Misha looks at the two of us, something unreadable crossing his face. Then he bolts to his feet. “I should’ve gone with them.”
“No!” Mila and I cry at the same time.
“It’s too dangerous, Misha,” I add. “And you’re—”
“Don’t tell me I’m a child. I’m not like other kids my age.” His eyes flash defiantly and, despite the fact that I know he’s right, I can’t fathom letting him walk into any danger.
“But you’re still a kid. You deserve to be protected.”
From danger. From the realities of this world. Misha shouldn’t even know this kind of dark underbelly exists.
“I want to earn my place. I want to be the one protecting the people I care about.”
The frustration in his voice is obvious. And it terrifies me.
Nervous as I was to see Andrey go and scared as I am that he’ll be hurt—imagining M
