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Boone swiped to answer, then hit the speaker button. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you this soon.”

“I went straight from there to the lab here at the VA,” Dr. Kim said.

“What did you find? Anything?” Boone asked, his words filled with urgency.

“Yeah. Something weird,” he said. “Really weird.”

“Not scopolamine?” Payton asked, looking at Boone.

“Yes and no,” Kim answered. “There was scopolamine on the patch, a fairly concentrated amount, even. But it was suspended in a gel matrix with two other agents.”

Payton frowned. “What other agents? What does that mean?”

“Technically, these compounds don’t exist outside of military research,” Kim said. “The first is a substance known in our system as MCA-X. The other agent is called DMTa-47.”

Payton’s frown deepened. “What are they?”

“MCA is a synthetic analog of methyl cyanoacrylate, which we use in adhesives.”

“The patch is adhesive. So, why is that unusual? Wouldn’t you expect to find it there?” Boone asked, trying to piece together why this mattered.

“Not exactly. It’s most commonly used in industrial adhesives, but that doesn’t matter. The VA scientist working on the study didn’t use it as an industrial adhesive. He used it to make a derivative compound called MCA-X. Which is what we found on the patch.”

“In English, doc,” Boone muttered, a throbbing starting deep behind his right eye.

“Methyl cyanoacrylate is an industrial adhesive. MCA-X is a volatile nootropic inhibitor. The substance enhances the effects of other drugs and allows them to penetrate into the system easier through an adhesive gel matrix. In this case, it worked by helping the scopolamine suppress higher cortical functions. Things like executive processing and memory formation. It causes vertigo, nausea, cognitive dissonance. And in humans, it appears to trigger susceptibility to auditory and visual suggestion similar to Devil’s Breath.”

Boone’s stomach churned. The idea of Payton’s body absorbing some kind of toxic mystery substance was too much to comprehend. Who knew what long-term effects that could have on him?

“So, that’s how they got Payton to go back to his room,” Boone said, expression grim. “What was the other substance?”

“Dimethyltryptamine analogue, another compound with active research underway here at the VA. It comes up as a substance known as DMTa-47. It’s a tryptamine derivative similar to DMT?—”

“The drug that makes people hallucinate mechanical elves?” Payton interjected, appearing both concerned and a little excited.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Dr. Kim confirmed. “But it doesn’t cause hallucinations in this form. It acts more like a…neurological lubricant, making one’s brain more prone to imprinting suggestions and less able to distinguish internal and external thoughts. So, not only are you doing whatever they tell you, you think it’s your own idea. You also have no memory of ever having ingested the drug in the first place. You can see how something like that could be beneficial to the military when it comes to things like interrogations and sleeper agents.”

“Well, that’s not terrifying or anything,” Payton said, lip curling in disgust. “Why go to all that trouble just to get me back to my room? Were they just walking around with this on them?”

“I doubt you were the intended target,” Kim said. “Brogan said that Navy’s killing seemed impulsive. Reactionary. Maybe the plan was to have Navy wear the patch to get her to do something for them, but when they killed her and saw Payton, they just…improvised?”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Boone said absently. “Anything else?”

“Well, just one thing.” The silence stretched on the other side of the line for a long moment before Kim said, “They discontinued the MCA-X project because they found that the drug vaporizes at body temperature, which is why the effects are so short-lived. But, more importantly, they found that the patches are highly reactive to UV light.”

“What does that mean?” Payton asked.

Kim cleared his throat. “It means they explode in the sunlight.”

“You’re telling me, if I had exposed this patch to full sun, I would have spontaneously combusted like a vampire?” Payton asked, color draining from his already pale face.

“I’m not sure it would have been that dramatic. But at the very least, you would have been burned,” Kim confirmed. “It does beg the question, though…”

Boone frowned. “What question?”

“What actually caused the lab to blow up the other day? Was it really operator error, or did someone cook this up in your own lab?” Kim asked.

That hadn’t even occurred to him, especially not with Lucy as the culprit. It wasn’t the first time she’d caused a lab accident. Boone wasn’t even sure it was an accident. Payton’s assessment of her that day wasn’t wrong. She was a classic textbook psychopath but without all the charm. She made Boone’s skin crawl. There was just something so…empty in her eyes.

“Fuck,” Boone muttered. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“If you need any further help, I’m only a phone call away,” Kim said, then disconnected without waiting for a goodbye.

Payton pitched forward, pressing his forehead against Boone’s shoulder, groaning. “This just gets more and more complicated every day.”

Boone’s fingers threaded in Payton’s hair, petting him, careful to avoid tugging on the spot where his two staples rested. “The idea of someone making this in our lab…endangering the students…” If Lucy wasn’t the culprit, she was the victim. “Hell, Lucy could have been killed.”

“I’m not sure that’s the loss some people might think,” Payton muttered, sitting back to look at Boone. “Who here knows enough about this sort of thing to create these patches? I know there are kids cooking meth in their garages, but these substances were only tested at the VA, which means it has to be a staff member. What staff member has that knowledge?”

“Only one that I know of,” Boone said, tone grim. “Park.”

“Park?”

“Park is a forensic chemist with a hard-on for poisons in particular. It was often his weapon of choice. He clearly has an excellent grasp of organic chemistry and neuropharmacology,” Boone said. “That’s why he was teaching the class in the first place.”

“But he turned the class over to Pike. He asked him to supervise the experiment. Surely, Pike has to have some knowledge of explosives if Park trusted him to take over the lab?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Boone said, his hand sliding from Payton’s hair to his chest, pressing his palm there.

Payton’s heart was thudding slow and heavy behind his ribcage. Boone found it strangely soothing how calm he was in any crisis.

“What’s Pike’s background?”

“I only know what Kendrick told me. They’d already hired the staff before I arrived. I know that they were all vetted by Elite, just like me. But Aspen made it past. There’s only so much you can do to vet a person who’s spent their entire life as a government-backed ghost.”

“So, you had no say in the hiring process?”

“I’m lucky I got to help choose the students,” Boone admitted, probably sounding saltier than he should about it. “Thomas Mulvaney and Molly Shepherd were part of the initial hiring, but there were seven of us that Kendrick insisted they bring on. It was mandatory. Pike was one of them.”

“So, you don’t know anything about him? Didn’t you know each other? Weren’t you all Kendrick’s assets?” Payton asked.

“Being an asset isn’t like in the movies. We weren’t the A-Team. We mostly worked alone. We had to collaborate every now and again, but it wasn’t like Scooby Doo where we went around working together. I only know enough about Pike to tell you why Kendrick believed he was qualified to teach inter-governmental relations.”

“And that was…”

Boone shrugged. “He’s a third culture kid.”

“A what?” Payton asked.

“His mother was a Portuguese ambassador mostly stationed in Beirut. He traveled with her everywhere. He speaks Portuguese, Lebanese Arabic, French, and English…obviously. He was educated in numerous schools around the world, including international schools in Beirut, then LeRosey in Switzerland, and Eton in the UK. He even spent time in the U.S. because of his father who was a U.S. citizen. It’s why his mother had dual citizenship. Pike was more than qualified to do the job.”

“But why would Park think any of what you told me made him qualified to run an organic compounds class?” Payton asked.

“Let’s just ask him,” Boone said, reaching for his phone.

Payton watched him intently as Boone hit a few buttons, then the sound of ringing filled the space.

“What’s up?” Park asked by way of greeting, sounding strangely out of breath. Boone watched Payton bite back a smile. He was probably thinking that they’d interrupted them mid-sex. That was what Boone thought.

“Why did you pick Pike to watch over the lab the other day?”

There was a long silence and a sound like fabric dragging over fabric. Gift whined in protest in the background. Yeah, he’d stopped to answer Boone’s call mid-fuck. “Is this about the explosion? Pike and I both agree it had nothing to do with the experiment at hand. He’d barely even started,” Park said, immediately defensive.

Park was usually cool as a cucumber. That was one of Boone’s favorite things about him. He was calm in any crisis, almost unnervingly so. Unless he was getting blue-balled by his boss, it seemed. He shook the thought away. He needed to concentrate.

“What do you mean?” he finally asked.

“I mean, Pike said they’d barely sat down when Lucy flipped on the bunsen burner, and boom,” Park said.

“Boom?” Boone repeated flatly.

“Yeah. Luckily, she already had her safety goggles on or she would have lost more than just her eyebrows.”

“But why Pike, specifically?” Payton interjected. “He teaches political etiquette classes. Why would you think he could teach chemistry stuff?”

“Because he was a CbrN Specialist in the Air Force,” Park answered.

Boone huffed out a noise of surprise. That was totally new information to him. It wasn’t that Pike didn’t look the type. He had that rugged, seen-some-shit look about him, but he was an agent. They all looked a little rough around the edges. Besides, Boone had always gotten the impression that he was a rich kid. Rich kids went to college and joined as officers. They didn’t slum it with the enlisted guys.

“A what?” Payton asked.

“Chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear specialist,” Boone said.

“Their job is to handle, neutralize, and deploy chemical and biological agents.”

“Wow,” Payton mused. “You’d think that would be something Kendrick might want you to know.”

“How do you know this?” Boone asked Park. “Did he tell you that himself?”

“No. Suri said she and Pike met before they started working here. That they knew each other when DARPA brought him in as a contractor while she was working there.”

Boone froze. “He worked at DARPA?”

Suri had worked at DARPA, too? He really didn’t know his staff at all. As soon as all this was over, he was calling Thomas and demanding all staff records be unsealed and turned over to him. No more fucking secrets.

“What’s DARPA?” Payton and Gift asked at the same time.

“DARPA is the shadowy, real-life sci-fi arm of the U.S. government that sounds fake but is very real. They fund and develop cutting-edge, high-risk, high-reward tech that the military might use someday—often years before the public ever hears about it,” Boone explained.

“Like…bombs and missiles?” Payton asked.

Boone wished. But things were all starting to click into place with frightening speed.

“Way more than that. Like the internet, GPS, drones, stealth aircraft technology, advanced prosthetics, hell, even the mRNA vaccine platforms to some degree. They’re the best of the best when it comes to R&D. They’ve created all kinds of things we use every day.”

Park’s breath hitched. “Including AI.”

“Exactly,” Boone muttered.

“What?” Payton mumbled.

“AI and advanced machine learning,” Park clarified. “DARPA is currently working on a ton of things. I’ve toured their facilities. Autonomous weapons systems. Cyber warfare defense. Brain-computer interfaces. Mind-controlled prosthetics. Invisibility cloaks. Biotech for soldiers that work like health packs right out of video games. Neurological manipulation. Robots that look just real enough to be the stuff of nightmares…uncanny valley stuff.”

“But that doesn’t mean Pike would know how to use that kind of tech just because he worked there, right?” Gift asked, his voice much closer now, like he was leaning over Park’s shoulder to ask the group.

“No, but we know there’s more than one of them,” Boone said. “Maybe they met someone there who’s helping them on the outside. We know someone gave them the tech to deploy that rubber ducky program to create a backdoor into our system. They could be the person using the AI to create those deep fakes.”

“So, we really think Pike is behind this?” Payton asked. “Is that what we’re saying?”

“That sucks. I liked him,” Gift said sadly.

“If it’s Pike, how do we prove it?” Payton asked.

“We might not have to,” Boone said. “If Remi manages to trace that internal IP, there’s a chance it will point directly to him. Then we can just confront him and be done with this once and for all.”

“Yeah, sure. Easy peasy…” Payton muttered. “What do we do right now?”

“Right now?” Boone parroted. “We sleep. It’s very late, and I have to stand in front of a hundred kids and tell them that my boyfriend isn’t a serial killer and didn’t murder his classmate.”

Park snorted. “Good luck with that.”

He was gone before Boone could retort. It didn’t matter, though. He watched as Payton yawned so hard his jaw cracked. Together, they took their mini-picnic to the kitchen and made sure everything ended up in its proper place.

When they ended up back in bed, Boone gathered Payton to him, tucking him right under his chin, wishing he could hide him from the outside world. Payton buried his face against Boone’s bare chest. No matter how absurd it was, Boone couldn’t get enough of trying to protect Payton. Even when he didn’t need it.

Payton snuggled closer, like he was trying to convey that he saw what Boone was doing and he appreciated it. He slotted his thigh between Boone’s, his arm curving around his waist with a contented sigh.

“Night, Daddy.”

“Night, little monster.”

After much back and forth, Boone, Park, and West agreed with Archer and Mac that the best place to hold the assembly was in the gymnasium. It was the second biggest building they had, and the bleachers would ensure they could see any threat immediately, should one somehow arise.

The bleachers were filled, each pod huddled together, murmuring quietly to each other. Boone leaned against the podium, the staff members in front of him. Brogan, Pike, and West looked exhausted and highly concerned. Pike kept glancing at the antsy students behind him like he worried they’d planned a coordinated attack.

Suri and Justice appeared bored, but both had an eye on their pods, ensuring nobody decided to go rogue. The only students not in their seats were Remi, who was still at the lab, and Payton, who currently stood by the double doors with his two CID babysitters.

“I’m going to try to make this as succinct as possible,” Boone told them. “But we all know they’re on edge. They’ve been caged like animals for over twenty-four hours, and while the handlers are likely fine in their confinement, the assets will be feeling froggy. Try to keep your pods under control at all costs. Understand?”

Everyone nodded.

“Suri, Justice, Pike, and Brogan, go ahead and take your seats. I just need a word with the others.”

That got him a few raised brows, but they didn’t say anything, just did as they were told. When they were alone, Boone looked at each of them. “Listen,” he said quietly. “If I have to do this, we might as well make the most of it. I want you to keep an eye on the staff, especially Pike.”

“Why?” West asked. “What do you think they’ll do in a room full of people?”

“Nothing, but they might give themselves away without meaning to. Look for someone—anyone—who seems to be acting suspiciously. Someone too eager, too concerned, too willing to point the finger at someone else.”

“Oh, I get it,” Archer said, snapping his fingers, then pointing. “It’s the funeral test.”

“The what?” Mac asked.

“The funeral test. Like how cops will attend a victim’s funeral to look at who shows up, to see if any of them are acting suspiciously.

Boone shrugged. “I wouldn’t have called it that, but yeah. That. Our teachers are all agents, and agents are trained to blend in, so it won’t be easy, but just…see if anyone pings your radar.”

“You’ll have the best vantage point out of us all. Use it. Signal one of us if anything makes your Spidey senses tingle,” Park said. “We’ll do the same while we circulate.”

Archer glanced out at the antsy crowd then said, “Maybe it’s best he concentrates on not stepping on any verbal landmines. I have a feeling this particular meeting will get back to all the higher-ups and the parents.”

Boone sighed, then accepted the mic when Mac handed it to him. He gave him a slap on the shoulder before moving to take his seat next to his husband on the lowest riser. Boone scanned the crowd, his gaze automatically dragging to where Payton stood just behind the two CID officers. Like the other students, he wore civilian clothes, though unlike the others, he wore Boone’s hoodie with sleeves that overtook his long fingers and a pair of joggers he’d taken from his room yesterday evening.

Boone took a deep breath and let it out. “I need everyone to quiet down, please.” The murmuring continued. If anything, it grew louder. He raised his voice but didn’t shout. “Listen, you want answers. I need silence. You won’t get what you need until I get what I need.”

When the noise died down, Boone said, “I know you have a lot of questions. But there’s a lot we don’t know yet.”

Almost immediately, people started hurling questions at him from the bleachers.

“Do you know your boyfriend is a serial killer, or are you still investigating that as well?”

“Yeah, why was he allowed to have a body count, but we were told our whole lives we’d be disqualified from the program for dropping a body? Why does he get special treatment?”

“Are we just supposed to be okay with him killing one of us now?”

“Why should we believe anything you say if you’re sleeping with him?”

“Is that fake news, too?”

“Do we get extra credit for murder now?”

“Enough!” Boone shouted. “The next person who screams out a question without waiting for a response will be expelled for slander. Fucking test me.”

There was silence, then more shocked murmurs. When he found Payton’s gaze once more, the boy smirked at him, then winked. When the sound died down, Boone waited, letting them all grow uncomfortable. They deserved it.

After the silence stretched on for a solid sixty seconds, Boone spoke again. “Thank you. Here’s what we know. Sometime early yesterday morning, someone met with Navy in the Peregrine common room. Payton was on his way back to his room when he overheard them from the hall. He heard a suspicious noise and went to investigate, but it was already too late. Navy was on the floor, bleeding. Before he could offer aid, he was hit over the head and knocked unconscious. At some point, he regained consciousness and blindly stumbled back to his room, still bleeding, then passed out in his bed where he was found by his roommate Gift a few hours later. According to the doctor, he sustained a mild concussion but is recovering well. That is all we know.”

“Why was Payton in the hallway past curfew?” someone shouted.

“Because he was leaving my room,” Boone said calmly.

“Convenient,” someone muttered.

“So, that part of the tape was real?” a girl from Suri’s pod asked. “What about Lady Watchtower’s claims that Payton is a serial killer? Are you going to say that’s fake, too?”

“Yes, Payton and I are in a relationship,” Boone said. “But Payton is not a serial killer. That footage was a deep fake just like much of Remi’s was. In the video where Payton is leaving the common room, he’s not covered in blood, right?”

There was some mumbling, but nobody shouted out anything to the contrary, so he continued. “When Gift found him, he was covered in blood. There was no hiding it. He had a huge gash in his head. You didn’t see it on the video because they faked the footage, attempting to frame him.”

More irritated whispers ensued.

“Look, I have no reason to lie to you,” he lied. “Yes, Payton and I are in a relationship. No, he doesn’t get special treatment because of it. But the rest of that video is just fiction. Propaganda. A manipulation tactic. And it’s clearly working on all of you.”

“So, we can just…date the staff now?” a girl called.

Boone scanned the crowd, looking for whoever had asked the question, but there were just too many of them. “You’re all adults. Who you choose to sleep with and date is none of our concern…unless it starts to affect how you do your job.”

“Isn’t it affecting your job?” someone else asked from the crowd.

Boone should have made them all hold a talking stick like in Lord of the Flies so he could at least keep a visual on who was asking the question.

“No, this isn’t affecting my job. Students running and tattling to their parents affects my job. The board calling me up and demanding I have a meeting to appease all of you affects my job.”

He saw some people rolling their eyes, his own gaze straying to Payton once more. He was a few steps behind the CID agents now, Remi behind him, whispering to him intently. He frowned, but then returned to the crowd before they turned on him even more.

“Because of the circumstances, I don’t have time to investigate who it was who decided to send that email—classified information, mind you—to a parent through an unsecured connection, but when I do, you’ll be lucky if you’re still allowed to matriculate here. Do I need to remind you what happens to people who fail this program?”

It was something nobody really spoke about. The fail-safe should all of this go sideways. Those who didn’t successfully work for their government would most likely be on the business end of a Ruger or die in a mysterious car accident. If the whole program went south, they’d blow up the school and call it a gas leak or a terrorist attack. They needed to know this wasn’t a game.

“You can’t be serious,” a girl in the front said, her mouth hanging open.

“Oh, I’m very serious. This isn’t high school. Hell, it’s not even college. You only have two options: graduate and join us or find yourself disappeared to a black ops site where you’ll spend the rest of your life in a cage.”

“Wow,” someone muttered. “Are you threatening us?”

Boone tsked. “Yes. Of course, I am. If you successfully graduate from this school—and for the first time ever, I’m starting to doubt that you will—you’re gonna meet a lot of people. You’ll have to learn how to use whatever you have at your disposal to extract what you need from those people, and sometimes, that involves seduction, bribery, favors. How you get that information is your own business. The government expects you to do everything you can to complete the mission regardless of what sacrifices you have to make on your end.”

“Are you telling us to sleep with people to get information from them?” a girl asked.

Boone sighed, then dug his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. “We’re not children. You’re being trained to be covert operatives who will be expected to live double lives. If you can’t trust what I’m telling you—if you can’t trust the people on your own side—you’ll be dead before you even complete your first assignment.”

“If the video is all propaganda, why is Payton in isolation like a rabid dog,” a guy from Navy’s pod asked.

“Because someone here tried to paint a big fat target on his back. And until we figure out who that is, you’re all in a lockdown masquerading as a Q&A. Welcome to democracy.”

“So, if it’s not Payton, who is it?”

Boone recognized the deep melodic voice as belonging to Mos. “We’re actively investigating all leads along with CID.”

This time, when his gaze strayed to Payton, he frowned.

He wasn’t there.

Payton wasn’t there.

And neither was Remi?

But the two CID agents were.

When did they leave? How long had they been gone? When was the last time Boone remembered looking over there? How much time had passed? Were they okay on their own?

Fuck.