Page 120 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

Since Emma had come into my life, my brother’s predilection for violence and torture had spiralled out of control. I knew he was going to kill that girl he was on a date with the night I tracked him down. I also knew he’d killed other innocent people, just to sate his cravings.

But it wouldn’t happen to Emma.

I’d die to protect her.

“You know, you really need to look closer at your staff,” Arran said, stalling for time. “It was way too easy to get into your house today. And the rose you gave her, that she left in her room? Nice touch. I kind of felt bad about destroying that.”

I couldn’t help it; anger surged through me as I flew across the clearing and smacked him in the face with my gun. His head whipped to the side, and blood trickled from his nose as he laughed and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He was still holding his gun, but he didn’t point it at me or try to hit me back.

“Good shot,” he joked, before spitting out blood onto the floor. “I guess I deserved that.”

Then he stood up and pointed towards a tree behind him.

“Just so you know, I have a video set up, recording everything that’s gonna happen here tonight. It’s currently live streaming on the dark web.” The smile he gave me then, thinking he had the upperhand, made me rear back and punch him a second time.

He laughed, then shook his head and grunted as more blood flew from his mouth and poured down his face.

“The first one was understandable,” he managed to splutter, “But the second was a fucking liberty.” He straightened up to face me, grinning with his blood-stained teeth, making him look like a lunatic, as he sneered, “You won’t get to do that a third time.”

“You’re jealous,” I seethed. “Jealous that I’m building a life, creating a future for myself.”

He stepped closer towards me and his fake smile disappeared instantly.

“A future that doesn’t include me.” He took a few deep breaths, staring right into my eyes, before adding, “She doesn’t get to have the happy ending. I do.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I leered at him, conscious of the fact that Emma was still tied up, scared out of her mind on the forest floor. Whatever he wanted her to see, wasn’t going to happen.

“I want to perform my final piece... tonight... with you.” He nodded to where Emma sat, her eyes filled with tears, her breaths laboured from trying to free herself as she watched us. “She doesn’t even factor as a footnote in our story. That’s why I wanted her gone. But if she has to stay and watch, then so be it. She can be our eyewitness for how truly tragic and beautiful the performance is.”

“You’re fucking insane,” I jeered.

“And why is that?” He tilted his head, that demonic grin back on his bloody face.

I don’t know how it happened.

Maybe I got distracted by Emma, writhing on the floor, trying to loosen her ankle ties as she grunted from the effort.

Or perhaps it was the red light from the video, blinking at me from over his shoulder that caught my attention for a split second, reminding me that countless perverts were watching us right now.

Whatever it was, it gave him a golden opportunity to kick out and knock the pistol right out of my hand.

I lunged forward, making a grab for it from the floor, but he kicked it into the undergrowth and then turned his gun on me.

We were so fucking screwed.

CHAPTER

FORTY-NINE

EMMA

It was all going so fucking wrong.

Alex’s gun had been knocked out of his hand, and now Arran had total control. His gun was pointed right at Alex as they stared each other down. I felt sick.

I was still forcing my legs to move, bending my knees, trying anything I could to loosen the tape around my ankles. My wrists were cut and bleeding from pulling and yanking on the cable tie. But nothing was working. Hope was fading pretty fucking fast.

“Sit,” Arran barked, and Alex ignored him. But Arran stepped closer to him, pressing his gun against Alex’s forehead as he repeated more forcefully, “Sit.”