Page 24 of 10 Days to Surrender

“Don’t bother. I hate me enough for the both of us.” He shifts, gravel stirring under his boots. “But I’ll be damned if I leave you out here to die, Ariel. Like it or not, you’re coming with me. At least until I can ensure you’re safe.”

“Sash—”

“You owe me this,” I say. “If those are my children—and I know in my bones they are—then it falls to me to keep them safe. Let me do that much. Choose us. Choosethem.”

His hand—just one fingertip—kisses my belly. For as long as it’s touching me, I let myself hope.

Then he pulls it away. Tears sting my eyes. “Fuck you, Sasha Ozerov.”

A cloud thins out and lets enough moonlight through to pick out the blue of his eyes. They’re locked onto mine like they’ll never, ever look away.

He nods once. Then he turns and stomps back to the car.

And, God help me…

I follow.

9

ARIEL

The engine hums a lullaby. My head lolls against the window, glass cool on my cheek. I bite back a wince every time that a bump in the road jostles the babies into a fresh revolt.

But even if the little ones weren’t crying wolf over and over again, I’d still be uneasy. I feel like a bug getting thrown around by a wind that doesn’t give a damn where I go or how unpleasant the journey is. I’m the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and this car ride here is just another trip back down the water spout.

Sasha’s aftershave clings to the cramped air—cigarette ash, mint, and cedar. Familiar. Safe.

I hate how it steadies my pulse.

Jasmine pretends to sleep in the backseat. Kosti doesn’t pretend at all—his snores are the loudest thing in all of southern France. At least that’s the same as it’s always been.

I do my best to keep my gaze fixed on the rearview mirror. The bullet hole in it soaks up moonlight and cracks jitter across thereflective surface. I don’t think Uncle Kosti is getting his rental deposit back—this car’s as battle-scarred as the man driving it.

Sasha radiates heat from the driver’s seat, grip tight on the wheel. It’s hard not to look at him. He’s always seemed to have a gravity of his own. I fought against it for a while, then danced in it for a while after that. Now, I just want it out of my life.

The twins kick again, sharp and sudden. I stifle a gasp, though I can’t stop my hands from flying to the swell.

Sasha’s gaze darts to me.

“Don’t.” I turn away from him. “Just drive.”

He sighs and looks back at the road.

I wake up with a jolt when I feel the car leave the road. First, two tires, then four, go from asphalt to bumpy dirt. I look out the window to see the dullest gray light beginning to leak over the horizon.

Shit.I slept for longer than I meant to.

“What? Huh—Where?—?”

“They’ll be on every major highway looking for us,” Sasha explains without shifting his eyes to me. “And even if we duck Serbian eyes, driving a Peugeot with bullet holes in it doesn’t exactly scream ‘under the radar.’ Do youwant to explain to a French cop where we’re going and where we’re headed?”

I cross my arms over my chest. “A simple ‘resting for a while’ would have sufficed.”

He steers us through a gap in some collapsing wooden fencing and then behind a farmhouse set half a mile from the road. The thing has seen better days. Half the roof is caved in and bird shit cakes the siding in streaks of white.

“Not exactly the Four Seasons Paris,” he murmurs. “My apologies.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll survive.”

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