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Would he realize what he’d done? Later, when she disappeared from the motel and his life altogether, without even a goodbye?
He probably wouldn’t—and she hoped that mystery haunted him.
Delaney could be petty, especially when she was being used.
You used him, too,some part of her whispered. But she’d used him in a way that had been honest. She’d wanted the relief of casual sex and had made no promises that she was looking for anything else.
He, on the other hand, had only wanted to get close to her because of who she was.
She hadn’t seen him since they’d parted ways yesterday evening—he hadn’t even tried to contact her. She now scrubbed the disappointment off her skin before dressing in all black for her plans.
When she left the motel, she couldn’t help but stare for one extra-long moment at the light in Roan’s window.
She should never have gone on that boat ride anyway.
There had just been something about enjoying the afternoon away from Isabel’s mind games that she hadn’t been able to resist.
A small slice of fantasy.
But that wasn’t her life now.
As ever, her life was about death.
“Let’s play a game, Lana,” Isabel said. Her hands were cuffed to the table, but she looked as in control as ever.
Relaxed, amused. Pleased that Delaney had finally come to see her.
“Delaney.”
“Look who’s all grown up,” Isabel purred. “It only took you about forty years to grow a spine, my dear. Although it is nice that it finally came in.”
“What do you want?” Delaney gritted out. She had done her best to remove Isabel from her life, from her mind. She had hidden herself from all the vultures who wanted a piece of her because Isabel was infamous; she’d turned down book deals to write the Parker girls’ story; she’d even let Raisa dictate their relationship, not for her sister’s benefit but because looking at Raisa reminded Delaney that she, herself, was far more like Isabel than Raisa.
“You hate yourself, don’t you?” Isabel asked, flatly curious.
Delaney didn’t say anything. How she felt about herself was ... complicated. She understood why Raisa hated her, she understood why Isabel couldn’t feel anything toward her. But she had survived by justifying her choices to herself—otherwise she probably would have drunk herself to death years ago.
Twenty-five years of that? Of telling herself that she’d done the right thing—for her family—had become fairly foundational to who she was as a person.
Did she hate that person? Maybe. She judged her, at the very least.
“What do you want?” Delaney spit out again.
“I want to give you a redemption arc,” Isabel said. “Aren’t those the very best stories? The villain becomes the hero we all deserve.”
Delaney drove to Gabbi’s place this time instead of the beach. She didn’t have to wait very long for Gabbi to emerge.
The girl who had idolized her sister.
Who, if Delaney was right, had become her.
Or, a less successful version of Isabel.
That was a bigif, though. So far, Gabbi had avoided incriminating herself. She’d made some leading comments about wanting to kill sexual predators, but they had all been couched in gauzy language, no matter how much Delaney had tried to draw her out into something more concrete.
The time for gentle probing was over, though.
Delaney needed to actually catch her in the act.