Page 1 of The Psychopaths

Aries

Four Years Ago

Aknock on the door startles me from my textbooks—three hesitant taps barely audible over the music playing in my room at the Mill House. No one visits me here unannounced, and none of my friends would fucking knock.

This is someone else.I should be a little more hesitant, but if they know where to find me, chances are they know who I am. Opening the door, I freeze with my hand on the brass knob. Lilian, my stepsister, stands in the hallway, hands clasped nervously, looking simultaneously out of place and achingly familiar.

At sixteen, she hovers in that weird space between child and woman—still holding traces of teenage awkwardness but showing glimpses of the beauty she’ll become.

“Lilian?” Her name spills out harsher than intended, surprise sharpening my tone. I shove my shoulder-length hair out of my face to keep my eyes on her deep blue ones. “What are you doing here?”

She flinches but squares her shoulders. “I needed to see you.”

I check the empty hallway, suddenly worried I missed something. “Are Father and Patricia with you? Who let you in?”

“No one is with me.” A flash of defiance crosses her features. “I drove myself. Took the Audi. And I let myself in. It’s not like you guys lock your door. Also, there’s a naked girl passed out in the living room.”

The admission stuns me. Not the naked chick obviously...that’s common around here. Lilian—sheltered, protected, allegedly-fragile Lilian—drove herself to campus despite her mom’s objections to her even getting a license.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, even as I step aside to let her in.

The Hayes name means never leaving family standing in hallways, regardless of circumstances. Not with the kinds of secrets that leak through walls.

She enters hesitantly, taking in my room with curious eyes. I see it through her perspective—the antique furniture, stacked textbooks, evidence of a life deliberately separate from our home’s opulence. Lilian only knows one side of me, the side I show with our parents. She doesn’t know about the late nights, the parties, the sex. The brute I’ve learned to play around campus.

“It’s nice,” she offers, though we both know it’s not. “More...youthan your room at home.”

I close the door, maintaining careful distance. She’s dressed with obvious care—a blue sundress I’ve never seen her wear before. Something is different—more sophisticated?—about her golden curls. Subtle makeup highlights her blue eyes, which dart nervously around the room, avoiding direct contact with mine.

“Does your mother know where you are?” I don’t know why I even ask because I already know the answer.

She shakes her head, fingers fidgeting with the strap of her small purse. “I told her I was studying at the library. She thinks Marcus is driving me.”

She lied to her mother. Lilian Hayes, the perfect daughter, never lies. Never rebels. Never secretly drives to visit her stepbrother at college without permission. Breaking the rules is a foreign concept. To be fair, I’ve been keeping my distance from her the past year or so as I prepared for college.

“You should call her,” I say, reaching for a lifeline in the face of my growing unease. “Tell her there’s been a change of plans. I can drive you home.”

“Not yet,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “I don’t want to leave…not when I just got here. Can’t we, I don’t know, talk? It’s been weeks since you came home.”

I don’t really feel like explaining it to her, and I don’t owe her an explanation, but part of me wants to tell her that it has nothing to do with her. That being in that house, surrounded by them, by my father, makes my skin crawl. And it would be a lie...well, it does make my skin crawl, but I’ve also been avoiding her and the way I can’t stop looking at her. And how disgusted with myself it makes me feel.

There’s something about Lilian’s body language, the careful way she speaks, with an excited puppy eagerness that makes red flags wave in my head. If she isn’t here with our parents, thenwhyis she here?

I retreat to my desk, putting physical space between us. “What did you want to talk about that required a secret drive to the Mill House?”

She draws in a deep breath, gathering courage for whatever she came to say.Fuck.Don’t do this.This isn’t going to be good. I can feel it.

“I miss you,” she says, the simple statement hanging in the air between us. “I’m lonely. You hardly come home anymore, and when you do, you’re so...distant.”

I busy myself arranging papers on my desk, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry, Lilian, but I’m an adult. Adults are busy. I’m also a business major, remember? Father’s expectations.”

“It’s more than that.” She moves deeper into the room, perching herself on the edge of the bed, trying to look casual even though every part of her is tense. “Did I do something wrong? We used to talk, but now you can barely look at me.”

Barely look at you?I want to tell her the problem isn’t looking at her, it’s stopping myself from doing so, because somewhere between childhood and now, the lines that should have remained crystal clear are blurred. I’m old enough to know better, which is why I’ve maintained a careful—oh-so careful—distance lately.

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” I tell her, trying to soothe her worries.

The smile she gives me makes my heart clench. “I brought you something. I know it’s early since your birthday isn’t until next week, but I figured you probably wouldn’t come home, and I wanted to hand deliver it.” She reaches into her purse and produces a small wrapped package.

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