use her anymore. It’s my time to be used.

If my death protects them, so be it.

If it must happen in the dirt, so be it.

I sink to my knees.

“You,” Dragan barks at one of his men. “Give me your gun.”

He turns and smashes the butt of the weapon into my jaw. I see stars as something cracks within my mouth. Bone, tooth, I can’t be sure—but the hot taste of blood follows soon after.

Then he presses the gun… to Jasmine’s forehead.

I freeze. He grins wide. “So hard to choose,” he murmurs, “which one should go first. Do I flip a coin? Eenie, meenie, minie…”

He dances the gun back and forth, from my head to hers, from hers to mine.

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