Page 109 of The Psychopaths

“I know what you thought. That I kept my distance because I cared too much, right? That I didn’t fuck you earlier because I wanted toprotectyou?” He shakes his head, and his eyes, the same eyes I’ve dreamed about, pierce mine with a blistering cold that I feel in my bones. “I kept my distance because you were another obligation. My father’s new wife’s damaged daughter. Another Hayes family burden. And I didn’t want to be responsible for breaking you.”

Arson steps closer to the glass, tension radiating off him, and I know he wants to step in. He wants to stick up for me, but this is my confrontation, my illusions to lose.

“Then why?” I press harder, desperate for some explanation that might hurt less than this brutal dismissal. “Why did you warn me about him?” I gesture toward Arson. “Why tell me he was dangerous if you didn’t care about me?”

“Because he is dangerous.” Aries’s eyes shift to his brother, and some unreadable emotion flickers there. “This is nothing more than a game, so anything that hurts him is worth doing. Even playing protector to you for a moment.

Making him believe that you might put a wrench in his plans. It’s manipulation.”

My fingers curl against the glass, and I wish we were face-to-face. I wish I could hurt him the way he’s hurting me right now. “So that’s all I was? A weapon in your fight with each other?”

“I don’t understand. What else could you have been to me?” Aries asks, genuine confusion in his voice. “Look at yourself, Lilian. The fragile heart patient. The charity case. The girl who spreads her legs for twins in the span of an hour.”

I try not to let it bother me, but it hurts so much more than I expected.

“Stop. I know you don’t mean it.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault if you saw this for more than what it really was.”

“It was real. It is real.” I sniffle.

“You’re right. It is real. We fucked. What isn’t real is your expectation. I don’t want you, and I never have.”He’s lying.He has to be. I remember all the times I caught him watching me, the gentleness in his eyes, the consideration and care. “Though I will say, you were a decent fuck. Tight. Responsive. Better than I expected, considering.”

Shame finally finds me, hot and caustic, burning through the strange empowerment I felt upon waking. I step back from the glass and wrap my arms around my middle as if I can physically hold myself together that way. It feels like I’m being ripped apart at the seams.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Aries continues, watching my reaction with clinical interest. “And for warming up for my eventual escape. I’ll be sure to remember you fondly once I’m free.”

The words are a dismissal, casual and complete. Years of fantasy crumble in seconds—the noble stepbrother replaced by this cold, calculating stranger who sees me as nothing more than a convenient tool.

All that’s left to do is walk away. I turn, unable to look at him anymore, unable to bear the sight of a face I loved twisted with such casual cruelty. My legs feel unsteady, the world tilting on its axis as everything I thought I knew rearranges itself into painful new configurations.

Arson’s hand catches my elbow, steadying me, but I flinch away from his touch.

Too much. All of it, too much.

“Are you satisfied now?” he asks quietly. “Do you believe me or do you need him to continue?”

I shake my head, unable to form words through the tightness in my throat and burning behind my eyes. Every memory of Aries—every moment I treasured, every glance I interpreted as a hidden feeling—was now poisoned by the reality of his indifference. He never really cared. Never really wanted me.

“I’ve seen enough,” I manage, voice breaking despite my effort to control it. “I want to go back upstairs.”

Arson nods once, sharp and precise, but makes no move to touch me again. The careful distance he maintains feels like both kindness and punishment.

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me. “Go ahead. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Something in his tone—a dangerous undercurrent I’ve come to recognize—makes me hesitate. I glance back to see him step closer to the observation window, his posture shifting from the controlled presence beside me to something more predatory.

“Look at her,” Arson says to Aries, voice pitched to carry through the intercom. “Really look at what you’ve done.”

Aries rolls his eyes, chains clinking as he shifts on the cot. “Spare me the moral outrage. We both know you’re not any more innocent than me.”

“That’s just it. I never pretended to be.” Arson’s hand presses flat against the glass, a mirror image of how I stood moments ago. “And I never left her to die on a concrete floor.”

“She’s still breathing, isn’t she?” Aries shrugs. “Besides, you should thank me. I broke her in for you. Made it easier to play your little savior act.”

I should leave. Should walk away from this toxic exchange, from the way they continue to use me as a weapon against each other even now. But my feet remain rooted to the spot, watching the identical faces contort with twin hatreds.

“Broke her in for me?” Arson shakes his head in what looks like disappointment. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

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