Page 35 of The Psychopaths

His gaze widens as realization dawns on him. I’m the stranger who looks just like his best friend but isn’t.

“You’re not—” he starts, but then stops, like he’s thought better of it.

I release him, smoothing his shirt with Aries’s habitual gesture. “I’m not what?”

He swallows hard, self-preservation warring with loyalty. “Nothing. Just... call me, okay? If you need anything.”

In another life, this kind of friendship might have saved me. Might have made me something other than the monster I am today.

“Goodbye, Lee,” I say softly, letting him hear the finality in it.

I brush past him, taking the stairs two at a time. I hope he doesn’t think he can save me or him.By the time anyone acts on their suspicions, it’ll be too late. There is no saving Aries, just as there is no saving me.

Once outside, a strange emotion settles deep into the dark crevices of my chest. For a few months, I had what Aries always took for granted—a true friend. Someone who gave a shit if I lived or died. There’s no way to lie to myself. I’ll miss having Lee as a friend, miss having him as someone who gave a shit about me when no one else did.

After acknowledging the thoughts I shove them deep into the box of feelings I keep locked tight. Sentiment is weakness. Friends are a liability. The only thing that matters right now is revenge. It’s time to put my plan into motion, starting with sweet, innocent Lilian. Time to find out why she decided to pay me a visit last night.

Arson

Her dorm room is easy to locate. Third floor, east wing, second window from the end. I’ve memorized every detail of Lilian’s schedule over the past few weeks—when she attends classes, which dining hall she prefers, which path she takes back to her building in the evening.

Tonight, I watch her through binoculars from the parking lot as she moves around her room, silhouetted against the thin curtains. She’s completely unaware of my presence, of how vulnerable she truly is. The knowledge sends a thrill through me—not just of power, but something darker, more primal.

The campus is quiet at this hour, most students either asleep or holed up in the library cramming for midterms. A security guard passes by on his rounds, a flashlight beam sweeping lazily across the grounds. I sink deeper into the shadows, patience perfected through years of institutional survival. The guard continues on, oblivious to my presence—just like all the orderlies who thought their routines were unpredictable.

From my vantage point, I track her movements as she prepares for bed. Her silhouette pauses by the window, and for a heart-stopping second, I think she might see me. I holdmy breath, but then she merely draws the curtains tighter and continues her nighttime routine.

The light in her room finally clicks off at 11:23 p.m. I wait another thirty minutes, ensuring she’s fallen asleep before going inside.

The night air is crisp against my skin as I move across the quad, keeping to the shadows between streetlamps. Every sense is heightened—the sound of distant laughter from another dorm, the smell of fallen leaves, the weight of the lock picks in my pocket.

This hypervigilance is familiar, comforting even.

In the institution, awareness meant survival. Here, it means control.

Campus security is laughably easy to evade. The dormitory’s electronic locks take seconds to bypass with the equipment I’ve brought.

A swipe of a cloned access card, and I’m in. The lobby is deserted, the night attendant nodding off behind the desk. I use the service stairwell rather than the elevator—less risk of encountering students returning from late-night study sessions.

Within minutes, I reach her floor. The carpet muffles my footsteps as I count doors, memorizing the layout for future reference. I pause at the sound of a door opening farther down the hall, pressing myself against the wall until whoever it is returns to their room.Amateur.If they knew what lurked in their hallway, they wouldn’t be so casual about midnight snack runs.

Lilian’s door requires a more delicate touch—can’t leave evidence of forced entry. The lock pick slides in smoothly, tumblers clicking into place with practiced precision. It’s a skill learned during my third year in the institution, when I needed access to the medication storage. The memory brings a bittertaste to my mouth, which I swallow down as I ease the door open.

The scent of vanilla and clean laundry fills my nose when I step inside. My eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, scanning the space until they land on her bed. The dim glow from her alarm clock casts blue shadows across her sleeping form, highlighting the curve of her hip and the delicate arch of her neck.

She’s asleep, curled on her side, one arm flung above her head in unconscious vulnerability. The thin sheet covering her has slipped down, revealing smooth legs and the curve of her hip. Her face is softer in sleep, younger somehow, the tension she carries when awake completely absent. Without the sharp intelligence in her eyes, the calculating observation, she looks almost innocent.

Almost.

Her breathing fills the small room—steady, soft, completely unaware of the predator standing at the foot of her bed. I could do whatever I want to her right now. Take anything. The power of that knowledge is intoxicating.

I shouldn’t care about these details. Should focus on the mission, on finding what she took from Aries’s room. Instead I’m fixated on the sight of her—her chest rising and falling with each breath, lips gently parted, hair splayed across the pillow like liquid gold.

As she shifts in her sleep, the sheet slides lower, revealing the edge of white cotton panties against her skin. My body responds immediately, hardening painfully against the confines of my jeans.I want to touch her.Want to slide my hand up that exposed thigh until I reach the edge of her panties. Want to feel her heat against my palm.

Stop. Focus.

The institution taught me control above all else. During my time there, I learned to compartmentalize desires and channelthem into something more useful. That discipline reasserts itself now, cooling the heat in my blood, allowing me to redirect my focus to the task at hand.

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