“Lucas, I think Misha should go home.”
I pause with the spoon halfway to my mouth. “Home?”
“To his parents,” Yulia clarifies, putting down her own utensil. Her bowl of soup steams in front of her, mostly eaten. “His adoptive parents.”
“I thought he was with your agency.” I put down my spoon and wipe my mouth with my napkin.
I’ve been expecting something like this since the incident this morning, and I’m not looking forward to this conversation.
“He was with UUR of his own free will, yes, but by all indications, he’s also close to his parents.” Yulia’s gaze is unflinching. “They let him join against their better judgement, and I’m sure they’re going crazy with worry for him now.”
I drum my fingers on the table. “So you want me to what, bring him back to them? What about the fact that
