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“What did you find?” Boone asked as he entered the server room. When West gave him a wary look, Boone groaned. “Please, tell me you have something, anything , that says this is all some really elaborate hoax or hazing or…just plain old bullying?”

“Unfortunately not,” West said, spinning in his chair to look at him. “Remi found and closed the backdoor fairly quickly, so there’s that. The good news is that whoever the hacker was, they created the backdoor themselves.”

“That’s good news?”

West rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it means there hasn’t been a gaping hole in our security system for the entirety of the program. This one was only installed about ten days ago.”

“I’m assuming there’s also bad news?” Boone asked. “Or…more bad news, I suppose.”

West nodded, expression grim. “The bad news is we have no idea who installed it, only that the IP address originated from within the school.”

Boone fell silent, letting the quiet hum of the computers act as white noise while he tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. His chest burned as acid chased its way up his esophagus. The idea that there was yet another traitor in their midst had Boone reaching into his pocket to pull out a roll of Tums, popping four into his mouth and crunching them. He used to hate the taste but had long ago adapted to the sweet chalky flavor. It was getting to the point where he was using them like breath mints.

When he noticed West side-eyeing him, he barked, “What? I didn’t have time to eat lunch.”

“You know that’s not candy, right? There’s a recommended dosage, and you’re doubling it.”

“What are you, my mother?” Boone countered. Before West could answer him, he brought them back to the matter at hand. “The backdoor was created by someone within the school?” he pressed, though it was more a statement than a question.

“It seems like it, yeah.” West answered.

“If the backdoor is closed, that means they can no longer access our systems or our files, right? Does this mean it’s over?”

West shook his head. “There’s no way to know. We don’t know who created the backdoor or how. We don’t know if someone breached our walls from outside with the help of an accomplice on the inside, or if the original threat came from inside the school. We also don’t know what information—aside from that singular video clip of Remi—they’ve already extracted in the ten or so days they were able to come and go as they please.”

“Christ. You’re telling me that someone might have access to Project Watchtower’s files?” Boone asked, his pulse throbbing behind his eyes once more.

“Not necessarily,” West said. “The research data for the program itself isn’t held on the school’s servers; it’s housed at a government facility in DC. The only things they’d be able to access records-wise are possibly student files and some low level HR data. We don’t even keep employee credentials or background checks on these servers. That’s kept with Elite.”

“What would a hacker want with student files? Blackmail, maybe?” Boone asked, thinking out loud. “If there was anything incriminating about the students, it could possibly be used against their parents. Maybe the hacker is looking for money or leverage? But if so, would Remi really be the prime first target? There are plenty of other students whose parents have far more influence and money.”

West shook his head in a helpless gesture, clearly as clueless as Boone. “We’re basically just shooting in the dark when it comes to motives. Until we identify whoever is behind Lady Watchtower, it’s almost impossible to guess their motives. The data logs don’t show that any sensitive information was accessed.”

Boone gave a frustrated groan. “Then what the hell was the point?”

“They could have just been biding their time, or maybe they weren’t looking for information at all. Maybe their goal was to test our system’s security protocols?” West speculated.

Boone sighed. “Level with me. Is this another Kendrick situation? Can I not trust my own staff members?”

“Come on, man. We’ve all known each other for years,” West said. “We were all vetted by the same sources. We all have the same clearance levels. But you know how the game is played. Assets are turned all the time. Kendrick had a higher security clearance than all of us and he turned out to be a conman. Until we have solid proof, it’s all speculation.”

“Do you know of any other student who could hack our systems?” Boone asked. “Other than Remi?”

West shrugged, looking as frustrated as Boone felt. “Hard to say. While Remi never came right out and said he was a hacker, we had his curriculum vitae before he was brought on. We knew about his time at MIT. We knew about his coding and programming skills. There are thousands of excellent hackers out there that wouldn’t dare reveal what they can do. Bragging and showing off is how they end up in prison.”

“Aren’t you a hacker?” Boone asked.

“Why would you assume I’m a hacker?” West retorted.

Boone pulled a face. “I would think that being an expert in cybersecurity would involve knowing how to do what they do. No? How else do you keep the systems you build secure?”

West gave a humorless laugh. “Are you accusing me of being the hacker?”

Boone shook his head. “No, I’m asking what the difference is.”

West scoffed. “My expertise is in designing systems that protect highly classified data. A hacker’s expertise is exploiting weaknesses and vulnerabilities in those systems. There’s some overlap, but I’m no hacker. I don’t have the skills.”

“What does that make Remi? He has an advanced degree in programming. Is he a hacker or a computer expert?”

West seemed to ponder this for a moment before saying, “He’s a bit of both. His academic history is exceptional. Genius IQ. Accepted to MIT at fifteen. Had two published research papers in major journals before he was old enough to vote. Was one year away from his PhD when he accepted his invitation to our program. In his freshman year, he created an autonomous drone navigation system that he sold to the government for an undisclosed amount of money. I would say there’s not much the kid doesn’t know how to do.”

Boone knew much of that from Remi’s file and, while it had seemed impressive at the time, Boone hadn’t seen how it would translate to his work as a handler. But now that he really thought about it, he had no idea why he’d agreed to leave MIT to spend the best years of his life babysitting a psychopath.

It wasn’t that the other handlers in the program weren’t gifted. Most of those invited to the school had been in the top one percent of their graduating classes. Many had GPAs far above a 5.0 and almost all had received their bachelor’s degrees from Ivy League schools. While the assets were held to less rigorous academic achievements, the handlers had to prove their worthiness through their intelligence and dedication.

Boone was grateful the CIA hadn’t been quite as picky with him. Much like the assets, his advanced military training had been enough for them to recruit him. If there had been an IQ test attached to the application, Boone wasn’t sure he would be sitting where he was today. His esophagus probably would have thanked him for it.

They were quiet for a few moments before Boone asked, “How do we find this prick? Do we just go shock and awe and have the MPs conduct surprise room inspections? Seize laptops and look for incriminating evidence? Would they be stupid enough to leave that information on their computer?”

West hopped to his feet and walked to the coffee pot, pushing several buttons on the fancy machine before he shoved a cup beneath the spout and pressed the green button. He leaned against the table, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed at the ankles as he waited for it to brew. “We’re definitely missing something. I can’t help but feel like this bullshit video was some kind of…diversion tactic or maybe some kind of message?”

Boone just didn’t know. How did someone determine a motive with one over-the-top video? They didn’t know who created the backdoor or why. They didn’t know if the grudge was against Remi personally or if he just happened to be the most accessible. They didn’t know what information they were searching for. It was all questions and no answers.

West picked up his cup and brought it to his lips, taking a sip then sighing like it was soothing his soul somehow. Boone’s gaze drifted away from the other man, then fell on the door at the opposite wall. The door to the server room.

He frowned. “Is it possible they weren’t after our servers…but those servers?” Boone asked, staring at the heavy door with its ocular scanner and keypad. “Kendrick was pretty adamant that what’s on those servers is worth killing for.”

West grabbed popcorn from the snack bin below the table, taking it and his coffee back to his chair. Boone’s lip curled as West opened the bag and dumped it directly into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully before chasing it with the black coffee.

“Outside of the staff, only a handful of people off-site know these servers exist, and they all serve in the highest offices and they—like us—are all aware that those servers cannot be reached through this system.” He waved his hand at the computer screens before him. “They’re designed to be unhackable.”

Boone gave a frustrated groan. “Is it possible that someone talked who shouldn’t have or a file was leaked? Maybe someone out there doesn’t realize these servers are unreachable?” Boone shook his head. “Leave it to Kendrick to put one small door between a school full of psychopaths and information that could potentially cripple nations.”

West gave him an affronted look. “I’ll have you know that even if someone attempts to break into that room, they would have to make it past the ocular scanner and the ten-digit security code that resets every twelve hours. And once they did that, they would find themselves directly in a mantrap.”

Kendrick hadn’t mentioned a mantrap—a small room that required one door to close before another was opened—when he’d mentioned the servers, but why would he? It wasn’t like Boone had ever had any intention of accessing them.

West jabbed a finger in Boone’s direction. “Past the mantrap, there’s a secondary door that also has another ocular scanner and another resetting ten digit code. If someone, somehow, managed to get past all that, they would then have to get past the temperature controls.”

“Temperature controls?”

“The server room has certain environmental and humidity controls that also act as a final security measure,” West explained.

“How do you know all this? I didn’t think you and Kendrick were that close.”

West looked at him like he was stupid. “Who do you think designed the system, dumbass?”

Boone’s eyes widened. “You designed the security for the server room?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? It’s my literal job. Why would they have hired an external company when I already had clearance?”

“If you designed it, you could dismantle it. No?” Boone asked. “Did Kendrick really trust you enough to hand you the keys to trillions of dollars worth of sensitive information?”

West narrowed his eyes at him. “You think I can be turned?”

Boone closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Did I say that?”

West huffed out a breath through his nose. "Look, I get that my intimate knowledge of our security system might seem concerning, but I feel the need to clarify a few key points that safeguard against even me exploiting the system.”

“Such as?”

West huffed. “Well, first of all, while I did design the initial framework, the system has undergone a ton of modifications and updates that involved several third-party audits. This means the current version has elements even I know nothing about.”

“What else?” Boone asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all.’ That implies there’s a second of all,” Boone reminded him.

West rolled his eyes. “ Second of all , the system is designed with checks and balances specifically to prevent any one person from having total control or access. For example, the ocular scanners and numeric codes require biometric and knowledge-based authentications that I, alone, cannot override. These components are updated regularly by a different off-site team, and changes are logged in a secure database that requires multi-person authorization to access.”

“Okay, I get?—”

“ Furthermore ,” West interrupted, “the system’s integrity relies on more than just hardware or software; it’s also about procedural security. It was designed so that no one person could access the server room without help. This isn’t something that can be easily bypassed, even by someone who knows the system well.”

Boone held his hands up in surrender. “I get it.”

That didn’t seem good enough for West. “And I’d like to point out—again—that we’ve been vetted by the same people, asshole. If I’m a suspect, so are you."

Boone’s head was spinning. “I never said I suspected you. But it’s clear that more than a handful of people know about that room.”

“That’s not true. They know that a high-tech security system exists within an elite school on a military base. They have no idea what it contains.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything about any of this before now?” Boone asked.

West frowned at him. “About what? Designing the system that protects the server room? Why would I? Do you involve me in your day-to-day decisions? Did you consult me before you chose the students, before you approved the curriculum? No, because that’s not my area of expertise. It’s yours.”

He had a point. “I don’t know where we go from here,” Boone finally said. “I don’t know how to investigate with so little evidence.”

“With your permission, I’d like to keep Remi working on this with me. I’m good at my job, but it takes a hacker to catch one, and we happen to have one of the best I’ve ever seen at our disposal. Besides, if that tape did nothing else, it motivated Remi to find the answers we need.”

Boone nodded reluctantly. Letting Remi work on this would paint an even larger target on the boy’s back, but that couldn’t be helped. Besides, they were in the espionage business. Nobody was ever really safe.

“I’m heading back to my office to try to decide what to tell the higher-ups. I’m sure I’m going to be fielding phone calls from dozens of angry parents if this gets out.”

“I’ll let you know if we find anything.”

By the time Boone left his office, night had fallen, his stomach was growling, and his ears were ringing from the verbal tongue- lashing he’d gotten from the board. Again. He was getting too old for this shit. He could have been sitting on a beach somewhere drinking something with a high alcohol content and a small colorful umbrella in it. Instead, he was there, trying to untangle another mystery. Life was easier when he just had to shoot people.

He’d almost made it inside his apartment without issue when a hand stopped the door from closing. His stomach clenched as he felt Payton’s presence behind him even before he turned around. The memory of the boy’s lips on him still echoed in his head. He barely had enough time to turn around before Payton was on him, closing the door and pushing Boone up against it.

“Payton—”

Payton’s mouth closed over his, swallowing his protest as he licked his way into Boone’s mouth, tongue sliding wet and silky over his. He let out a breath through his nose, his hands gripping Payton’s shoulders. He could feel his body responding. It wasn’t his fault. He was addictive. He meant to push him away. He really did. But a million protests died on his lips as Payton’s hands slid under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders.

“Do you have a safe word?” he asked between kisses.

Boone snorted. This fucking kid. He wasn’t even kidding. He truly wanted to know if Boone had a safe word. It was on the tip of his tongue to say he’d never needed one before, but the words died on his lips. How had he let Payton twist him in knots like this so quickly? Not even two minutes through the door and his tongue was down Boone’s throat and he was half-hard in his pants.

“Do I need one?” Boone countered breathlessly.

Payton nibbled at his lips, tongue dipping back inside before he said, “I imagine former assassins like to live dangerously, so it’s up to you.”

Boone’s brain ground to a halt. “Uh…”

Something warm pooled in Boone’s belly as Payton laughed softly. “It’s alright, Daddy. I’ll go easy on you tonight. You can just lie there and I’ll do all the work.”

Boone scoffed, a feeble attempt to convince Payton he was unaffected, even as he throbbed at the boy’s words, fire spiking through him. How many times had he fantasized about that very thing? Payton on top of him. Payton riding him. Payton taking what he wanted. Still, it was all happening so fast it was a little dizzying, or maybe that was all the blood rushing from his brain to his dick.

Boone wasn’t really the adrenaline junkie he used to be. He just…needed a minute.

When he freed himself from another dirty kiss, Payton tried to follow, making a distressed sound when Boone put some distance between them.

“Payton…”

Payton pitched forward, undeterred, attaching his mouth to Boone’s neck, sucking and biting at whatever skin he happened upon. “Stop saying my name like you plan on making me leave,” he murmured. “There’s nobody here to see you being noble. It’s just the two of us, and I know you’ve been fantasizing about this for months. I have, too. Just let it happen.”

How did he know Boone so well? Was he that transparent? He could practically hear Park and the others screaming yes . But it was hardly the responsible thing to do. Payton was a student. His student. There was a power imbalance there. Boone just wasn’t sure it tipped in his favor. Payton had been bull-dozing over Boone since the day they’d met. What would happen once they crossed this line?

He gripped Payton’s shoulders and gently pushed him away once more, holding him in place so he couldn’t come right back again. He caught the boy’s gaze, determined to make him hear him. He expected to find Payton’s usual cheeky smirk, but instead, the boy’s face fell, a sudden vulnerability in his eyes that stripped Boone’s heart bare. Like he was just waiting to be rejected. Was this another manipulation tactic, or was Payton capable of feeling more?

Boone’s chest tightened. Fuck.

He could handle cocky Payton. He could handle psychotic Payton. Hell, even bratty Payton. But this one—the one who looked like he was two seconds away from crumbling if Boone refused him…

He didn’t know if he could be responsible for that.

Boone searched his face, taking in swollen red lips and flushed cheeks. “Are you playing me?”

Payton licked over his bottom lip, tilting his head, rearranging his expression into something that was almost, but not quite, his usual self. “I’m not sure which answer would make you feel better.”

Boone sighed. “How about the truth?”

“The truth is a matter of perspective,” Payton countered.

“You talk like the Riddler,” Boone said warily, releasing Payton and moving farther into the room.

Payton lingered beside the door for a moment before moving deeper into the apartment, following Boone around like a lost puppy. He had to admit, there was something weirdly addicting about a vulnerable Payton, even if it was just an act.

Boone walked to the sofa, stifling a smile when Payton followed along once more. Boone gently pushed him onto the cushions, his pulse spiking as Payton gazed up at him just like he had when he was on his knees for him earlier, eyes filled with tears as he’d choked on Boone’s cock. Christ. He was so fucked.

“Stay put…or…don’t,” he said, distracted. “But I need a shower.” Payton opened his mouth, but Boone put up a hand. “Alone. I’m gonna shower alone. If you’re still here when I get out, I’ll figure out what to do with you then.”

Payton huffed, but he didn’t protest, face forming a pout that went straight to Boone’s dick. He left him where he was, closing his bedroom door just for an added layer of protection, then stripping down as he crossed the room. He waited for the water to heat up, his body thrumming with awareness.

Once under the scalding water, he just stood there, letting the steady pressure beat against his tired muscles. He wasn’t sure how long he lingered before he began to wash himself mechanically, his mind filled with thoughts of Payton. The boy was hellbent on sleeping with him tonight.

Boone didn’t know what was holding him back. There wasn’t a single person in the school who would care if they were together. Outside the school might get a bit tricky. The higher-ups had rules and protocols, but they’d accepted Park and Gift with little fanfare. Of course, Park was a teacher, whereas Boone was in charge of the entire school. It was an important distinction.

But it wasn’t the rules that had him hesitating. He’d never been much of a rule follower. He just wanted…more from Payton. He just didn’t know if there was more.

Payton was many things. He was cunning. Meticulous. Disturbingly charming when he chose to be. He was also a psychopath—the closest they had to a true textbook psychopath next to Drake. He had one of the highest IQs in the entire school. He also had the highest body count, a fact Boone had overlooked for only Payton.

Still, Boone needed more. He needed a…connection. Did that make him old or just old-fashioned? Despite what Boone knew to be true about psychopaths, he felt like Payton had the potential to be that for him. Look at how he protected Gift. A textbook psychopath wouldn’t be so close to someone like Gift. Would they? Maybe Boone just wanted that to be true. Was he reaching?

He sighed, staring down at his still half-hard cock. Payton did something to him. There were so many reasons to turn him away, to send him back to his room, but Boone wouldn’t do it. He knew he wouldn’t. Now that he’d gotten a taste of Payton, there was no way he was ever going back. He was a weak man. Payton knew it. Boone had already lost.

He looked up when he heard the bathroom door open, watching as all the built-up steam was sucked from the room, revealing Payton as his not-so-mysterious guest. Boone pushed his wet hair off his face, checking out his intruder through the condensation on the otherwise clear shower curtain. He bit back a groan, his cock kicking at the sight of him.

Boone peeked around the edge of the shower curtain, eyes bulging as he took in Payton’s clothing…or lack thereof. He’d clearly decided to make himself at home, doing away with all of his uniform but the long-sleeved white dress shirt. It looked big on him, like he was wearing someone else’s shirt. Boone’s shirt.

No…he was wearing Boone’s shirt. The one he’d discarded on the way into the bathroom. That little shit. Boone couldn’t tear his eyes away, greedily taking in the way the shirt hung off one shoulder, revealing pretty skin, black ink, and one pert pink nipple. Boone’s gaze snagged on the tightened peak, his teeth aching to bite it. Would Payton whine? Cry? Did he like a little pain? Or did he only like giving it?

Boone allowed himself a moment to take him all in. His messy hair, the makeup smudged around his eyes, the miles of leg on display with Boone’s shirt only skimming the tops of his thighs. Was he still wearing underwear? Had he stolen that, too? He couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed. Payton wanted to smell like him. He was standing there, wrapped in Boone’s scent, just waiting for Boone to finally give him what he needed.

Payton made no attempt to join him, just closed the door quietly, holding Boone’s gaze while he slid down to sit on the bathroom floor. He held Boone’s gaze as he bent his knees, widening his legs to reveal short, tight black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his slim thighs or the state of his arousal. Saliva pooled in Boone’s mouth like he was an animal. Why did Payton have to be so fucking beautiful?

Boone forced himself to glower at him. “I thought I told you to stay put?”

Payton played with one of the buttons on his shirt. “I’ve never been a very good listener.”

Boone snorted, eyes still hungrily roaming his body. “That’s an understatement. You should go back to the sofa.”

Payton thunked his head back against the door, looking a little…something. “It’s too quiet out there. I’m bored. Just…talk to me.”

“About what?” Boone asked, letting the curtain fall back into place.

How much could Payton see through the clear plastic? Could he see how hard he was? Did he like the view as much as Boone did? He rolled his eyes at his own desperation.

“I don’t know. Anything. Tell me about your day,” Payton suggested.

It was the hope in Payton’s voice that made Boone’s heart stutter behind his ribs. He really was a sucker. “You want to hear about my shit-show of a day?” Boone asked. “Really?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Payton countered, sounding hurt.

Boone hesitated before saying, “A little, yeah. I spent the morning chasing a ghost and the afternoon getting my ass handed to me by a bunch of bureaucratic douchebags.”

If Boone had told anyone he ran a school for psychopathic assassins and their government-paid babysitters, they’d likely assume the excitement never stopped. But truthfully, ninety percent of his job was monotonous. When kids weren’t blowing up the lab and Park wasn’t trying to mount Gift in the classroom, it was mostly meetings, report writing, and case studies.

Until that morning, anyway.

“Then tell me about Remi,” Payton said, as if he could sense Boone’s shifting thoughts.

Boone sighed, picking up the soap again, fully prepared to take the world’s longest shower just to avoid his inevitable tumble into deviance. “What about him?”

“He wasn’t in classes. Did he really stay in his room all day? Was he on room restriction like Navy?”

Boone frowned. “You think I would punish him for something like that?”

“No,” Payton finally said. “So, he was just in his room all day hiding?”

That wasn’t the case, but Boone wasn’t sure how much he should disclose to Payton. Remi deserved some privacy after a day like this. “Is that so shocking? Who would want to be in classes after all that?”

“I know he’s quiet,” Payton said. “But he’s ballsier than people think. The only person he ever lets push him around is Drake and I’m pretty sure he’s done with him, too.”

When Boone didn’t respond right away, Payton gave a frustrated whine. “Talk to me. I’m bored.”

“You could just go back to your room.”

Payton huffed. “You’re mean. Or maybe you just don’t trust me.”

Did Boone trust Payton? He did. Instinctively, despite all evidence to the contrary, he trusted that Payton would keep his secrets. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it just proved that Payton had successfully seduced him like some sad mark he needed to squeeze for information.

Boone snorted. Two decades as an assassin only to be taken out on home soil by a spoiled little monster with messy hair and lips that made Boone weak in the knees.

Once more, he pushed the shower curtain back enough to catch Payton’s gaze. “This doesn’t go outside this room,” Boone said, leaving no room for argument. “Understand?”

Boone’s cock pulsed as Payton gave a little shiver at Boone’s tone, biting his bottom lip and nodding. Did the little shit like being told what to do? Of course, he did. He screamed “switch” in every sense of the word.

Christ, he was hot. Boone wanted to ruin him. He wanted to break him. He wanted to hear him beg, wanted to see him whining and crying, split open by his dick. “I need words, Payton. Do you understand?”

Payton’s lids fluttered, his gaze finding Boone’s. “Yes, Daddy,” he said, not an ounce of sarcasm in his tone.

Boone couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and stroking himself a few times just to take the edge off. He was so hard it was borderline painful. From nothing. Just from a little kissing and Payton in his fucking shirt...surrounded by his fucking scent…miles of leg on display just for him. Fuck.

He was a weak, weak man.

Fuck. He needed to focus. He needed a distraction.

He dropped the curtain back into place, pretending he wasn’t afraid of his feelings for a kid who was—conceptually—young enough to be his child. Boone used to have morals. He used to have a code of ethics, skewed as it was. Now, he was willing to risk it all to stick his dick in a kid who killed like it was nothing, like life was a movie and he was the main character.

Boone stayed quiet, letting the sound of the water echoing off the tiles act as white noise while he stomped his inner turmoil into a box that didn’t quite fit, then shoved it onto a high shelf to be forgotten along with all his other emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

“He was with West all day,” he finally said, wincing at how raspy his voice sounded. He cleared his throat to try again, not missing Payton’s soft laugh. “They think the breach came from some kind of backdoor in the security software.”

“An inside job?” Payton asked, his surprise evident. “Does that mean whoever is doing this really is a student? That’s wild.”

Boone shrugged, even though Payton likely didn’t see it. “That or someone inside gave an outsider access and whoever is behind this is pretending to be a student to increase the chaos.”

Payton was quiet for so long Boone was tempted to look to make sure he was still there.

“Remi didn’t seem…surprised, exactly. By the tape, I mean,” Payton clarified, like he was rolling the problem around in his mind. “Just…hurt. Do you think he might know who this person is? Maybe someone out for revenge or someone using him to hide their true target?”

Boone hesitated before he sighed and said, “Remi didn’t act surprised because he wasn’t. He knew something was coming that painted him in a bad light.”

“Someone was blackmailing him?” Payton asked, his surprise evident. “Remi?”

“No,” Boone said, guilt punching him in the gut. “He knew there would be something coming because we told him it was coming.”

The confession hung in the steamy air for a long moment. “We? How would you know this video was coming?”

“We didn’t know about the video itself. We were in the process of creating something that would imply one of the students—Remi—was involved in something shady.”

Payton frowned. “I don’t understand. You created the video? You guys did this to Remi?”

Payton didn’t sound angry so much as confused.

“We didn’t create the video or send that email,” Boone said, then hurried to clarify their involvement, adding, “There were…concerns that students weren’t taking Suri’s assignment from yesterday seriously. Some of the staff worried that teaching psychopaths how to use propaganda and misinformation to destabilize a government was a bad idea, especially since they lack the capacity to care about the outcome. Someone—I don’t remember who—floated the idea of a morality test.”

“A morality test?” Payton parroted.

“Yeah. Put someone in the hot seat and see who rallied behind him and who piled on.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Payton muttered.

Boone’s expression soured as he pretended to ignore Payton’s unsolicited—and also correct—opinion. “We chose Remi because he’s well liked. But I made West ask his permission first. We wanted to test the assets, not traumatize the handlers.”

Saying it out loud really drove home how stupid the plan truly was. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now, it had devolved into a disaster.

“So, do you know who created the video?” Payton asked.

“No,” Boone said, shaking his head. “Whoever created it took some liberties. Most of that footage is fake. The rest was manipulated. None of it came from us except the parking lot footage of Remi selling his files.”

“So, whoever doctored the footage knew that you guys were going to do something to Remi,” Payton reasoned. “How many people knew about it?”

Boone frowned. “The decision was only made last night. But the majority of the staff were in attendance.”

“None of the students knew?” Payton asked.

“Only Remi and that was after the decision had been made,” Boone said.

Payton seemed to chew on this information, then asked, “You don’t think this is another Aspen situation, do you? Do we have another mole in the school?”

“I honestly don’t know. And I’m afraid we won’t know before they come up with another ‘secret’ to reveal,” he air-quoted. “I don’t get why the students are so quick to believe this shit. I thought, for sure, the assets would be the ones piling on, but, instead, it’s the handlers.”

Payton sighed. “Your logic is flawed. You created this morality test on the assumption that you could appeal to the morals of a psychopath. You should have come at the problem by showing us how misusing that information could directly affect our own lives. We know how to use information strategically. Most of us could have taught a class on manipulation techniques before we were out of diapers.”

“Meaning?” Boone asked.

“Meaning, if the information leaked had benefited the assets in any way, we may have been quicker to jump on Navy’s bandwagon. Well, not me, but some of the others—those who don’t know Remi. But none of us have anything to gain by vilifying Remi…except possibly getting to Drake.”

“Drake was an unexpected ally earlier,” Boone admitted. “I thought he would immediately cut bait and leave Remi to be picked clean by the vultures.”

Payton smirked. “You don’t know much about Drake and Remi, do you?”

Boone didn’t know anything other than the two were tagged to work together and that Drake was too much of a psychopath for a handler as soft-hearted as Remi. “Know about them?”

“Mm,” Payton hummed. “Their little cat and mouse game. I used to find it fascinating, but not so much anymore.”

“Fascinating how?” Boone asked, reaching for the shampoo.

“Drake’s been using Remi since day one, using his crush on him to get him to do everything from homework to handjobs. For some reason, Remi was desperate for his attention, willing to sit at his feet with hearts in his eyes just for a moment of his affection. I used to feel sorry for the kid. I couldn’t understand why he did it. He’s not ugly. He’s not dumb. He’s just…quiet. I didn’t realize how terrifyingly diabolical Remi is until we all had to work together on that murder case a few months ago.”

Boone tipped his head back, rinsing the soap from his hair. “Diabolical? Remi?”

Payton sounded amused as he said, “At least where Drake’s concerned. He doesn’t know it yet, but he will. He’s been playing checkers while Remi is playing chess.”

“Explain.”

Payton laughed. “In the beginning, Drake love-bombed Remi when he wanted something and was smug and condescending when he didn’t. He bragged about how he could get Remi to do anything he wanted and how Remi never complained. He joked that Remi was his cute little puppy, happily living on scraps.”

“What an asshole,” Boone muttered.

“Agreed,” Payton said. “On the other hand, our little Remi has been feeding Drake a steady and addictive diet of blind adoration for months, no matter how mean Drake got. Remi has been his tutor, his therapist, his comfort object, and his—well, if you believe Drake, anyway—his fuck buddy.”

Boone frowned. When he said nothing, Payton sighed like Boone was dense. Hell, he supposed he was. He hadn’t picked up on any of this. He grabbed the conditioner, noting the now tepid water temperature.

“You really don’t get it?” Payton asked. “Today, Drake— our Drake—defended Remi in front of the whole school all because Remi gave him the silent treatment for less than five hours. Do you know the kind of power someone has to have over a psychopath to break them so quickly?”

Boone’s brows went up. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Boone didn’t like Drake. At all. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Boone had cut him in the first round of student picks. He was just too unpredictable, arrogant in a way that went beyond psychopathy, a borderline narcissist. In the end, it was nepotism that had gotten Drake where he was. That and another student mysteriously deciding he didn’t want to join the program.

Boone could hear the smile in Payton’s voice as he said, “Remi is Drake’s Achilles heel. He needs Remi’s love. He needs his attention. Remi cut off his supply for a few hours, and now, Drake’s turning himself inside out to get it back. It’s iconic, really. If you could get Remi to teach the other handlers how to do that, you could revolutionize the program.”

“What happens if Remi refuses to give in to him?” Boone asked after a few moments.

Payton giggled. “Drake will crash and burn.”

Boone turned the shower off, blindly grabbing a towel from the rack, blotting the water from his face and hair before combing it back with his fingers. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

He pushed open the curtain, startling when he realized Payton was far closer now than just a moment ago. He no longer sat on the floor but perched on the closed toilet lid, legs spread wide as he lazily perused Boone’s naked body, his gaze zeroing in on his cock.

“Can we stop talking about other people now?” Payton murmured, licking his lips.

He took the towel from Boone and crooked his finger at him. Boone stumbled forward without thought, then seemed to remember himself. “Payton…”

“Yes, Boone?” he asked, blotting the water from Boone’s legs, pressing an almost chaste kiss to his hip bone as his eyes locked on Boone’s rapidly filling cock.

“You have to stop this,” Boone said, hating how breathless he sounded. “ We have to stop this.”

“This?” Payton asked with mock confusion. He kissed the spot again, this time with an open mouth, letting his tongue dance over the ridge there.

Boone swallowed hard as Payton leaned forward, taking him in hand, kissing the tip of his cock. “Or maybe this?”

Before Boone could gather the brain function necessary to realize what was happening, Payton stood, claiming his mouth. Arousal flared in his blood like a lightning bolt striking dry ground.

Payton’s high-pitched whine had Boone groaning against his lips. He kissed like he looked; wild, dangerous, slightly off-center.

Boone gripped the boy’s face hard, angling his head to push his tongue inside. Payton’s eager little noises had Boone’s cock throbbing. Fuck, he wanted him so bad. There was no angel or devil on his shoulder, just his brain screaming all the ways this would complicate things. His aching erection was quick to remind him they were both adults.

They could do what they wanted.

Except, he ran the school.

Fuck.

He pushed Payton away gently, both of them breathing heavily. “We can’t do this.”

Payton surged back into his space. “I promise, we totally can.”

“There’s a power imbalance here,” he started, his hands catching in Payton’s slightly sweaty curls, keeping him from resealing their mouths together.

He was fully prepared to explain his thesis on why him fucking Payton would be a violation of trust when Payton rolled his eyes. “I mean, I know my dad’s kind of scary…and I am a psychopath, technically even a serial killer, but I feel like your status as a former hitman puts us on a pretty even playing field. No?”

Boone blinked at him stupidly for a moment while his words sank in, then he said, “You—I’m—I’m not the one who’s being taken advantage of in this scenario, Payton,” he growled, frustration leaching into his voice. “As your headmaster?—”

Payton moaned again, sliding his hands over Boone’s naked chest. “God, just hearing the word headmaster out of your mouth has me so fucking hard I’m leaking. Feel.”

He grabbed Boone’s hand and led it to the bulge in his underwear. He was hard. He held Boone’s hand there, grinding against it with a shudder before moving it to let Boone feel the wet spot on the fabric. “See?”

Boone gave Payton a pleading look, silently praying he would be the one to pull the plug on this. Boone wasn’t strong enough to refuse Payton when he looked like that and touched him like that. He had months and months of pent-up need about to snap within him.

“Please, just tell me to stop,” Boone whispered, dropping his head to bury his face in Payton’s neck, inhaling his scent.

He couldn’t stop himself from pressing a kiss over his pulse, letting his tongue dart out to taste the tang of his skin. Fuck. When he dragged himself back, Payton was giving him an almost condescending look. Boone might have taken offense if the boy didn’t look so fucked out already, pupils blown, eyelids heavy, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet. He was fucking gorgeous.

“You look so stressed, Booney,” he said with an exaggerated pout before patting his head.

“Of course, I am,” he mumbled. “You’re killing me right now.”

Payton’s whole face changed, and his voice went from that mocking tone to one that sounded genuine. “Sorry, baby. You really do need a keeper, huh?” He traced one long finger down the bridge of Boone’s nose. “Someone to take care of you.”

His words curled around him, like Payton was drawing him deeper with some kind of magic spell. “I’ve taken care of myself my whole life. It’s fine,” he managed.

“And now, you don’t have to,” Payton promised, pressing his lips to Boone’s jaw, then just beneath.

The casual statement felt like a gut punch. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He couldn’t let himself rely on Payton, not like this. Not in any meaningful way.

“Fuck, you have no idea how bad I want you,” Payton whispered.

Boone’s cock wept at his words. There was no hiding the effect Payton had on him. Even as he tried to tell himself this couldn’t happen, he knew it already had. He didn’t just want to fuck Payton, he cared about him and wanted Payton to care about him, too. No matter how unlikely it might be.

Soft lips brushed against his Adam’s apple, then sucked on the spot. Boone’s arms wrapped around Payton’s waist, pulling him in before sliding his hands into his underwear to squeeze his bare ass. Why was he fighting this? They felt inevitable, really. Boone was the immovable force to Payton’s unstoppable object.

“What are we doing?” he heard himself say.

“I’m helping you relieve some stress, obviously,” Payton said, closing the distance between their lower bodies, groaning when his erection pressed in the groove between Boone’s hip and his thigh. “And you’re helping me relieve some”—he ground himself against him—“pressure.”

“Fuck,” Boone managed as their lips found each other again. This kiss was slower, deeper, dirtier. Boone sank his fingers into the flesh of Payton’s ass. When Payton whined into his mouth, something snapped within him and everything turned frantic and greedy, their hands tearing at each other. He poured every ounce of his frustration and irritation into taking Payton apart, desperate to hear more of those needy sounds he was making.

After a few moments, Payton tore his mouth away, and he dropped back onto the closed toilet lid, face right next to Boone’s hard length. He stared down at the boy, rapt as Payton looked up at him with those big eyes, looking far more innocent than he’d ever been. He was so goddamn pretty, every dirty fantasy coming to life right in front of him.

Payton leaned in, his lips dragging along the base of Boone’s cock, then slightly lower to his balls. “Fuck, you smell so good here,” he huffed, his hot breath puffing against his skin. He wrapped his hand around him almost reverently. “You’re just so fucking big.”

His dick drooled at Payton’s touch. Boone settled his hands in his hair, attempting to comb through it just as he’d done for Boone, but Payton’s hair was far too thick for that, curling around Boone’s fingers like cursed vines, causing him to tug on the boy’s hair.

Payton moaned, the sound vibrating along Boone’s length. “I like when you pet me.”

“Yeah?” Boone asked, his fingers tightening in the strands, pressing Payton against him harder.

Payton’s tongue darted out, teeth scraping gently at the base until Boone hissed. “I want to feel you splitting me in half.”

Flames punched through Boone at his words. How many nights had he dreamed of sliding into the tight heat of Payton’s body? Too many to count. “You’re killing me right now.”

Payton caught his gaze as he took him in hand, slapping Boone’s cock against his tongue before licking around the head, capturing the fluid there then showing it to him before he swallowed.

“Payton…”

“I bet you’ll come so hard for me,” he taunted. He rose to his feet, then said, “Open.”

Boone blinked at him, trying to get his brain to function. “W-What?”

“Your mouth. Open it.”

Boone frowned but opened up anyway, earning an approving look from Payton. “You’re so hot when you’re obeying me.”

Boone’s indignant response died as Payton shoved his fingers into his mouth. “Suck.”

Boone closed his lips around Payton’s digits, letting him fuck them past his lips as he imagined it was Payton’s cock instead.

All too soon, Payton was pulling his fingers free. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to finger myself open and then you’re going to bend me over that counter and fuck me ‘til I scream.”

Boone’s breath punched from him as much from Payton’s words as from the sight of him sliding his underwear down and off his legs, revealing his flushed and leaking cock. Boone had to grit his teeth to keep from going to his knees immediately.

Once the fabric pooled at Payton’s feet, Boone grabbed his wrist. Payton’s face fell, expression growing guarded like he was waiting for Boone to reject him again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “I’m still going to fuck you. But it’s my turn to take care of you.”

Payton grew even more uncertain. It occurred to Boone then: Payton was afraid of relinquishing control. He was afraid Boone would send him away. Something like butterflies erupted in Boone’s belly as he realized Payton’s heart wasn’t as impenetrable as he wanted people to think.

“You can still boss me around,” he promised.

Payton’s eyes lit up. “Promise?”

Boone cupped his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Within reason.”

Payton gnawed on his lower lip like he was contemplating it, then nodded definitively. “I’ll take it.”

Boone spun them, pressing Payton’s back against the wall opposite the mirror. “Then tell me what you want me to do to you,” he whispered against his ear.

“On your knees,” Payton said, the slightest tremor in his voice. “I want your mouth on me.”

Boone dropped to his knees, fully prepared to worship at Payton’s altar.

He stroked his hand through Boone’s wet hair. “Good boy.”