42Lucas
“How could you do this?”
The minute I walk through the front door, Yulia stalks toward me, all long legs and flowing blond hair. Her blue eyes are narrowed into slits, her nostrils all but breathing fire.
“Do what?” I ask, confused. I did receive a rather gruesome update from Ukraine this morning, but I don’t see how Yulia could’ve found out about that. “What are you talking about?”
“Misha,” she hisses, stopping in front of me. Her hands are clenched at her sides. “You told him about Kirill.”
“Oh.” I almost smile but think better of it. Yulia looks ready to deck me, and given her restored health, she might land a blow or two before I subdue her. Keeping my expression carefully neutral, I say in a reasonable tone, “Why shouldn’t I have told him? He deserves to know the truth. Y
