Page 14 of The Psychopaths

I crumple to the floor, gasping and choking.Who the fuck is this guy?His form looms above me, a towering shadow.

“This is only the beginning,” he promises darkly. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to end your pathetic life.”

Turning, he walks out of the cell.

“Wait…” I gasp, my voice cracking.

He doesn’t acknowledge me, and the heavy metal door slams shut with an ominous clang, the locks clicking into place. I remain on the cold concrete, my throat aching, and my mind reeling. I gingerly touch my neck, wincing at the tenderness.

That’s going to leave one hell of a bruise. The raw strength in his grip, the speed of his movements—this guy is no amateur.Former military, maybe. Special Forces. Someone with training and a serious axe to grind. Doesn’t explain shit, though.

After a short time, I stand, ignoring the dizziness making me sway on my feet. I can’t just sit here and wait for that psycho to come back. I need to find a way out, or at least some way to defend myself. I scour the cell, examining every inch for a tool or an item that can be used as a weapon. The cot isn’t bolted to the floor. But I might be able to get one good hit with it before it collapses. The toilet is a stainless steel monstrosity, seamless and impossible to dismantle. Even the fucking shackles are reinforced to the point of absurdity.

Whoever set this up knew exactly what they were doing. They left nothing to chance, no potential weapons or tools. I’m well and truly trapped, at the mercy of a madman with an agenda I can’t begin to fathom.

Frustration and fear rage against one another, and I shove them both to the back of my mind. I can’t afford to lose my head, not now. I need to stay sharp, focused, and ready for any opportunity to escape.

I lie back on the cot and go back over the day. Lilian.Lilian. Her warm smile and bright blue eyes.Fuck.I never meant to hurt her. Never meant to fuck everything up. Even thinking of her and what happened between us makes me sick. She didn’t deserve that.

If she were here now, I’d apologize. No, that’s a lie. It was for her own good. Still is. Then again, if she were here, we’d have already escaped. She’s always been good at riddles, puzzles, finding the flaw in any plan, and the weakness in any opponent. Not that her mother would let her even breathe heavily toward an opponent with her heart condition.

Lilian.I shake out my shoulders, trying to slough off some of the dread churning in my gut. I close my eyes. Might as wellsleep. Who knows what fresh hell this psycho has in store for our next meeting.

Lilian

One Month Later

The sterling silver fork scrapes against the fine bone china as I push the brussels sprouts into a careful arrangement on my plate. The dining room echoes with the subtle symphony of proper Hayes family dining—measured sips of water, precise knife cuts, napkins refolded after each use. Mother sits opposite me, posture perfect despite beingtechnicallyrelaxed at home.

“The salmon is excellent, isn’t it, darling?” she asks, though it’s clear I’ve barely touched it. “I had Mrs. Winters prepare it especially since I know it’s your favorite.”

It’s not my favorite.It’s never been my favorite.

The simple fact is I’ve eaten it without complaint at family dinners for so long that the fiction has become fact in Mother’s carefully curated reality.

“It’s delicious.” My response is automatic while I take a deliberate bite to reinforce the lie. “Please thank Mrs. Winters for me.”

Mother smiles, satisfied with my performance of gratitude. “I still can’t believe my little girl is off to college tomorrow. Oakmount won’t know what hit them.”

The chandelier light catches in her diamond earrings as she tilts her head—a practiced gesture suggesting maternal pride while actually emphasizing expensive jewelry. Image is everything in the Hayes household, even during private family dinners.

“I’m looking forward to my classes,” I say, a generic response.

Eight years in this family have taught me the script.

“Of course you are. Though do remember the social aspects are equally important. The connections you make at Oakmount will serve you for a lifetime.”

The sound of the front door opening interrupts her familiar networking lecture. The footsteps in the hallway are confident and distinctly masculine. My heart beats a little faster before I can control the reaction.

“Richard? Is that you?” Mother calls, though we both know my stepfather never shows up to dinner this early. That’sifhe does at all.

“No, it’s me,” a voice responds, sending an immediate flush of heat through my body despite my best efforts. “Just stopping by to get details about the charity gala.”

Aries appears in the dining room doorway, and something inside me simultaneously tightens and unfurls.

He looks different somehow—a subtle shift I can’t immediately place. Outside of the fact that he chopped off his shoulder-length locks to a more professional short style.

His posture is more relaxed than his usual rigid control. He’s wearing a dark button-down I don’t recognize, the sleeves rolled to expose forearms marked with a new watch. Of course it’s notthe watch I gave him. The knife of his contempt digs a little deeper.

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