28
Lucas
“What do you want from us?” the boy asks in English, rubbing his throat with his handcuffed hands. His gaze swings between me and the bedroom door, and I know he’s deciding whether he should attack me to try to save his sister. “Are you going to kill us?”
His English is good, nearly as good as Yulia’s, which makes sense. UUR must’ve also taught him from an early age.
“No, Michael,” I say. “Not if your sister does what she’s told.” I wouldn’t kill him—and I certainly wouldn’t kill Yulia—but it’s best if the kid doesn’t know that yet. He may be young, but he’s strong and skilled for his age.
I’ll need leverage to keep him in line.
Sure enough, the boy’s chin juts out belligerently. “If you’re not going to kill us, why did you bring us here? I’m not going to betray my country,
