Page 108 of The Psychopaths

“Please, stop,” I whisper, unable to watch more. “I’ve seen enough.”

He closes the laptop with a soft click that seems to echo in the silent room. I stand motionless, trying to process everything,trying to reconcile the Aries from my fantasies with the man who left me like discarded trash.

“I want to see him,” I finally speak, my voice steadier than I feel.

Arson’s head snaps up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask if it was a good idea.” I move toward the pile of clothes he left out for me. T-shirt and sweatpants. All his, all too big, but at least they’re clean and dry. I pull them on, my hands trembling. “I need to hear him say it.”

“What exactly do you think he’s going to say?” Arson questions warily. “That he’s sorry? That it was a mistake? That deep down he actually gives a fuck?”

I don’t bother confirming that those are, in fact, the things I hope he says, so I ignore them and focus on getting dressed. Once fully clothed, I turn to him.

“You can’t stop me,” I tell him, though we both know that’s not true.

He could lock me in this room if he wanted. Could restrain me as easily as he has Aries. I don’t doubt that he would do just that, but I’m too invested in understanding what happened to give a shit. With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair in a gesture that is so reminiscent of his twin, it makes my chest ache.

“If that’s what you want, then fine. I’m coming with you, though.”

“I expected that.”

The walk to Aries’s cell is silent, tension building with each step. Every muscle screams in protest of the movement, my muscles sore and joints stiff from yesterday’s violence. I do my best to ignore the discomfort, focusing on the confrontation ahead.

Aries is awake when we reach the observation window. He sits on the edge of his cot, wrists and ankles bound by chains that allow limited movement and zero chance of escape.

The evidence of the fight with Arson is reflected on his face. A split lip, bruised cheek, and a cut above his eyebrow that probably needs stitches. No matter what, he’s still beautiful, still the man I dreamed of for so many years, even if it feels like I don’t know him right now.

“Well, isn’t this touching?” he greets us, his mocking voice carrying clearly through the intercom Arson activates. “The happy couple comes to visit.”

Everything inside me says this is wrong. This isn’t the man I longed for and lusted after for two years. I step closer to the glass, aware that Arson watches us carefully.

“Why?” The single word holds all my confusion, all my hurt.

Aries’s eyes—identical to Arson’s but somehow colder—meet mine with casual indifference. “What is it that you’re asking? Why did I fuck you? Because you were there. Because I knew it would hurt him.” He nods toward Arson. “Plus, you’ve been begging for my dick since you were sixteen. A man can only resist for so long.”

How could he… how could he talk like that?It hurts.It hurts so fucking bad. I press my palms against the glass, needing its solidity to keep myself upright.

“Stop trying to make me hate you. Stop with the games. Why did you leave me there?” My voice cracks as all my emotions threaten to break free. “Unconscious. Hurt.”

He merely shrugs, the chains rattling with the movement.

“I don’t recall you complaining when you came all over my cock. It’s not like I left you unsatisfied. You served your purpose, and I was done. I didn’t count on my brother showing such attachment to you, so in the end, you were the distraction I needed to get out of here.”

Cruelty seeps from his pores, its stench so heavy I can barely breathe. This isn’t the Aries I thought I knew. No, this is the man he was all along. The man hidden behind careful distance and polite rejection. This is the real him, the one without a mask.

“Oh, come on. What did you expect?” Aries asks, leaning forward as far as his chains allow. “I can see the disappointment on your face, Lil. What did you think would happen? That I would announce my love for you? That I would sweep you into my arms and care for you?”

I blink back tears, trying to hold my emotions in. A mockery of a smile appears on his lips, clear satisfaction at the pain riddling my features.

“You spent years tempting me, begging me to fuck you, and now that you got what you wanted, you aren’t happy?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it? It’s not my fault you expected more. Your virginity didn’t mean shit to me. I don’t do gentle. I don’t do slow. I fuck, and that’s what you got.Fucked.”

I don’t know how much longer I can stand here and let him cut me with his words. I struggle to reconcile this man with the stepbrother who always seemed so careful, in control, and noble in his distance.

“I thought—” I begin, but he cuts me off with a harsh laugh.

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