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Now, like Rodion, I’m about to experience it firsthand—and I can’t say I blame him. I’m doing my best to shove aside the painful horror that Benjamin is missing, but it gnaws at my insides nonetheless.
“Timofey, please.” I search his eyes for some small part of him that cares for me. Thatbelievesme. “I really have no clue—”
“You’re in her house, Piper,” he hisses. “Noelle came to see me tonight. She claimed to have some information for me about Emily. Next thing I know, Benjamin is gone. Explain that.”
I frown. “She came to see you?”
His top lip curls. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
“I don’t! I didn’t!”
“You’re sitting here waiting for her. You and one of your best fucking friends worked together to kidnap my son. I want him back. Now.”
“No. No! That isn’t what—I’m not here to see her,” I stammer. “I came here to…”
The words die in my throat, along with my hope.
Timofey killed Rodion in cold blood. They’d known each other for years—practically grew up together—and he still killed him without hesitation. How much worse would he treat Noelle?
If I tell Timofey that Noelle is working with the Albanians, he’ll kill her. Forget the information the FBI has on her. Forget a jury or a trail. Timofey will execute Noelle without a second thought. She may have betrayed me and she may have committed fraud, but she isn’t a kidnapper. She wouldn’t hurt ababy.
I can’t let what happened to Rodion happen to her.
“Came here to what?” he hisses. “Having trouble coming up with a lie?”
I shove aside my fear and lift my chin, meeting Timofey’s cold blue eyes. “No, I’m saving my breath. You won’t believe a word I say anyway. So I might as well save my energy. I get the feeling I’m going to need it.”
His nostrils flare and his breathing hitches like he’s going to say something. I brace myself for the verbal onslaught. For words that will hurt worse than anything his hands could do.
But it won’t matter. Timofey will do anything for the people he loves, but I can endure anything for the people I love. I know because I’ve been doing it most of my life.
So let him try to hurt me. I won’t break. I can’t afford to.
But instead of saying anything, Timofey lets me go. There is a moment of relief before he hauls me to my feet, shoves me across the room, and pushes me into the closet.
I catch myself from smashing into the back wall with both hands, and then Timofey presses in after me. He squeezes in, taking all of the extra oxygen with him, and closes the door.
Even in the dark, I see the sadistic snarl on his face.
“Well, this is cozy,” he says. “You, me, and your claustrophobia should fit nicely in here, don’t you think?”
I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out.
It’s hard to speak when you’re dying.
3
TIMOFEY
It’s only been a minute and Piper is already wheezing.
Her breaths whistle in and out of her as if my hand was wrapped around her throat. Like I’m crushing her chest.
But I’m not even touching her. I’m leaning against the closed door, watching her fall apart.
“I don’t know,” she whimpers. “If I did, I’d tell you.”
“Lies won’t free you, Piper.”
