Page 45 of The Psychopaths

“Suggested a convenient solution.” His voice drops lower, more dangerous. “Lock away the troublesome twin. The one who didn’t quite fit the mold. The one who made people... uncomfortable. Perfect opportunity to solve two problems at once.”

I shake my head, but the motion feels inadequate against the weight of his accusations.

“Every single day, they strapped me down,” he continues, rolling up his sleeve to reveal track marks. “Filled me with chemicals until I couldn’t remember my own name. Kept me in darkness for days. Starved me. Made me fight for the most basic of things. All because you couldn’t own up to your mistake.”

Each word is a punch to the gut.

I remember the weeks after—Patricia orchestrating everything, Father’s stern warnings to never mention the incident or my disturbed brother again. The family photos were altered or replaced. My guilt got buried under layers of privilegeand denial before Father dragged me to see him that one final time.

“They said you were dangerous,” I whisper. “That the accident revealed underlying psychopathic tendencies.”

“Did they mention how convenient that diagnosis was? How easily it explained away any inconvenient truths I might tell?” He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. “I’m your twin brother. You knew the truth.” He shakes his head. “Worst of all, you never visited. Never wrote. Never showed you gave a shit.”

“I thought?—”

“Thought what?” He cuts me off. “That I was crazy. Dangerous. Better locked away. I guess that would seem easier than admitting you were the one who should have been punished.”

I can’t make myself meet his gaze.He’s right. I sacrificed him to save myself. The golden child was preserved at the cost of the spare.

“Was it worth it, Brother?” Arson asks, his voice almost gentle. “Ten years of freedom bought with my imprisonment?”

The worst part is, until this moment, it had been. I’d buried the guilt so deep I almost forgot it existed. Almost convinced myself he deserved what happened to him.

“So this is your plan? To kidnap me and pump me full of chemicals?” I ask, dreading the answer.

His smile is a cruel thing. “Not quite. My plan is a little different. Instead of going straight for the jugular, I’m going to drag it out a bit. Show you exactly what ten years in hell feels like. Make you understand what it’s like to be isolated, make you watch your precious life crumble all around you while you stand watching. I’m going to be the psychopath they created because that’s all I’ll ever be.”

The threat hangs between us, and all I can think about is Lilian, who’s now caught in the crossfire of my decades-old cowardice.

“You want to destroy the family?” I force a shrug, ignoring the ache in my shoulders. “Go ahead. Burn it all down. I’ve been trying to distance myself from their corruption anyway.”

It’s partially true. I’ve spent the past year untangling myself from Father’s shadier business dealings, refusing to take the executive position he’d groomed me for. But the casual dismissal is calculated, an attempt to defuse Arson’s revenge by seeming indifferent to its target.

“Really?” Arson circles me slowly, predator assessing prey. “The golden child doesn’t care if I expose Richard’s embezzlement? Patricia’s connection to those mysterious charity fund disappearances?”

I maintain my facade of disinterest in him, though my pulse quickens. “Do what you want. They deserve whatever wrath you can bring down on them.”

“Hmm.” He stops in front of me, head tilted. “And sweet Lilian?”

The name slides from his tongue like poison dipped in honey. My chest tightens.

“What about her?”

“What if she gets...destroyed in the process?” His smile widens as he awaits my reaction. “She’s technically a Hayes now. You’ve already shown your attachment to her. She seems so fragile. Tell me…is that heart condition of hers real or just another family manipulation? I suppose it doesn’t matter. Anything could kill a weak heart.”

My carefully constructed indifference shatters. I lunge forward before I can stop myself, weakness forgotten in a surge of protective rage. “Don’t you fucking touch her.”

Arson sidesteps my attack easily, letting me stumble to my knees. His laughter echoes off the concrete walls.

“There it is,” he says, satisfaction dripping from every word. “The crack in your armor. Little Lilian—the only innocent one in the family. The one person you actually care about.”

“She has nothing to do with what happened,” I spit out, struggling to stand. “She wasn’t even part of the family then.”

“No, but she’s part of it now.” He squats down beside me, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And I saw how she looked at me, thinking I was you. All that longing and repressed desire. Were you even aware of how much she wants you? Or did you know and enjoy keeping her at arm’s length, torturing her with what she could never have?”

I swing at him, a wild punch born of desperation. He catches my fist easily.

“I’m going to take everything from you,” he says softly. “Starting with her. And the best part? She’ll thank me for it.”

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