Page 72 of 10 Days to Surrender

“Sasha—”

I load a fresh clip and start over. In my head, I’m seventeen again, in a basement, wire around my throat.Ssyklo.Boom.Ssyklo.Boom. Ssyk?—

Kosti steps into my eyeline and forces me to lower the gun. “Enough.”

“Move.”

“I’m not moving, and if you try to pull the trigger, you’ll blow your goddamn foot off. Let go of the gun, Sasha.”

I sigh and let him pry the gun from my slack fingers. He turns, cigarette still stashed in the corner of his mouth. With half a dozen quick, efficient shots, he obliterates the target.

Head. Head. Torso. Torso. Head. Groin.

Dead.

The truth molders between us, another corpse rotting in the Tuscan sun. I can’t outshoot a crippled octogenarian right now. Can’t protect Ariel. Can’t even protect myself.

He doesn’t have to say anything. I know what he’s thinking.

I’m not ready.Not even close.

Dragan’s out there somewhere, gathering his forces, encroaching on everything I’ve ever conquered. And here I am, missing paper targets and fucking Ariel in the dark like it’s going to fix anything.

“I left something in the car,” I lie. I don’t look at Kosti’s face—I just turn and march back up the hill.

When I reach the Peugeot, I slump into the passenger seat. The upholstery reeks of Kosti’s cigarettes. Through the windshield, he paces the quarry’s edge, phone pressed to his ear. Arguing with someone.

A memory surfaces—Zoya dabbing vodka on the knife wound I’d earned at sixteen, her hands steady as scalpels.You’re lucky it didn’t hit bone, she’d scolded.Next time, maybe you’ll think before picking fights with grown men.

Next time. Alwaysnexttime that I’ll be better, smarter, stronger, faster.

Except now there are nonexttimesleft. Just this—broken promises, a quarry full of spent casings, a villa full of bad choices.

Maybe I can make a good one for a fucking change.

Zoya answers on the second ring. “Solnyshko?” Her voice is warm honey and home. “I’ve been worried.”

I close my eyes and let her voice transport me somewhere else. I’m not in a sunbaked quarry anymore—I’m in her kitchen as she feeds me and Ariel honey cakes. “I wanted to keep you out of this,” I rasp to her. “I thought that was best. But… fuck. Maybe I was wrong about doing it all myself.”

Kitchen clatter dies down as Zoya stops whatever she was doing. “Tell me what you need from me, Sashenka.”

I tell her.

Then I hang up. March back down the hill. Line up my sights. Exhale. Steady. Gentle squeeze…

Bang.

The bullet hits dead center. Right through the paper heart.

28

ARIEL

The sheets still smell like him.

I shove my face into the pillow and breathe deep. It’s humiliating how that paints a stupid smile on my face. If I press my ear to it, I swear I can almost hear his murmured grunts still echoing, like how the inside of a seashell sounds like the ocean.

Just sex. Just sex.That’s the mantra. He says it, I say it, and we both pretend to believe it’s still true.

---