Page 34 of 10 Days to Surrender

Right before I drift off, I hear boots on gravel again. Still checking. Still watching. Still protecting.

The bastard.

Mybastard?

I’m not ready to answer that question yet.

13

SASHA

Kosti is waiting by the fence when I finish my hundredth lap in the dark, a cigarette dangling from his laps. “You keep smoking a pack a day and you won’t make it to the end of these ten weeks,” I warn him as I approach, tucking my gun in the back of my pants.

“If lung cancer was going to kill me, it would’ve done it by now.” He exhales a perfect smoke ring. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? I die and leave you alone with your mess?”

“God fucking forbid.”

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs. “Focus on what’s trying to kill you, yeah? You’ve got enough problems of your own without worrying about me.”

I grunt and lean against the fence beside him. The metal is still warm from the day’s heat. “Problems I can handle. It’s solutions that get messy.”

“That’s because your solutions are limited to ‘shoot it, threaten it, or throw money at it until it goes away.’” He takes another long drag. “How’s that working out with my niece, eh?”

I glance up at the window. A glimpse of movement—Ariel pacing, one hand pressed to her spine.

“Third time she’s made that circuit,” Kosti observes. “You two really are perfect for each other. Both wearing holes in the floor instead of sleeping like normal people.”

“She needs rest. The doctor said?—”

“Oh, please tell me you’re about to march up there and order her to lie down.” His eyes crinkle with unholy glee. “I could use the entertainment. Maybe she’ll throw you out the window this time.”

“Fuck off.”

“Such gratitude. Here I am, sacrificing my peaceful retirement to help you unfuck your life?—”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Would you have preferred to die in the snow?” He stubs out his cigarette and immediately lights another.

I clench my jaw. “Do you have a point to make, old man, or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice?”

“My point is that you’re still playingpakhanwith her. Everything’s an operation. A tactical maneuver. You’ve got your perimeter checks, your exit strategies, your?—”

“—because there are actual threats?—”

“—because it’s easier than admitting you’re terrified.” The amusement drops from his voice. “Easier than admitting that for the first time in your life, you can’t strong-arm your way to what you want.”

I scowl at the villa’s silhouette. “She’s the one treating this like a war.”

“Because you keep making it a battle, you idiot.” Kosti’s voice takes on that irritating know-it-all tone he gets sometimes. “You’re so focused on proving you can protect her that you forget to actuallycarefor her.”

“I do care,” I growl. “Or at least, I would. If she’d fucking let me.”

“Oh, she’ll let you. You just have to know what to do.”

“I’m supposed to—what? Serenade her? Buy chocolates?”

Kosti barks a laugh. “God, no. She’d fling them at your head.” He rolls yet another cigarette between his fingers, contemplative. “When my Eleni left me—third year of our marriage, can you believe it?—I camped on her cousin’s porch for a week. Brought herkoulourievery dawn. Fixed her father’s leaky roof.”

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