10 Days to Surrender (Ozerov Bratva #2)

51. Sasha

51

SASHA

I thought I would’ve been better prepared for this. How many times have I watched men die at my feet, cursing my name with their last breaths? How much blood have I seen oozing into the ground right in front of me?

I’ve seen death. Hatred. God knows I’ve seen blood.

Nothing made me ready for this, though.

The storm howls like a living thing. In front of me, lying prostrate in the dirt, Ariel screams like the exact opposite: like something unholy and wrong. Through the curtain of rain, I watch as her face—my wife’s face, my fucking wife —contorts in pain. Every bolt of lightning illuminates it whiter and whiter, worse and worse.

Another contraction hits. Ariel’s fingers dig into the ground. Blood trickles from the corner of her mouth where she’s bitten through her cheek to keep from screaming.

My feet won’t move. I’m caught between the magnetic poles of duty and love, paralyzed by the choice before me.

Feliks’s phone buzzes. He answers, listens, then curses violently in Russian. “ Blyat’ . Boss?—”

“Not now.” My voice sounds strange, distant.

“You need to hear this.” He grabs my shoulder, forces me to look at him. “Roza just called. Dragan’s men are hitting us everywhere at once. The warehouse on 49th. The clubs in Brighton Beach. The shipping terminal. Even the old safehouse in Queens. They knew exactly where to strike.”

The implications sink in slowly, like poison spreading through my veins. “Kosti.”

“He must have been feeding them intel for weeks. Maybe months.” Feliks runs a hand through his rain-soaked hair. “Everything we rebuilt after the last attack—it’s all burning, boss. Right fucking now.”

My empire is crumbling. Again. But this time, the betrayal cuts deeper because it comes from within.

From family .

Another bolt of lightning splits the sky. In its flash, I see Ariel’s jaw open wide, but no sound comes out.

“The contractions are too close together,” Zoya says, her voice tight with worry. “The babies are coming.”

The old me wouldn’t have hesitated. The old me would already be in a car, racing toward the coordinates on Kosti’s burner, leaving a trail of blood and bodies in my wake. The old me would’ve chosen power over love every single time.

But I’m not that man anymore.

… Am I?

I close my eyes. Everything I’ve built, everything I’ve killed for, is slipping through my fingers like water. One word from me could save it all. One choice.

Another scream tears through the storm. This one isn’t thunder—it’s Ariel.

My eyes snap open. “Tell Roza to get everyone out. Save what they can.”

“And Kosti?”

“Let him run.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Sasha?—”

“I said let him fucking run.” I’m already moving toward Ariel. “My wife needs me.”

But before I can reach her, something catches my eye. Jasmine, who’s been silent since reading Kosti’s letter, suddenly stands. Her face is a mask of cold fury I’ve never seen before.

Feliks doesn’t see it coming. None of us do. One moment, Jasmine’s a statue, carved from marble and old scars. The next?—

She lunges forward and snatches the gun from his hand, along with the burner phone. Growling, he lunges right back at her—but he freezes when she levels the gun at his chest.

Everyone goes deathly still. “Jasm?—”

“Not another fucking word, Sasha.” Her voice doesn’t shake. It’s the steady hum of high-tension wires carrying too much load.

Behind me, Ariel’s scream crests and breaks against the storm. I don’t turn. Can’t. Every muscle coils, ready to intervene—but the gun’s safety switches off with a click that drowns out thunder.

Feliks leans toward her, hand outstretched. “Jasmine, if you just give me the?—”

“Try it,” she dares. “See what happens.”

He takes a half-step forward. “Jasmine, goddammit, put that down before?—”

The gun swings his way. “Back. The. Fuck. Up.”

Rain soaks through my shirt, my skin, my bones. I taste iron. Everything’s rusted through.

“Jasmine,” I say carefully, “you don’t want to do this.”

“Really?” Her laugh is bitter, sharp-edged. “You think you know what I want? You’ve always thought that, haven’t you? That you know best. That we should all dance to your song.”

“Jas—”

“Fifteen years,” she whispers. “For fifteen years, I’ve been grateful to you. Thanked you in my prayers. Called you my savior .” She spits the last word like it tastes foul. “But you weren’t saving me at all, were you? You were just… trading up. A better deal. A fresher pawn.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say. The same thing I told Ariel. But the words sound hollow even to my own ears the second time around.

“Oh, yes, it was.” She sighs. “But as much as I might want to, I won’t kill you. Not because my sister loved you, though the devil knows you don’t deserve a drop of her goodness. I’m only letting you live because of those children. You won’t ever see them, if I have my way. You’ll never lay a fucking finger on them. But they will know that somewhere out in the world, you exist. That’s for them. Not for you.”

Jasmine’s eyes— her eyes, Ariel’s eyes, Makris eyes—glint in the lightning. “Now, answer me this: Is he with Dragan?”

“You should?—”

She jabs the gun into my chest. “Where is Kosti going?” The gun doesn’t waver. “Tell me the truth. You think he’s with Dragan, don’t you?”

I hesitate. Behind me, thunder crashes.

The safety clicks off.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jasmine snarls. “Not again. Never again. Where. Is. He. Going?”

I close my eyes briefly. “Yes. The coordinates on that phone—my best guess is that they lead to Dragan.”

“Good.” She starts backing away, the gun still trained on my heart. “That’s where I’m going, then.”

“ Ti mou, ” Belle cries, “please?—”

“Don’t follow me.” Jasmine’s voice lashes out. “Any of you. I mean it. I’m done being pushed around. Done being someone’s piece. From now on, I move myself.”

“You’ll die,” I tell her roughly.

Her smile is terrible to behold. “Maybe. But at least it will be my choice. My move. For once in my life, I get to decide what happens to Jasmine Makris.”

She retreats. A step at a time. The rain pounds harder. Through sheets of it, I watch her fade into shadow.

Then she’s gone.

I stand frozen, staring into the darkness where she disappeared. The coordinates on that phone will lead her straight to Dragan. To certain death.

But when I turn back to Ariel, I know I cannot follow. She’s curled on her side in the mud, face contorted in agony as another contraction rips through her.

My wife needs me.

My children need me.

Even as my sister-in-law runs headlong into death’s arms, I know there’s only one choice I can make.

I drop to my knees beside Ariel and gather her into my arms. “I’ve got you, ptichka ,” I whisper. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She sobs and clutches my shirt. Whether from pain or grief or if she simply wants to drag me into the pain with her, I’ll never know.

But I do know this: sometimes, the most brutal choice is staying still while the world burns around you.

So here I stay.

As thunder shakes the sky, here I stay.

As Jasmine races toward death, here I stay.

As Kosti spins his webs, as Dragan laughs, as my empire is reduced to rubble and ash…

Here I stay. Here I stay. Here I stay .