Page 70 of The Psychopaths

Animal rage mixed with something else—something resembling fear, but that can’t possibly be it, since that would mean Lilian is something important to me, more than a pawn.

The security door beeps as I slam through it. Sunlight blinds me momentarily as I burst outside, but I don’t need to see where I’m going. I can feel her presence and smell her expensive perfume mixed with the heady scent of adrenaline.

My hands find her before my vision clears.

“What did they say to you?” I wrap my hands around her arms, yanking her against me. “Tell me. Every fucking word. Now.”

She gasps—not from fear but surprise at my roughness.

I’m usually more controlled with her, more seductive. She’s never seen me like this, so raw, balancing on the edge of right and wrong.

“Arson—”

She says my name.My. Fucking. Name.That’s all it takes to make me unravel from the inside out.

“Inside,” I demand, dragging her through the door with me. I don’t care if I bruise her porcelain skin. She has worse things to worry about than a couple of bruises. “Before they come back. Before they?—”

“Let go!” she grumbles, struggling in my grasp.

As if I would let her go.

We crash against the wall just inside the entrance, and I take note of her tiny gasp when she slams into it. Releasing her, I use my body to cage her in while I kick the door shut with my foot. Above, the security lights flicker on, casting harsh shadows across her face.

Anger—at myself—consumes me. Does she not realize the danger she’s put herself in? The danger I put her in by allowing her to taunt me, to tempt me with her body and her alluring eyes. I grab her by the arms and shake her. I need to make her see how dangerous this is, how dangerous I am.

“What. Did. They. Say?” Each word is punctuated by my fingers digging a little deeper into her flesh.

“Stop! You’re hurting me.” Her voice is strong even as she flinches from the pain. Gone is the fragile girl she pretended to be before.

“Good. Maybe you’ll be able to look at the bruises and remember why you shouldn’t be here. Now answer thequestion!” I shake her once, trying to get common sense to filter into her brain. “What did those men tell you?” Her head whips back and forth, strands of blond hair falling into her face, and even now, with the reminder of danger and the awareness that she’s nothing more than a pawn to me, I’m tempted to tuck them behind her ear. Tempted to wrap my arms around her and tell her I won’t let anything happen to her, but I can’t. Now that they know about her, she’s a pawn, a weapon they can use against me.

Her blue eyes narrow with suspicion. “Wait, are you afraid of them?”

The observation hits far too close to the truth. I drag her closer, bringing us face-to-face.

“Do you think because I want tofuckyou that you mean something to me, that you suddenly know everything there is to know about me?” I growl into her face. “This has nothing to do with fear. I’m not afraid of anything.” The lie tastes bitter. “Butyoushould be. Of me. Of them. You don’t know what any of us are capable of.”

“Then tell me.” Our gazes collide, and I see fear in her eyes, but that’s not the biggest emotion that stands out. It’s anger. Searing rage. “Tell me why the great Arson Hayes is coming apart at the seams because of one car ride.”

Does she really think this is still our game of seduction and power? Doesn’t she understand the danger she’s in?

“I think it’s time you learn exactly what kind of hell you’ve walked into.” I turn, and with one hand wrapped around her bicep, I drag her behind me while continuing deeper into the warehouse.

“I’m not going anywhere until you explain?—”

“You’ll go where I put you,” I snarl, mask completely shattered. “Because right now, I’m the only thing standing between you, them, and a very untimely fucking death.” The longer I think about them touching her, about them using heragainst me, the angrier I become. “Did they touch you?” I demand, shoving her around another corner. “Threaten you? Offer you anything?”

“Stop manhandling me!” Digging her feet into the ground, she makes a feeble attempt to stop me, but her comfort is far from my biggest concern right now.

“Answer me!” I yell, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Did they say anything about deadlines? About complications?”

She twists in my grip, surprisingly strong for someone supposedly fragile. “They said you’re off schedule. That I’m interfering with their investment?—”

“Fuck!” I roar and slam my palm against the wall beside her head, making her jump. Pain zings up into my shoulder, but it feels good, keeps me present. “Did they mention Aries? The Hayes family? Any specific dates?”

“I’d tell you if you’d stop throwing me around like a rag doll!”Her outburst catches me off guard. Most people cower when I’m like this—all rage and barely contained violence. Not Lilian. She stands straighter, eyes flashing with anger rather than fear. When I don’t respond, she chooses to fight back. “You want answers?” She shoves against my chest, hard enough to make me step back. “Try asking like a normal human.”

The push ignites something primitive in my blood. Nobody touches me without permission. Nobody pushes back. Not since the institution.

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