Dylan's face contorted with rage as he stared at me across the interrogation table. His handcuffs rattled against the metal surface when he tried to lean forward.
"I have nothing to say to you," he spat. "This changes nothing."
I maintained eye contact, unflinching. "You still don't get it, do you? Imogen has abandoned you. She used you to do her dirty work and now she's painting herself as the hero who turned you in."
"Shut up!" Dylan's voice cracked. "You don't know anything about her. About us."
Detective Pierce, who stood in the corner observing, stepped forward. "Mr. Ollie, cooperating now could help your case. The prosecutor will take that into consideration."
Dylan laughed bitterly. "My case? I'm already going down for murder. What's a little framing on top of that?"
I glanced at Nathaniel, who stood silently behind me. He gave me a subtle nod, our silent communication perfected over months together.
