Page 41 of The Psychopaths

He moves to a dresser and pulls out clothes. I sink a little deeper into the shadow of the armoire, calculating the distance to the door.Too far.Any movement would expose me, and I know damn well I wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

He drops the towel, and I look away, my cheeks burning.

When I build up the courage to look again, he’s dressed in athletic shorts. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.

Raw beauty and power.

As if he can sense my presence, he tilts his head to the side. His eyes scan the room, passing over my hiding spot once, then twice...

I hold my breath, my stomach tightening with anxiety. He’s going to find me and then tell our parents. I can feel the danger rippling across my skin. Before that can happen, his attention is taken elsewhere. Grabbing his phone off the bed, he peers down at the screen, frowning as if he sees something that has upset him.

Before I can wrap my head around it, he’s walking out of the room and into another.

Where is he going?

The sound of a treadmill whirring to life follows a second later. I exhale slowly and count to thirty in my head before tiptoeing from my hiding place.

The bedroom exit separates into two corridors—one heading toward the sound of the treadmill and another going a little deeper into the warehouse.

The direction I’m going to go is obvious, and it’s not near him. Going in the opposite direction, I slowly proceed down the hallway.

It feels different—colder, utilitarian. Like there were no attempts made at making this space comfortable. Motion-activated lights flicker on as I advance, and I notice a security camera that swivels above, its power light red. Disabled or fake? Who knows. I guess I don’t understand enough of what is going on here for him to need cameras.

At the end of the hallway is a steel door. The kind used to keep things out. Or in. I have this sudden urge to run toward it but don’t. I need to get as much intel on this place as I can, which means moving slowly, with calculation.

On the right is another room. I pause in the doorway and investigate what’s inside.

Electronics—computers, servers, surveillance equipment. Numerous screens display what looks like footage of Aries’s dorm, the mansion, and different locations all over campus.

Holy fucking shit.It doesn’t make sense, though.

Who is he watching and why?

This is elaborate and thought-out.

By the time I reach the end of the hall, I’m trembling. There’s an electronic lock with a keypad to the right of the door. The door is reinforced—heavier and more secure.

It has a small window with plexiglass in it. I have to stand on my tippy-toes to see inside, and as I push against the door and peer inside, I’m greeted with darkness. I grab my phone out of my pocket and activate the flashlight at its lowest setting. I don’t believe all that’s on the other side of that door is darkness.

No, a door like that is to keep someone in.

One quick look, then I’ll leave.

I press my face to the window, shining the light into the blackness.

The beam catches on an object…scratch that. It’s definitely a person. They’re huddled in the corner of a makeshift cell. Sweat beads against my brow, and I stare intently at the person. Oh god…did Aries kidnap someone?

Male. Thin. Head down on drawn-up knees.

Then it happens. He lifts his face toward the unexpected light and squints. Despite the beard, the hollowed cheeks, and the dark circles under his eyes—I’d know him anywhere.

Aries.

I don’t understand. If Aries was in the shower and now on the treadmill, then how can the man inside this cell be him as well? The puzzle pieces in my mind start to come together.

The photo, brothers, twins. Oh god. I gave my first BJ to Aries’s twin.

The man I’ve been stalking isn’t Aries. This is Aries, the man in this cell.

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