Page 1 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

DANE

I stare 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.”

It sounds more like a command than a request, and I raise a brow at her.

“No.”

“Lord Graham sent me,” she insists. “I’m here to ensure?—”

“Go away.” I don’t try to keep the snap from my tone. No fucking way am I accepting help from my father.

He’s not actually concerned with helping me; he’s trying to avoid a scandal.

I’m not even sure how he found out about my arrest so quickly, but I’m not surprised. He has connections in law enforcement and local government. Someone will have alerted him to the mess I’ve made.

“If Dr. Graham doesn’t consent to your presence, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the detective says.

He probably thinks that my refusal to cooperate will make his job easier. I plan to make this process as painfully frustrating for him as possible, and I don’t need a solicitor for that.

“Daniel!” My mother’s voice is shrill, echoing down the hallway just outside the interrogation room.

My stomach drops.

Fuck.

The last thing I want is to see my parents when I’m in such a vulnerable position.

Mum pushes Ms. Taylor aside and strides into the room, my father right behind her.

“You can’t be in here.” The detective’s chest puffs with outrage.

My father flicks an imperious wave at him. “Leave us.”

“I don’t think?—”

“This is Lord David Graham,” Ms. Taylor cuts him off in brittle tones. “If you want him to leave, complain to your superiors. See what they say to that.”

The detective’s cheeks turn red, and his shoulders stiffen. His jaw works as though he’s chewing over a retort as he exits the room.

“I’d like a private word with my son,” Dad tells the solicitor.

She quickly excuses herself with a deferential nod.

Her obsequiousness sets my teeth on edge. My father thinks he can buy anything he wants: her loyalty, the detective’s compliance, and my freedom.

But I’m not going anywhere. Abigail will not face arrest because of my cowardice. I will not bend to my family’s will.

“What have you done this time, Daniel?” My mother huffs, pale blue eyes flashing with fury. “A murder charge? I thought we were clear when you were a child. You’ve always known what would happen if you didn’t curb your violent nature.”

“Do you know what you might’ve cost this family?” Dad thunders, face going almost purple with his own rage. “If the chief constable hadn’t called me, this might’ve gone too far for damage control. As it is, you will be able to walk out of here within the hour, and this incident will be forgotten.”

“And then you’re coming home, where you belong,” Mum insists. “No more wayward behavior or galivanting off to America.”

“I gave up the fucking title, and I will not come home to accept it,” I growl, hackles up like a cornered beast. “Now, get out.”

My mother scoffs. “As if you would ever be allowed to inherit the title after what you’ve done. No, James remains the heir. You will come back to the estate where we can keep an eye on you.”

All of my muscles tense with barely suppressed aggression: the primal urge to defend myself. She wants to lock me in a cage far smaller than prison, even if it would seem vaster. I’d rather be confined to a cell than that awful manor with my parents as my jailors.

“I’ve already confessed.” I fling it at them like a grenade. “By the time the morning news comes out, your precious reputation will be in tatters.”

Mum splutters, at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

“Damn you!” Dad barks. “I will not permit this! Retract your statement.”

I lean back in my chair as though it’s a throne, enjoying my power over them. I’m about to condemn myself to jail, but I’ll take them down along with me.

“I hope this scandal ruins you. Just like you’ve deserved ever since you killed my sister. This punishment is thirty years overdue.”

“That was an accident,” he seethes. “You’re acting like a little boy with a grudge. If you want to act like a child, you will be treated like one.”

“Was it an accident to get behind the wheel of that Jeep when you were intoxicated?” I demand, my own decades-long rage bubbling to the fore.

“Was it an accident to pay off the authorities to look the other way about your blood alcohol level when you were taken to hospital, and they saved your miserable life? You know what you did. You killed your own daughter. Admit it!”

“Fine!” he rails. “I was an irresponsible parent. And it’s my greatest regret that you weren’t the one to die that night. You have no idea the shame you’ve caused this family, do you?”

“Your father’s right,” Mum adds, voice sharp enough to rake me like claws. “You’ve been rotten since the day you were born. What did I do to deserve a child like you, Daniel?”

“You made me this way!” I thunder. “You want to know why your precious heir is a psychopath? Look in the fucking mirror.”

“I won’t tolerate this nonsense any longer,” Dad growls. “Retract your statement, and then you’re coming home.”

I cross my arms over my chest and fix them with a heartless glower.

“You can’t control me any longer. There’s nothing you can do to stop this.

In a few hours, the news will break that you raised a murderer, and the Graham name will be dragged through the mud.

You deserve so much worse, but I’ll do everything in my power to destroy your precious reputation.

It’s the only thing you’ve ever cared about, and I will make sure you never recover from this. ”

My mother buries her face in her hand, and my father’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

My lips curve in my cruelest smile.

“You wanted me to be part of the family unit, didn’t you?” I drawl. “You’re finally getting your wish. We all go down together.”