It was, I noticed, the same instinct Elena had described in the men Chloe met in hallways, the instinct of the cornered to sacrifice anyone within reach to save themselves.

A minute earlier she had been leaning over my body whispering my death like a lover.

Now, caught, she was ready to hand me Anthony’s head if it might buy her mercy.

There is no loyalty at the bottom of a conspiracy.

There is only the scramble, when it collapses, to be the one who gets away.

“Save it for the federal prosecutors, Chloe,” Marcus said, cold and unhurried, and he snapped handcuffs around Dr.

Harrison’s wrists, and another of his men secured Chloe’s hands behind her back.