Both officers look at me, and they immediately recognize the face of a predator. I don’t try to hide it. I let them see exactly what I am.
“Dane, no!”
Abigail’s hand tightens around mine, but I yank free of her weaker hold.
Prison has always been my worst-case scenario, ever since the day I shoved Peter out of the window when I was eleven years old. I’ve spent my entire life since then avoiding this fate.
I wanted so badly to have Abigail, but I was never worthy of her.
I never will be.
“I killed Stephen Lansing,” I announce without an ounce of remorse.
After everything I’ve done to Abigail, redemption isn’t possible. I stalked her and violated her. I kidnapped her and caged her. The least I can do now is walk into a cage of my own to save her.
52
DANE
Istare at the mangled remains of Stephen Lansing, and I don’t bother to prevent my lips from curving with vindictive pleasure.
The detective taps the photo. “You don’t seem disturbed by the crime scene.”
I blink, and my fleeting expression of cruel satisfaction drops away. I meet the detective squarely in the eye, and he flinches ever so slightly. He can sense that there’s an unrepentant predator in this tiny gray room with him.
“Why did you do it?” he presses. “Stephen must’ve done something terrible to deserve this kind of beating.”
I don’t say anything. I simply skewer the man with an icy stare.
I’m supposed to be under questioning, but he will be the one to squirm, not me.
The detective shifts in his seat and tries a different angle. “Something happened between the two of you, and things got heated. Maybe it went too far. Maybe you didn’t mean to kill him.”
He makes the suggestions like he’s extending a helping hand, offering me a scenario with a reduced sentence.
He thinks he can win some sort of battle of wills between us, but he doesn’t understand yet that I’m not engaging.
I confessed to the arresting officer in order to save Abigail, but I’m not going to give this man one more incriminating word out of my mouth.
The prospect of spending a life sentence in a cage sends a chill shuddering down my spine, but I resolutely ignore it. I will not show fear.
If it means securing Abigail’s freedom, I’ll pay any price. I’ll face the consequences for my actions, even if I don’t feel a shred of remorse for what I did to the bastard who assaulted her.
I’d kill him again a thousand times over.
She’s the only thing that matters to me.
A sharp knock on the door to the interrogation room cuts through the thick silence. The detective jolts with surprise, and he takes a moment to collect himself before standing to see who’s interrupting us.
A middle-aged woman with a severely sharp gray bob haircut waits in the open doorway.
“I’m Madeline Taylor, Dr. Graham’s solicitor,” she introduces herself.
“No,” I dismiss her before she can step foot in the room. “I’ve already waived my right to representation.”
I’ve already confessed. There’s no point trying to plead not guilty.
Ms. Taylor narrows her brown eyes on me. “I implore you to reconsider.”
