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“She broke you,” Raisa said as she dropped down next to her sister.
The corner of Delaney’s mouth twitched. “As intended.”
Delaney was smart, but so was Isabel.
She had known that Delaney would figure out a way to avoid killing her protégé.
But Isabel had left Delaney with no choice but to killher.
“Insulin?” Raisa asked.
Delaney shot her a look, and Raisa held her hands up. “No recorder. No wires.”
“Right,” Delaney huffed. “I’m going to tell Little Miss Goody Two-shoes that I killed our sister.”
“I’m sorry,” Raisa said.
She was sorry Delaney had been driven to that point—over a line in the sand she’d always refused to cross before.
She was sorry Delaney had to bear the weight of that alone when Isabel had been out for both of their blood.
She was sorry that they were the two left standing. That they were each other’s family when Raisa couldn’t bear to call her that.
And, technically, Raisa should’ve been attempting to arrest Delaney.
There would be no evidence, no trace of anything.
“Okay, hypothetically speaking,” Raisa said, mostly because she was nosy. “How would someone go about that?”
“Someonemight have paid off an inmate to try to assassinate Isabel within the prison,” Delaney said. “Because thatsomeonerealized that Isabel was never going to stop trying to kill people. And thatsomeonefelt like they’d spent their life making a huge mistake in letting her live.”
“And when the shiv attempt didn’t work,” Raisa prodded.
“Someonemight have researched all the guards until they found one with a personal vendetta against scumbag murderers,” Delaney said, kicking her feet out. “The guard easily snuck a syringe of insulin intothe prison and then pricked Isabel right before roll call. It took a couple hours for her to actually die in her sleep.”
“That guard should probably be fired,” Raisa mused.
“And they would be, if this was anything other than a hypothetical,” Delaney said with a shrug. “Someonemight also know that said guard is planning on taking her ill-gotten money and retiring to some island on the other side of the world, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It really, really doesn’t,” Raisa said, and Delaney smirked.
“That’s where we differ,” Delaney murmured.
“Where did you get the insulin?” Raisa asked, for lack of any better question.
Delaney shot her a pitying glance. “Please tell me you’ve ventured onto the dark web at least once. It will help you with your career if you get a passing familiarity with what’s available on there.”
“I’ve been on it,” Raisa said, though they both knew she was lying. “Anyway. When did Isabel know? What you had planned.”
“When I went to visit her,” Delaney said. “Maybe six months ago. She wanted to play a game. I said I wouldn’t do it.”
Isabel had never been made for prison, but she wasn’t exactly built for suicide, either. Her ego was too dominant—it would have fought tooth and nail to stay alive.
So she’d tried to arrange it to where she could pull the pin and take Raisa and Delaney down with her.
Her ultimate dream. Making themhersfor eternity.
But not even Isabel could outsmart her own death.