Page 82 of The Psychopaths

My pulse quickens. “You know about them? The men in suits?”

“They’re why he’s doing this.” Aries’s eyes flick briefly to his brother. “Ask him what happens when his usefulness ends. Ask him about the others they’ve used and discarded. They tried to get to me too, and I know if Arson dragged you here to stay it’s because they must be sniffing around you too.”

Arson pushes off the wall, but something flashes in his eyes as he moves toward me with fluid grace. “That’s enough family therapy for one day, I think.”

I’m transfixed by Aries’s gaze, by the concern there—not just for himself, but for me. For his brother, too, though he’d never admit it.

“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, not knowing if it’s true. “I’m going to fix this.”

“Lilian, don’t—” Aries starts, but I’ll never know what warning he meant to give because Arson wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me back against his chest and away from the glass while deactivating the intercom.

“I said that’s enough.”

“Let go of me!” I twist in his grip, nails digging into his forearm.

“Stop fighting.” His voice carries a warning, but I’m beyond caution now.

I struggle harder, watching Aries press against the glass, his face twisted with helpless rage. “Let me talk to him! You can’t just?—”

“I can do whatever I want.” Arson’s grip tightens painfully. “This is my house. My rules. My game.”

My elbow connects with his ribs—a lucky shot that makes him grunt but doesn’t loosen his hold. If anything, he pulls me tighter against him, one arm like a band across my chest, the other circling my waist.

“Arson, please.” I try another approach, letting my body go softer in his arms. “Just a few more minutes. Then we can go back upstairs. Just let me?—”

“No.” His lips brush my ear as he speaks. “You’ve had your reunion. Satisfied your curiosity. Now we’re done.”

Behind the glass, Aries slams his palm against the barrier, mouth moving in what must be shouting, though the speaker is now silent.

“Look at him!” I struggle again, desperate to return to the connection we’d established. “Look what you’re doing to him!”

“I see exactly what I’m doing.” There’s a dark satisfaction in Arson’s voice. “I see him watching something he wants but can’t have. Feeling helpless. Powerless. Just like I felt for ten years.”

Gradually, my struggles slow. Not from surrender, but from the realization that I’m accomplishing nothing except giving Aries a show of my helplessness.

Arson feels the change, his hold gentling slightly, though growing no less secure.

“Smart girl,” he murmurs against my hair. “Fighting just makes it worse for everyone.”

My breath comes in sharp gasps, heart pounding against my ribs—from exertion, from fear, from something else I don’t want to name. Arson’s body curved around mine feels both like a cage and a shelter.

“I hate you for this,” I whisper, though my body betrays me by leaning back into his warmth.

“No.” His voice holds dark certainty. “You hate yourself for wanting both of us. For being here in my arms while he watches. For the way your core tightens, and the desire that fills your veins every time I touch you.”

His words hit with uncomfortable accuracy. I close my eyes because I’m unable to face Aries while acknowledging such a truth.

“Let me go,” I say again, but the fight has drained from me.

“Never.” There’s no yield in his voice. It’s a promise and a threat, breathed against my skin like a kiss.

“What would you do for him?” Arson’s lips brush my ear, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. “How far would you go to set him free?”

The question hangs between us, heavy with implication. Behind the glass, Aries watches with helpless fury, unable to hear what’s being said.

“What do you mean?” My voice catches as Arson’s hand slides up to rest just beneath my breast.

“What if I were interested in a trade?” he murmurs, fingers tracing idle patterns over my ribs. “Your stepbrother’s freedom...foryou.”

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