Page 62 of The Psychopaths

Even through the reinforced glass, I feel the rage radiating off him. His hair’s still wet from the shower, his features—a mirror image of my own—are masked in fury.

“Someone’s feeling brave tonight.” His voice is deceptively calm. “Or stupid. Can’t really tell the difference right now.”

“Neither, really. More curious to hear about your date.” I bare my teeth in what might be a smile. “How is our sweetstepsister? Still pretending she doesn’t know you’re just a substitute for what she really wants?”

Just like that, he gives himself away. The lock mechanism whirs, and the door opens.

Here we go.Time to see just how far I can push him before he snaps.

He takes his time entering the cell, and memories of Lilian flood my mind.

At sixteen, trying so hard to catch my attention. The night she showed up at The Mill to give me that watch, and then our kiss, the night of her eighteenth birthday.

All that perfectly placed protection was for nothing. As much as I tell myself I’m not jealous, that I never could be jealous, I am. Arson, whether he knows it or not, is giving her everything I denied her—attention, desire, darkness. She’ll accept it, crave it because I made her hungry for any scrap of affection. Her fall into darkness is my fault, and mine alone.

“You’re thinking about her.” Arson leans against the doorframe, studying me with clinical interest. “I can tell, because you get this little crease between your eyes—right there.” He taps his own forehead. “One of the many tells I’ve had to learn to hide while playing you.”

“How is she?” I keep my voice casual, though my fists remain clenched at my sides. Don’t want to give too much away. “Still trembling when you touch her?”

He smiles, but it isn’t genuine. “Actually, she’s quite responsive. Amazing what happens when you don’t treat a woman like she’s made of glass.”

The different ways that could be interpreted smashes through my careful facade. “I swear to God. If you’ve hurt her?—”

“Hurt her?” He laughs, the sound eerily similar to mine but darker. “Oh, Aries. You have no idea. She begs to be hurt. Quite enthusiastically, I might add.”

Lies. He’s baiting me.

Yet, even as I tell myself that, the image still burns—Lilian in his hands, not knowing she’s being used as a weapon against me. Tears in her eyes, bruises on her skin, her fragile body punished for my wrongdoings.

“She’s smarter than she looks.” I remind him. “And capable of more than you think. She knows you’re a monster, could probably see it miles away.”

“Yes.” Arrogance oozes from his pores. “What do you think it is about me that excites her so much? She’s not the innocent girl you tried to preserve, Brother. There’s darkness in her that begs to be unleashed. It’s truly unfortunate that you were too much of a coward to see it or explore it. But your loss is my gain.”

I wasn’t. I was just…“That’s not fucking true. I stayed away to protect her!”

“From what? The family’s corruption?” He pushes off the doorframe, his movements slow, calculating. “While you were playing the noble protector, they were planning to commit her. Did you know that? That they were going to use her heart condition as an excuse to lock her away, just like they did me.”

No. He’s lying. They wouldn’t.

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Or do you just not want to see the truth that’s right in front of you?”

“Her mother would never do such a thing.” Even as I say the words, I know it’s a lie. There’s not much Patricia wouldn’t do.

“Why do you think she’s so eager to help me burn it all down?” His eyes glitter with malice. “She’s tired of being controlled, of being treated like a porcelain doll. She wants someone who sees her strength, her potential for destruction.”

Little does he know I’ve seen Lilian all along, even when I didn’t want to see her, even when I had to pretend she didn’t exist.

“And you think that person is you?” I step closer, ignoring how he towers over my weakened frame. “The troubled twin? The family embarrassment? That you’re the one that will see her strength?”

His expression shifts, just slightly.A crack in the perfect mask.Keep pushing. Make him angry enough to forget his careful control.

“Tell me”—I bare my teeth in a smile—“does she call you by my name when you touch her? Does she envision my face every time she looks at you? How does it feel to be second best?”

“You want to talk about names?” Arson’s voice drops to a dangerous tone. “Let’s talk about what they called me in that prison you sent me to. Patient 4721. The troubled twin. The defective one.”

“I didn’t send you anywhere,” I snap, but guilt makes my voice waver. “I was a kid?—”

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