Page 67 of The Psychopaths

Dammit. I don’t want to get into this car, but my other option is to run, and there’s two of them and one of me. Who knows if they have weapons? I don’t see any, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have them.

Fear of the unknown festers in my chest, and against my better judgment, I slide into the back seat. The door closes behind me, and the sound is deafening. Both men climb backinto the vehicle via the opposite side, and I try not to think about whether I signed my own death certificate.

“Water?” the first man—he hasn’t given me his name—offers, holding out a bottle with a pristine label. “Or perhaps something stronger? You seem a bit tense.”

Why does he seem so...familiar? I know I’ve never met him, yet...

“I’m fine.” I sit perfectly straight, channeling Mother’s social armor.

Cool. Controlled.It’s just another meeting. Another preparation for a charity event.

The SUV starts to move, pulling smoothly away from campus. Both men peer at me, the one in the driver’s seat watching me in the rearview mirror while the other openly gawks from the passenger seat. Their postures are relaxed but alert. Like well-trained predators at rest.

“You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, Miss Hayes.” The second man adjusts his platinum cuff links. “It’s rather unexpected, really. We had anticipated certain...complicationsin our arrangement, but you weren’t one of them.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” The man in the driver’s seat flashes me a professionally empty smile in the mirror. “That wasn’t you at the warehouse? Were you gathering evidence? Or what about that rather intimate encounter in the botany garden last week?”

My chest tightens uncomfortably. They’ve been watching me.Us.

“There’s no need to worry, at least not yet. Let’s just say we have certain investments we must protect,” the guy in the passenger seat continues. “Arrangements which required considerable financial backing.”

“If you want us to be honest, your involvement has created...uncertainty.”

The threat slides beneath their corporate pleasantries like a silk-wrapped knife.

“Okay, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” I keep my voice steady. “Or who you are.”

“We’re friends,” the man in the driver’s seat says. “Friends who provided certain resources to facilitate certain goals. Friends who prefer their investments remain...stable.”

The SUV turns, and I realize we’re on the industrial district access road.

Is this where it all ends? Are they going to kill me and deposit my body in front of the warehouse to prove a point?

“We aren’t friends. I don’t know you. I don’t know what I have to do with any of this.” I gesture to the space around me.

“Insurance.” The man in the passenger seat turns, and his gaze is cold despite his pleasant tone. “You’re a reminder that actions have consequences beyond personal vendettas and family drama.”

“Are you threatening me?”

They both laugh, the sound perfectly orchestrated.

“Threats are crude, Miss Hayes. We’re simply ensuring all parties understand the seriousness of the goal, and the part they play in it.”

“And if I decide not to be involved?”

“That option expired the moment you offered our associate your assistance in demolishing the Hayes empire.” The second man checks his watch. “Though we must admit, your research has proved...intriguing.”

They know about Mother’s files. About what I found.

“What do you want from me?” I ask again, dropping the pretense.

The leather seat creaks as I shift, hyperaware of every movement I make in the confined space. These men aren’t just wealthy—they’re dangerous in a way that makes Arson’sviolence seem straightforward. At least he’s honest about his intentions to destroy.

“Your heart condition,” the first man remarks casually, “it’s not nearly as debilitating as your medical records suggest, is it?”

I’m not surprised that they know of my heart condition. It’s the most basic thing, something everyone knows about me. That’s not what has me curious. It’s the information they aren’t sharing that interests me the most.

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