Claim Me

Chapter 10

10

Yulia

I sleep fitfully my first night at the safe house, waking up every couple of hours from nightmares. I don’t remember the exact details of those dreams, but I know Lucas is in them, and so is my brother. The scenes are a blur in my mind, but I recall bits and pieces involving trains, lizards, gunfire, and underneath it all, the delicate scent of lilacs.

Around five in the morning, I give up trying to fall back asleep. Getting up, I put on a robe and wander into the kitchen to make myself some tea. Obenko is there, reading a newspaper, and as I enter, he looks up, his hazel eyes sharp and clear despite the early hour.

“Jet-lagged?” he asks, and I nod. It’s as good of an explanation for my state as any.

“Want some tea?” I offer, pouring water into a tea kettle and setting it on the stove.

“No, thanks.” He studies me, and I wonder what he’s seeing. A traitor? A failure? Someone who’s now more of a liability than an asset? I used to care what my boss thought, craving his approval as I once craved my parents’, but right now, I can’t work up any interest in his opinion.

There’s only one thing I care about this morning.

“My brother,” I say, sitting down after I make myself a cup of Earl Grey. “How is he? Where’s your sister’s family now?”

“They’re safe.” Obenko folds his newspaper. “We’ve relocated them to a different location.”

“Do you have any new pictures for me?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager.

“No.” Obenko sighs. “We thought you were gone, and when you contacted us, I’m afraid taking photos wasn’t our main priority.”

I take a scalding sip of tea to mask my disappointment. “I see.”

Obenko lets out another sigh. “Yulia… It’s been eleven years. You need to let go of Misha. Your brother has a life that doesn’t involve you.”

“I know that, but I don’t think a few pictures every now and then is too much to ask.” My tone is sharper than I intended. “It’s not like I’m asking to see him…” I pause as the idea takes hold of me. “Well, actually, since you don’t have the pictures, maybe I can just view him from a distance,” I say, my pulse accelerating in excitement. “I could use binoculars or a telescope. He would never know.”

Obenko’s gaze hardens. “We’ve talked about this, Yulia. You know why you can’t see him.”

“Because it would deepen my irrational attachment,” I say, parroting his words to me. “Yes, I know you said that, but I disagree. I could’ve died in that Russian prison, or been tortured to death by Esguerra. The fact that I’m sitting here today—“

“Has nothing to do with Misha and the agreement we made eleven years ago,” Obenko says. “You f****d up on this assignment. Because of you, your brother has already been uprooted, forced to change schools and give up his friends. You don’t get to make demands today.”

My fingers tighten on the tea cup. “I’m not demanding,” I say evenly. “I’m asking. I know it was my mistake that led to this situation, and I’m sorry. But I don’t see how that’s relevant to the matter at hand. I spent six years in Moscow doing exactly what you wanted me to do. I sent you a lot of valuable intel. All I want in return is to see my brother from a distance. I wouldn’t approach him, wouldn’t speak to him—I would just look at him. Why is that a problem?”

Obenko stands up. “Drink your tea, Yulia,” he says, ignoring my question. “There will be another debriefing at eleven.”