Page 83 of Inked in Devotion

“Renée,” he said her name in a bland voice.

“You did, didn’t you?”

His eyes flickered. “I was told I did.”

“Told? By whom?” My laugh caught in a sob, broken and ugly.

“I remembered carving the word whore,” he replied. “I don’t remember much after it.”

“You’re telling me you don’t remember killing my mother?”

He shrugged.

My chest tightened. “You’re messing with me.”

He sighed as if exhausted and then looked away. “That’s the truth.”

“Look at me.”

He did. His eyes veiled an expression that looked a lot like calculation.

“You’ve got a sick mind, Jeremiah. They finally locked you up and you’re trying to rewrite your sins and absolve yourself.”

“They locked me up because I ceased being useful.”

My breath skittered. “Useful to whom?”

“Why are you here, Chloe?”

“I want the truth. Did you kill my mother? Yes or no? That’s a simple question.”

“They got to you, didn’t they?”

“What?” I whispered.

The silence stretched between us until finally, he said, “My mind is susceptible.” His words were devoid of emotion. Like he was a robot. “I was given things that molded my reality.”

“Drugs.”

A faint nod.

“That doesn’t absolve you!” I cried. “You still killed them.”

His gaze darkened. “If it makes you feel better to think I did⁠—”

“Stop messing with me!”

He shrugged. There was no regret. This fucker needed to go to jail. Not live out his life in a five-star wellness resort.

He backed away from the door. He was ending our conversation.

“Wait!” My voice caught in the fury churning from inside me. “Tell me where you put my mother!”

He paused in his retreat. “She’s long gone, Chloe. No traces left.” His eyes flickered briefly. “Sister…you have to move on.”

“I don’t forgive you!”

“Asking for forgiveness means regrets. I don’t regret my actions.”