Page 70 of 10 Days to Surrender

I crack one eye open to find Kosti looming over my bed with the smugness of a man who’s been awake for hours. “Rise and shine,neania. We’re going shooting.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

I grunt and roll over, burying my face in the pillow. Every muscle protests the movement. Not surprising, given how I spent last night. And the night before that. And the night before that.

For the last week since the taverna negotiation, every midnight has been the exact same. It’s simple math: Ariel plus darkness equals release. I sneak into her room to fuck. There are no feelings, no marks, and no sleeping over. Just friction and need. Just her nails down my back as she bites her lip to keep quiet. Just my hand over her mouth when she forgets herself.

Just math.

“I saidup.”A balled-up pair of socks hits my ribs. “Up, up, up. Your aim’s gone to shit and we both know it.”

This is how men like us sayI worry you’ll get yourself killed, because fuck knows we could never say those words straight up.

“My aim is fine,” I snarl. “You, on the other hand, are starting to sound like the dementia is catching up.”

Kosti clucks his tongue. “You won’t sass your way out of this one, son. You think Dragan is going to wait until you get your feet back under you? Until you’re back in tippy-top shape? Fuck no, he won’t.” He yanks the pillow away from me. “Get your ass up, boy. You’ve been avoiding this long enough.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I lever myself upright, wincing. The bullet wound in my side pulls tight, a constant reminder of how far I’ve fallen. Used to be that I could take three rounds to the chest and still wake up swinging. Now, look at me—hiding in the Tuscan countryside, sneaking into Ariel’s room every night like a teenager because I’m too weak to do anything else.

I peel myself off sweat-damp sheets, exhausted and depleted.

“Anyhow,” Kosti says as I rise, “I’m sick of you moping. You and Ariel not looking at each other—it’s exhausting.”

No,exhaustingis spending every night buried inside of her. When I’m there, I think of nothing. When I’m not there, I think of being there. My whole day is spent dreaming of the stolen hours we can fuck and forget.

Fucktoforget, rather. The sex is a way of keeping heavier things at bay.

So far, it’s working.

Yakov would have words about this. None of them kind.

“I don’t mope.”

“No. Youbrood. It’s worse.” His gaze lingers on the fresh scratches down my back, but he says nothing. “I’ll be in the car.”

When he’s gone, I dress mechanically in the predawn darkness. Tactical pants, boots. My hands only shake a little as I do up the laces. Progress, I suppose.

I linger for a second by Ariel’s closed door, thinking of how nice it would be to slip in there and greet the morning with her in my arms. Then, with a sigh, I turn and keep going.

The drive to the abandoned quarry is mostly quiet. Kosti hums along to Italian pop songs while I stare at the sunrise bleeding over the hills. Ariel’s scent still clings to my palms.

The case with my favorite Glock sits heavy in my lap. I’ve barely touched it since we got here. Another thing Yakov would’ve had words about.

The quarry is exactly what you’d expect: a massive bite taken out of the mountainside, leaving behind tiered walls of craggy, exposed limestone. At the bottom, weathered targets dot the gravel and empty brass casings glint in the dirt—evidence of Kosti’s solo practice sessions.

“Nervous?” Kosti asks, slinging his AK over one shoulder as we leave the car and walk to where we’ll set up.

I slam the magazine home harder than necessary. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

I check the Glock with movements that should be automatic but aren’t. Muscle memory fights with injury as I load the magazine. The familiar weight feels wrong in my palms, like reuniting with an old friend only to find they’ve changed.

Or maybe I’m the one who’s different.

I line up with the beer can resting on a rock about fifty yards out. No matter what my body has gone through, this part never leaves me.

Exhale.

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