Page 43 of The Psychopaths

I run.

Aries

The cell door comes crashing open, filling the darkness with light. I pop one eye open and regret it immediately. Too bright. Before I can fully wake up, I’m being hauled out of bed by my shirt and then slammed against the nearest wall. Air seeps from my lungs upon impact.

After months of this, you’d think I would be used to the pain, but I’m not.

“What did you tell her?” My own face hovers inches from mine, twin to twin, mirror to mirror, except for the rage distorting his features. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

What is he talking about?

I blink, trying to orient myself. Arson rarely enters my cell, preferring to taunt me from the doorway. Maintaining physical distance as if proximity might reveal the differences between us. “What are you talking about?” I manage, my voice rough from disuse.

Days blend in this windowless cell; my only measure of time is his irregular visits. Clearly, my response isn’t good enough, as his grip on me tightens. The fabric of the T-shirt cuts into my throat as he twists it in his fist.

“Don’t play stupid with me. Lilian. She was here.”

Oh god. Panic presses in from all sides of my brain. Lilian? Here? Impossible. There is no way she found this place, no way…then it hits me. The dream I had. What if it wasn’t a dream? What if she was really here?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, fighting to keep my expression neutral despite my fear. “No one’s been here except you.”

Arson studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowed. Without warning, he releases me and takes a step back. I slide down the wall, my legs too weak to support me after days of confinement and minimal food.

“Even after all these years, you aren’t any better at lying than when we were kids.” He pulls out a phone from his back pocket, tapping the screen before turning it toward me. “Security footage. I just reviewed it.”

The grainy black-and-white video shows a small figure at the viewing window. Lilian’s unmistakable profile is illuminated by the faint glow of her phone. The time stamp shows it was less than an hour ago. The angle is strange, capturing her from above and behind.

Arson squats down to my level, balanced on the balls of his feet. “It’s a shame I missed her by minutes. She’s good. Sneaky little thing.”

It takes a moment for my sluggish brain to piece it all together. Lilian was here. She knows I’m being held captive, she knows about Arson, and that…fuck me. That puts her in danger. Grave danger.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know how she figured you out. Maybe you aren’t as good at playing me as you think.”

Arson zooms in on the footage, showing Lilian’s hand pressed against the glass, mine matching it from inside. “She recognized you.” His finger slides across the screen, advancing the video. “And this? This is communication.”

The footage shows us clearly mouthing words to each other, though the angle makes it impossible to read our lips.

“What did you tell her?” Arson’s voice lowers, becoming almost conversational, the calm before violence.

“I didn’t tell her anything.” The lie is bitter on my tongue.

If I reveal what Lilian means to me, how much I care for her, and what I’m willing to sacrifice for her, Arson will use her as a weapon against me. I can’t let that happen. I already fucked up once when he asked me if she was a virgin, and I reacted emotionally.

“Liar,” he growls, and his fist connects with my jaw so quickly I don’t have the time to defend myself or duck. My head snaps sideways, the taste of copper flooding my mouth. It’s not the first time he’s hit me since my captivity began, but there’s a new ferocity behind this punch.

“Try again,” he orders, shaking out his hand. “This time, don’t lie.”

I spit blood onto the concrete. “To run. To get away from you.”

“And did you tell her who I am?” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him.

“Yes.”

His grip tightens painfully. “Did you tell her everything?”

“No,” I admit. “Just your name and that you’re my brother.”

“What else?”

---