Claim Me

Chapter 19

19Yulia

My brother.

Kirill is training my brother.

I feel like I stepped into one of my nightmares. I need to back away, to leave before I’m seen, but I can’t move. My feet have grown roots, and my lungs scream for suddenly scarce air.

Misha and Kirill.

Student and teacher.

I taste vomit and my vision darkens, fading at the edges.

Run, Yulia. Go before it’s too late.

I want to obey the voice in my head, but I’m paralyzed, frozen in place.

Obenko didn’t just lie to me about Kirill’s death. He deceived me about everything.

I try to suck in oxygen, but my throat is too tight. The window wavers in front of me, like the lens of a shaking camera, and I realize it’s because I’m trembling violently, my fingers icy and numb as my palms press against the wall.

Run, Yulia. Now.

The voice gets more insistent, and I force myself to take a tiny step back. But I still can’t look away from the horror in front of me.

Go, Yulia! Run!

Before I can take another step, Misha glances at the window and freezes, staring straight at me.

I see his blue eyes widen, and then he shouts, “Intruder!” and leaps toward the window.

My paralysis finally breaks, and I turn and run.

My legs are like wooden sticks, stiff and clumsy, and I can’t get enough air. It’s as if I’m moving through quicksand, every step requiring desperate effort. I know it’s shock weighing me down, but the knowledge doesn’t help. My muscles feel like they belong to a stranger, and my feet are numb as they touch the ground.

The car. I need to get back to the car.

I focus on that one goal, on putting one foot in front of the other and not thinking. As I run, I feel the stiffness in my muscles fading, and I know adrenaline is finally kicking in, overpowering my shock.

“Yulia! Stop!”

It’s Obenko. Hearing him fills me with such rage that all remnants of my sluggishness fade. Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, my legs pumping with increasing desperation. If they catch me, I’m dead, and then nobody will make Obenko pay for his monstrous betrayal.

I will rot in a nameless grave while Kirill turns my brother into a conscienceless killing machine.

“Yulia!”

It’s a different voice calling my name. I recognize Kirill’s deeper tones, and sick terror explodes in my veins. The memories snake around me like poisonous vines. I try to push them away, but bits and pieces slip through, flashing through my brain in a disjointed reel.

Entering my room in the dorm. A large hand closing over my mouth as I’m grabbed from behind.

I run faster, the ground blurring in front of my eyes. My breath is coming in wheezing gasps, and my lungs are about to burst.

Struggling. Falling to the floor. A man on top of me. Immobilized, helpless.

I’m a dozen meters from the car, and I grip the keys in my pocket, preparing to jump in.

Pop! Pop! The car window shatters, and I zigzag to avoid the next bullet.

“Do not shoot to kill!” Kirill roars behind me. His voice sounds closer; he’s gaining on me. “I repeat, do not shoot to kill!”

The knowledge that he wants me alive is more terrifying than the idea of dying. Putting on another burst of speed, I leap for the car. The cab driver is on the ground, still unconscious, and I desperately hope none of the bullets hit him. I don’t have time to worry about it, though, because as I’m about to jam the keys into the door, a hand grips my shoulder.

I whirl around, gripping the keys like a weapon, and jab upward, aiming at my attacker’s eye. He jerks back, and I drop down and roll under the car, registering only dimly the smaller frame and light hair of my opponent.

It wasn’t Kirill who caught up with me; it was Misha.

I scramble to my feet on the other side of the car and begin running again. Even through my terror, I’m aware of an illogical flash of pride. My brother is a fast runner. Obenko had never mentioned that.

I hear him sprinting behind me, and I wonder if he knows who I am, if he realizes he’s killing his own sister. Is he in on Obenko’s deception, or did they lie to him too?

“Grab her!” Kirill shouts, and a hard body hits me in the back, knocking me to the ground. I manage to twist in the air, so I land on top of Misha, and before he has a chance to act, I punch him in the jaw and jump up to resume running.

Only it’s too late. As I turn, another body hits me, knocking me off my feet, and this time, I don’t have a chance to land a punch.

In a flash, my arm is twisted behind my back, and my face is pressed into the gritty dirt as a massive weight presses me down.

“Hello, Yulia,” my trainer whispers in my ear. “It’s good to see you again.”