MISCHA FELT A WAVE of dread in her stomach as she stood outside her cell door with her mates, waiting for their only outside today.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqJaH0N1d06
Would today be the day? Would today be the day they made their move in the prison yard? Presumably, they'd want to put as much time as possible between Rihanna's death and hers, for appearance's sake, but they also had her upcoming appeal on the other side. They were running out of days. And every day it didn't happen made the next day more likely.
They slowly marched down to the day area, out to the administration quarters in the center, and down the corridor of H wing.
She spotted her standing in the hallway, monitoring the inmates as they trudged forward. Josette. As always, waiting for her on her way to the prison yard.
Mischa felt a spike of adrenaline. Her heart battered her chest as if a prizefighter were using it for a punching bag.
Votre belle-soeur laide, her cellmates called her, though not to her face. Her ugly stepsister. She had plenty of reasons to hate Josette. First her attempt to make Mischa submit to her sexually, which would have turned very ugly had it not been interrupted by Lise's attempted helicopter escape. More to the point, she murdered Felice, bludgeoned her with a smile on her face, doing it for Mischa and because of Mischa.
They made eye contact. Josette gave her a smile of smug superiority, of eminent satisfaction.
In response, Mischa winked at her.
Josette did a double take. She hadn't expected that and she sure as hell didn't like it.
"Barton, le mur a l'attention!" she shouted. She was calling her out of the line, telling her to walk to the opposite wall and to stand at attention.
Mischa walked to the wall as ordered, stood ramrod-straight, eyes forward, arms down, as Josette approached her. She stood at her side, looking at her profile. An inch or two taller than Mischa, her mouth lined up neatly against her ear.
In French, she said, "Is there something wrong with your eye?"
"No," Mischa answered.
"You don't wink at me," said Josette.
Mischa didn't answer, but she smirked. That probably pissed her off even more.
After a moment, she moved closer to Mischa. Still in French, and in a far quieter tone, she said. "What a shame about Felice. At least she died quickly."
Mischa didn't respond, keeping her eyes forward.
"But Rihanna?" Josette went on, still whispering. "Josette didn't die quickly. It was long and painful."
Mischa did a slow burn. Josette. She'd always suspected it. But hearing it, having it confirmed, filled her with venom. Josette had poisoned Rihanna and watched her die.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoHXquzUE52
In French, she whispered, "Have you ever seen someone struggle to breathe? It can be very difficult to watch. But in Rihanna's case, it was fun."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjkcU78aoUV
Mischa forced her mouth to stay shut, no matter how much she wanted to respond.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Vul18nPeD
"Nothing to say, Barton? You're not feeling so funny anymore?"337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYaEGp28gWf
Mischa's eyes moved toward the top corner of the hallway, the security camera, the red glowing light reminding them that their every move was being watched.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs0iLGMia8R
"That's all," Josette said in French. "We're done."337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKcxfg2MSgp
That was the signal for Mischa to return to the line of prisoners. She turned back toward the long row of inmates.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN3VUGkTUgs
But Josette was wrong. That wasn't all. They weren't done.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHa3MAJJvZj
Instead of getting back into line, she pivoted and lunged at Josette.337Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTsl5kEm9RE
