PIPER
Timofey's mansion is huge, but there isn't enough square footage in the world to handle my pacing.
I can clearly see the path I've worn in the plush rug in my room. It's been two hours since he streaked out of his driveway in one of the black sports cars from his fleet of vehicles, but it feels like a lifetime.
"They're fine," I tell myself, inhaling and exhaling in an even measure to settle my heart rate. "Ashley is fine. Timofey will take care of her."
I want to laugh at the absurdity of my own pep talk. In no world did I imagine I would be depending on Timofey for the health and safety of one of my best friends. Or for anyone, for that matter.
Then again, he's saved me almost more times than I can count. At some point, I will have to reconcile the two sides of him, but I don't know if I'm capable of it now.
She isn't worth your life.
