Page 121 of The Psychopaths

Credentials I’m holding in my trembling hand.

I simply stand there for a moment, adrenaline surging through my system. I’ve just locked two dangerous men in a confined space together—men with years of hatred between them, men capable of extreme violence, men who share the same face but fundamentally different souls.

Should I be afraid of the consequences?Absolutely. But the surge of power, of agency, overwhelms any fear. For the firsttime since this began, I’m the one making decisions. I’m the one setting the terms.

Through the observation window, I watch as realization dawns on Arson’s face. He turns toward the door, expression shifting from focused concentration to confusion, then to dawning fury as he sees me standing there, key card held visibly in my hand.

I should feel triumphant. Instead, I feel something more complex—power mixed with responsibility, determination tangled with uncertainty. I’ve seized control, but now what do I do with it?

The answer comes as I watch the twins eye each other in their shared cage—one fully restrained, one armed but trapped. It’s time they deal with the consequences of their actions. Time they face each other without using me as a weapon or a shield.

I hold up the key card, making sure Arson can see it clearly through the glass.

My move.

I press the intercom button, wanting them to hear my words clearly. “For once,” I say, voice steadier than I feel, “you two are going to be on equal footing.”

Arson strides to the window, murder in his eyes. His palm slams against the glass with enough force that I flinch despite the barrier between us.

“Open this door,” he demands, voice deadly quiet. “Now.”

“No.” The single word feels revolutionary on my tongue. After weeks of manipulation, captivity, and having decisions made for me, the power of refusal is intoxicating.

“Lilian,” he says, tone shifting to something more reasonable, more calculating. “You don’t understand what you’re doing. He’s dangerous. We’re dangerous together.”

“I understand perfectly.” I hold his gaze through the glass. “That’s the point.”

Behind him, Aries has managed to push himself to a sitting position despite his restraints. Unlike Arson’s fury, his expression holds something like reluctant respect, perhaps even amusement.

“Well played,” he calls past his brother. “Though I’m not sure you’ve thought through to the endgame here.”

“For once, I agree with him,” Arson says, never taking his eyes off me. “What exactly do you think is going to happen next? We kill each other, and you watch?”

What do I think is going to happen? What do I want to come of this?The question gives me pause.Justice? Revenge? Resolution?The answer crystallizes with surprising clarity.

“Resolution. You’re forced to face each other by being in this cell together. You can’t use me or anyone else as a weapon.”

Arson’s laugh is disbelieving. “So what—psychological therapy? Lock the twins together until they work through their issues?”

“Think of it as one of those get-along T-shirts.” I step back from the glass, the key card still prominently displayed. “For longer than I care to admit, I let you both manipulate me, use me, and hurt me in different ways. Now you get to deal with each other directly.”

“And if we refuse?” Aries asks, shifting slightly to test his new restraints.

“Hope you like looking at the same four walls.” I shrug, projecting a confidence I don’t entirely feel. “I have food, shelter, and all the security controls. I’ve also got a lot of patience.”

Arson’s expression darkens further, if that’s even possible, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that dangerous register I’ve come to recognize as true rage rather than tactical intimidation. “When I get out of here—and I will get out—you’re going to regret this little game you’re playing.”

“Maybe.” I match his stare. “Or maybe not. Guess we will find out then, but right now, you’re not in any position to be making threats. I hold all the power and the only way either of you is getting out is if you fix your shit.”

The role reversal isn’t lost on either of them—the captive becoming captor, the manipulated becoming manipulator. Arson’s hands are clenched into fists that he rests against the glass, while Aries’s smile grows more pronounced behind him.

“She’s got you there, Brother,” Aries retorts. “Seems your little pet has sharper teeth than you realized.”

Arson whirls to face him, momentarily distracted by his twin’s taunt. The movement is all aggression and tightly controlled violence, ready to explode at any second.

“Shut up,” he snarls. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Aries laughs. “I’m not the one who threw her in here or pushed her into taking control of the situation.”

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