Page 32 of 10 Days to Surrender

My throat tightens. “Why not?”

“I’m waiting.”

“For?”

“A sign they won’t inherit their father’s talent for destruction, among other things.”

The knife twists deeper. “Ariel, if I could?—”

“Sasha, you have to stop.” She steps back, shadows swallowing her whole. “I just really don’t have the energy for any more serious conversations tonight.”

I open my mouth to argue, then stop and let it fall slack instead. “Alright. Go get some sleep.”

She stills. “Why do you even care? You’re taking care of us—yes, fine, I can at least understand that. But why do you… Why do you keep trying to talk to me?”

The truth sits heavy in my mouth.Because if you collapse, I’ll use my last breath to carry you. Because these ten weeks are all I get. Because I’ve memorized the exact shade of green your eyes turn before you cry, and I’d like to never, ever see that shade again.

“Enlightened self-interest,” I say instead. “Can’t fight Dragan if I’m stuck babysitting.”

Ariel laughs miserably and shakes her head. “There’s the bastard I remember.” She turns, sighs, and starts the slow trek up the stairs.

I could follow her. Maybe we could have a real conversation, an honest one, one where we stop hiding our bullshit and let the real truth come out, even if it’s ugly.

Or, if not that, then maybe I could get some sleep of my own. I’m running this broken body with nothing but fumes, and if I keep pushing it, sooner or later, everything will fail on me.

Instead, I make for the front door to do another lap around the perimeter. Checking for danger in every shadow.

In the darkness, I can almost convince myself that this temporary peace will be enough. That I can be content with just keeping them safe, with being a shadow at the edges of their lives.

Almost.

But as night thickens and the villa grows quiet, I hear one noise that’s worse than anything my enemies could ever produce: the soft sound of Ariel crying in her room. My hands knot into fists at my sides, nails biting into palms.

Ten weeks until I have to let them go.

Ten weeks to remember why I should.

12

ARIEL

Jasmine comes in a little bit after I finish crying. She stands and looks at me for a minute, then slides into bed beside me and pulls me into her arms. I don’t look at her eyes; I can’t. Instead, I let my gaze settle on the wallpaper. It’s got a pattern of faded roses that might’ve been pretty back when Julius Caesar was still in charge of these parts. Now, it’s just a washed-out ruin of what it once was.

“You’re an ugly crier, you know,” Jas informs me after a while.

I let loose a snotty giggle. “I can always count on you for the pick-me-up.”

She sighs and rubs a tear off my cheek. “I heard a bit of the argument,” she admits. “You okay?”

“Define ‘okay.’”

“Fair. I guess we’re all a little fucked-up by now, huh?”

“We’re so far beyond that, Jas.”

I look out of the window and Jasmine follows my gaze in time for both of us to see a tall, black shadow passing by the fence that rings the property. I know that shadow all too well.

“He’s up late,” she comments.

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