Page 31 of The Psychopaths

No names. No specifics.This isn’t a news story, it’s a cover-up. Made to be deliberately vague so it can be quickly buried.

There’s another clipping, this one from the financial section:

HAYES PHARMACEUTICALS ACQUIRES NORTHSTAR FACILITIES.

The acquisition date is just weeks after the boathouse incident.

At the bottom of the box is a photograph—two identical boys, perhaps seven years old, standing with an older man I recognize as Aries’s father. Both boys are wearing identical swim trunks and smiles. It would appear you couldn’t tell them apart if you tried, but there’s a subtle difference in their posture.

One stands straight and attentive, while the other leans slightly, as if resisting the formal pose.Maybe it’s a cousin I never met.

That would be possible, but Aries’s dad doesn’t have any siblings, so how can these two look so alike? Some part of me wants to hold on to these thoughts, these conclusions, to just keep lying to myself because it’s simpler than facing the truth.

There’s a thunderous crash, the sound coming from downstairs. It jolts me back to the present. Voices approach—one of them raising in anger. I recognize it immediately, though it’s harsher than Aries usually sounds.

Shit.

I panic, switching off the light and retreating to the closet, pulling the door nearly closed but leaving a crack to see through. The room door bangs open seconds later, and a figure storms in, rage in every movement. I’ve seen Aries angry, and I know from personal experience how monstrous he can be, but there’s a menace to this prowling.

He’s on the phone, stalking back and forth with agitated energy.

“I already told you, I’m not your errand boy,” he snarls. “I don’t work for you—this arrangement was supposed to be mutually beneficial.”

He pauses, listening to whoever is on the other end. Whatever they’re saying has his anger rising tenfold, his voice becoming murderous.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I’m executing this my way. If you have a problem with my methods, perhaps we should reconsider our agreement.”

Another pause, longer this time. He yanks open the desk drawer I’d searched earlier, rifling through it with increasing frustration.

“It’s not here,” he growls into the phone. “I’ll look in his other hiding places—if I find it, I’ll tell you. But I want to be clear: this changes the timeline. I’ll need more time if you’re going to have me searching the countryside for shit.”

Whatever the response is, it isn’t one he wants to hear, as he ends the call with a vicious jab to the screen and hurls the phone onto the bed.

“Fuck!” he shouts, slamming the drawer shut with such force that the entire desk shakes.

I press myself further into the closet, willing my breathing to remain silent, my heart to stop its frantic pounding. He’s looking for something—something important enough to warrant this rage. The USB drive burns in my pocket like a red-hot coal.

Aries moves to the closet, and I shrink back against the wall, using the clothes as a shield, praying the darkness conceals me. My heart pounds so loudly I’m afraid the sound will give me away. I hold my breath when he reaches up to the shelf where I found the shoebox, pulling it down and rifling through its contents.

“Where is it?” he mutters to himself. “Where the fuck didyouhide it?”

What does he mean, you?

I watch through a small gap in the clothes as he dumps the box’s contents onto the bed— newspaper clippings, photographs. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he shoves everything back inside and returns the box to the shelf.

For one terrifying moment, his hand brushes against the sleeve of one of his trench coats I’m hiding behind. Thankfully he’s too preoccupied to notice the slight movement, the whisper of fabric against fabric. After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes, he makes a disgruntled sound and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I wait, counting to one hundred before daring to breathe normally again. My legs tremble as I emerge from the closet, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Whatever is on this USB drive is important enough to enrage him. Important enough to potentially disrupt someagreementhe has with an unnamed associate.

The first thing I need to do is get out of here and examine its contents.

I’m willing to face Aries’s, wrath, but if this is related to his father’s work, then...am I willing to facehiswrath, as well?

What if I screw something up?

Since I was a child, I’d had a problem keeping my nose out of other people’s business. I notice every tiny detail, all of the changes. What if this gut instinct has nothing to do with Aries being different? I guess that’s a risk I have to take.

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