Lunatic - Necessary Evils #6 - Ch. 21-The End (Patreon)

Chapter 21

Archer

“Did you crack it yet, Calliope?” Thomas asked from the speaker in the center of the table.

“I’m getting there,” she muttered.

“Time is of the essence,” Thomas said.

“Well, if someone hadn’t jumped the gun and set the man on fire before he could use the facial recognition, I wouldn’t have to worry about hacking his encrypted cell phone. Would I?” she countered, her tone implying the response was for Adam and not their father.

“In my defense, I was hungry,” Adam said.

“Next time, eat a Snickers,” Calliope snapped. Then, “Yes! Finally. Got it. Sending the address to your phones.”

They’d only managed to sleep a handful of hours before their impromptu meeting. Mac sat at the table nursing what was probably his third cup of coffee, along with Adam, who was eating the cubes of sugar directly from the jar. Felix sat on the floor with Avi’s head in his lap, while Asa sat on the sofa with Zane curled in his arms.

Noah, however, lay on his belly on the floor, feeding pieces of bacon to his vicious but underweight Rottweiler, who currently gazed at him like he was the second coming of the messiah. He’d returned with the puppy after they’d met with Calliope’s contact, who had assured them the girl would be united with her family if it was safe and placed in a good home if it wasn’t.

That was all they could hope for at this point.

Archer continued to pace around the small space. He wasn’t sure he believed Boseman was the brains behind the entire operation, but it didn’t matter. Desiree Rapke and her father, Mitchell Braken, were next up on the chopping block. Though, there was still a matter of the auction.

“What’s the plan?” Archer asked.

“Calliope can shut down the auction online before it even gets started, but that still means extracting the women and children. August and Lucas are en route, but this isn’t going to be easy. All we have is an address.”

“I’m sending satellite images of the property now,” Calliope said. “It’s just a large box-like structure. No windows. Two large doors on the front.”

“There are a lot of variables here,” Thomas said. “I’m loath to let you do this. I should call in a favor and send in a different team.”

A different team. Kendrick. He was calling in favors from Kendrick. Mac looked to Archer, then at the others. It was clear from Noah’s expression he was still smarting from the knowledge that this whole other part of Thomas’s life existed. But he said nothing.

Thomas cleared his throat as if he somehow sensed the tension through the phone. “I want you to focus on extracting the sister and the father. I’m willing to bet they’re pretty hands on at these auctions. They have a vested interest in making sure the auction goes off without a hitch.”

“What about the husband?” Archer asked.

“Yeah, and the dirtbag commissioner?” Noah added.

“Aiden’s taking care of them,” Thomas said cryptically.

Archer blinked at the phone on the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s currently escorting the two gentlemen into Chihuahua where some acquaintances are waiting to take them to their lovely new accommodations in one of the worst prisons in the world.”

“Can you do that?” Mac asked. “Can you just send two Americans to a Mexican prison without paperwork?”

“Oh, there will be paperwork. It won’t be theirs. But it won’t matter,” Thomas assured him. “They’ll never see the light of day again.”

There was something so menacing in his father’s tone that they all stopped and looked at each other. For all Thomas’s talk of polish and manners, despite his strict moral compass and need for law and order, he didn’t just want justice for victims…he wanted revenge. He wanted the punishment to fit the crime.

When Thomas had trained them to take out the bad guys, he’d never talked about what was quick, what was fast. What was humane. He didn’t tell them to put a bullet in their heads or deliver a lethal injection. No, he’d taught them to torture, to make them suffer, to ensure they died screaming.

And that was why Thomas Mulvaney scared the fuck out of his children.

“Your priority is to get those women and children out safely. Then you can take out Rapke and her father,” Thomas said. “Keep your faces covered. We’ll call in the feds once everyone is safe and you’ve acquired the targets.”

Archer hated everything about this. Very rarely did they have to move on something like this with so little intel. Normally, they would anonymously hand over the information to the authorities, but there was no way to know just how deep the corruption ran down there. Even child protective services had attempted to pimp out the children they were supposed to protect.

They had no choice but to go in and extract the victims themselves. Fuck. This was too dangerous. A hand encircled his wrist, bringing his pacing to a halt. He looked up to see Mac, who was giving him a look. Archer’s chest felt tight. He wanted to tell Thomas that Mac wasn’t going. That it wasn’t safe.

But that was stupid.

Mac had more training than any of them. The U.S. government had literally trained him for these types of operations, but Archer suddenly wanted to put him in a box and hide him away from the rest of the world. He wanted to take him back to their base where they were untouchable.

Mac’s thumb skimmed along the inside of Archer’s wrist, refusing to break eye contact. He didn’t say anything, just…touched him, looked at him, but it unknotted something within him. He swallowed hard.

Adam cleared his throat loudly. “I hate to break up this Hallmark movie moment, but we really do need to come up with a plan.”

Spell broken, Archer glared at his brother. “Eat your sugar cubes, Wilber.”

Adam neighed like a horse, then gave him the finger.

###

Archer lay on his stomach, the cold ground seeping into his thighs as he watched the building through binoculars. It was a dark, moonless night which only further hindered their cause. There were four heavily armed guards circling the large structure outside.

Using the thermal scanner, they’d confirmed there were numerous heat signatures huddled together in small groups inside. They’d determined those were the victims held for auction. Most likely detained somehow. There were four other heat signatures roaming behind the walls. Presumably four more guards.

The auction was due to start within the next twenty minutes but there was no sign of Desiree Rapke or her father. Maybe Thomas was wrong. Maybe with Boseman and Egan dead, they were spooked and running scared. Aiden had picked up Dunegan and the husband, so maybe she’d caught wind and ran. They had the means.

Still, they waited, watching the building from all sides. Mac lay beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body. The others were out there as well in teams of two. The twins on the east side of the building. August and Adam on the South. They’d left the rest of the family back at the house, unwilling to risk their lives on a mission with so little planning.

“If they’re a no-show by midnight, we go in without them,” August told the others.

“Agreed,” the twins said in unison.

“The victims are our number one priority,” Archer said. “No guns blazing. We take them out quick and quiet, one by one. We’ll use a distraction to lure out the others.”

“Roger that,” August said.

“What if they don’t show?” Mac asked softly.

Archer turned to look at him. “Then we rescue these people and we leave it to Thomas and Noah to track them down. That’s all we can do.”

Mac sighed. “I just really want this to be over.”

Archer did, too. More than anything. He wasn’t like his brothers. He didn’t enjoy torturing or killing people. He didn’t find it morally repugnant. He just had better things to do. Like his new husband. This wasn’t the life he wanted for them.

He wanted to be back at the school fighting over which students were more suited for the program. He wanted Mac to get drunk and watch his poker games. He wanted them to fuck in every available room on that base before the students started arriving.

Archer’s gaze strayed to his watch, dread settling in his stomach as the likelihood of their targets arriving dwindled.

At six minutes to midnight, headlights appeared on the hard packed earth. “We’ve got movement,” Adam said. “Black Mercedes. Texas plates. I think the guests of honor have arrived and not a moment too soon.”

Thank fuck. Archer brought the binoculars to his eyes once more, watching as a gray-haired man exited the driver’s seat in a pair of khakis and a sweater vest like he was heading to a golf game. Mitchell Braken.

He walked around the car and opened the passenger side door, holding out his hand. A blonde woman stood, who was dressed like she was late for a board meeting. She had on a fitted black suit, sky high heels, and a black mask covering the lower half of her face.

Why was she hiding her identity but he wasn’t? Archer’s stomach churned. Because she was the auctioneer. He didn’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed that she was willing to do so much dirty work herself.

“Once they’re inside, we move,” Mac said.

“August. Adam. Go,” Archer said at exactly midnight.

There was movement on the mic as Adam and August closed in. They listened to the muffled sounds of a struggle and then a rush of breath as one of the guards went down.

“Shit,” August muttered. Then there was more shuffling and a grunt.

“Two down,” Adam whispered.

“August, there’s another guard coming your way,” Mac said, watching the other side of the building.

There was a strange hissing sound, and then Avi’s voice came over the mic. “Not anymore.”

“Three down. One to go,” Adam murmured.

Archer and Mac stood, running low towards the structure as they listened to the fourth guard fall. Now, all that was left was to get the inside guards outside.

Archer picked up a sturdy rock and brought it down on the driver’s side window of the Mercedes, wincing when a shrill alarm split the night air.

Mac and Archer waited on either side of the barn doors, and a moment later, two guards spilled out. Archer’s bullet hit one in the neck. Mac’s was dead center between the eyes. Before Archer could take a breath, two more guards emerged. Archer fired, hitting one, then fired again but missed.

The guard turned, raising his gun not at Archer but Mac. Archer’s heart stopped, finger on the trigger as everything seemed to slow way down. He could feel himself attempting to shoot, but before he could, the man’s head exploded.

Archer blinked, head jerking around to see Avi standing there in his ugly purple balaclava, waving his gun. “You’re welcome.”

The twins hated using guns, but luckily for Archer, they were excellent shots. Archer’s heart raced. Mac threw an arm over his shoulders, squeezing briefly. “Come on, Katniss. We’re not done yet.”

They split off into threes. The twins and August took the rear entrance while Archer went in the front, Mac on his six and Adam bringing up the rear. They swept the place slowly, watching as the others filtered in from the back. There was no way Rapke and Braken had escaped. There was nowhere for them to go.

From the outside, the building looked like an airplane hanger. Inside, it was almost a barn-like structure with several large stalls. But instead of animals, they were holding people. Men. Women. Children. They sat huddled together in silence, eyes wide, clothes filthy, shivering.

Archer could only imagine what they looked like to these people. Six armed men in masks. But he couldn’t worry about that. They needed to end this. His eyes fell to a temporary structure in the center of the space. As they grew closer, Archer could see a camera.

It was some kind of staging area for the auction. This was clearly where they’d intended to show off their wares. That was where they found her. Desiree Rapke. She sat on the floor, cradling a baby in her arms. She no longer wore her mask. She clearly saw no need, now that her auction had been interrupted.

“Isn’t she pretty?” she asked.

“Jesus,” Mac muttered.

“She can’t save you,” Archer warned. “You’re already dead.” He gestured for August and the twins to keep searching. “Find the father.”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she gazed up at them. “Please. I can pay.”

“Save the tears. We don’t need your money,” Adam promised, already sounding bored.

“You say that, but everybody needs money. I’m not a billionaire like your boss, but I can certainly match whatever fee he’s paid you for this job.”

She thought they worked for Thomas. Well, Archer supposed they did. Still, he found it weirdly insulting that she thought she could outbid Thomas Mulvaney. She was used to getting what she wanted. She also had no compunction about using a baby as a human shield.

“Lady, you’ve got nothing we want,” Archer assured her.

Rapke smiled, running her finger along the baby’s forehead. “Perhaps money isn’t your thing, but I can offer up other incentives. Look around. We have something for everybody.”

“What?” Mac said.

She smiled, sniffling. “The men are excellent workers. They never utter a single complaint no matter how hard you work them. The women, some would make excellent domestics. But if your tastes are slightly more…specialized, I can accommodate you in that respect as well.”

“Specialized?” Adam asked.

Her eyes lit up. She thought he was interested. “Mm. The little ones were handpicked by me. They’re pretty. Docile. Quiet. Boys or girls. Take whoever you like. I only ask that you leave the infants with me. They’re bespoke.”

“Bespoke?” Mac muttered. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Custom made,” Archer said, unable to hide his disgust.

“Jesus.” This fucking bitch talked about these infants like they were accessories.

“Slavery was sanctioned in the bible,” she said. “It’s just the natural order of things.”

“You’re a fucking monster, lady.”

“I’m a business woman. I provide a crucial service. Do you understand the crisis we’re in right now?”

“Crisis?” Archer echoed.

“Mm,” she said. “There’s a shortage of white babies. Our numbers are dwindling. More and more people are refusing to have children and the ones who won’t stop breeding are muddying our bloodlines to the point where white people are becoming the minority.”

“So what?” Mac asked.

“So what?” she barked back, her face contorting. “So what? There are families in need. Good, Christian families who are desperate to adopt, but there are no babies anymore.”

“That’s bullshit, lady. There are thousands of kids out there who need homes,” Adam snapped.

She sneered. “Those kids are damaged goods. They have emotional baggage at best and grow up to be criminals at worst. It’s not like that with infants. If you raise them from this age, you can mold them into anything you like. And with enough white blood, you can hardly tell the mothers are…foreigners.”

“You’re disgusting. These are people,” Mac said. “Human beings.”

“That’s your opinion,” she said.

“Found him,” Avi called triumphantly from somewhere within the large structure.

Rapke was temporarily forgotten as Archer watched the twins drag her father between them. He struggled and sputtered, attempting to become dead weight. “Let me go! Let me go! I haven’t done anything!” the man shouted.

Avi lost his patience and hit him with the gun in his hand. The man’s nose exploded, blood painting the cement floor.

“Daddy!” Rapke cried, startling the infant in her arms.

The baby started to wail. Adam stepped forward. “Give her to me.”

She clung to the infant tighter. “No.”

Adam gave a long-suffering sigh, then pointed his gun at her father’s head. “Hand over the baby or watch your father’s brains become my next art installation. Your choice, lady.”

She clung to the infant until Asa grabbed the man’s head and Adam shoved the gun barrel directly into his mouth.

“Okay. Okay. Don’t hurt him,” she begged.

Adam holstered his gun, then gently took the baby, temporarily fascinated with the squirming creature in his arms. “She’s so tiny.”

August joined them from somewhere. “Where are the keys to unlock these doors?”

“How the fuck should I know?” she snapped, attempting to rush to her father’s side.

“I have bolt cutters in my bag,” Asa said. “We’ll free them when we’re finished.”

Avi kicked Braken in the stomach, smiling when the man grunted. “How exactly would you like to dispatch these two?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Mac muttered. “Just make it hurt.”

August shrugged. “I’ll leave it up to the twins.”

“I have some sturdy chains and a trailer hitch. I say we drag them.” Avi grinned. “A couple laps around the desert and I doubt there will be much left of them.”

“You can’t be serious?” the woman said, expression horrified. “Just shoot us.”

Avi hunkered down beside her, pressing his gun to her head. She closed her eyes, her chin wobbling. “No. You don’t get off that easy, princess. Letting you off easy would be sexist.”

She started to cry, then screamed as Avi dragged her off. It took Asa’s and August’s combined effort to get Braken outside. Archer and Mac didn’t follow. They searched until they found a crowbar then began to pry open the doors, freeing the people inside. They didn’t attempt to leave their cages, just eyed them warily.

Archer didn’t blame them. He watched as Adam very gently handed the baby to an older woman who took her without question. He met Archer’s gaze. “I’m going to go make the call.”

They did their best to communicate with the victims, letting them know help was coming. When they finally made it outside, Adam was mid-conversation. “What do you want us to do with the leftovers?” Adam asked Thomas, putting the phone on loudspeaker.

“Leftovers?” Mac muttered to Archer.

Adam gave him a look. “The bodies. Bury ‘em? Burn them like the others? We’re limited out here. But there’s a lot of wilderness. I just don’t want to get yelled at again.”

“You know, you don’t have to tell anybody you’re the baby,” Archer said.

“Bury them. Deep. Where they will never be found,” Thomas said. “It needs to look like they’re in the wind.”

“Got it,” Adam said.

“Calliope has already packaged the evidence for the right people. She’ll make sure it’s delivered to not only the feds but to the media outlets. Everybody will know what they did. It will just be too late.”

“We’ll message when we’re clear and you can send in the calvary,” Adam told Thomas.

“See you at home,” their father said, then disconnected.

“I’m going to go watch Avi live out his wildest fantasies,” Adam said. “You guys coming?”

“Yeah, no thanks. I just want to go home,” Archer muttered.

Adam looked around. “Go ahead.”

Archer blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

Adam looked at him like he was crazy. “I mean, go. We’ve got this. We don’t need six of us to dispatch these two.”

“Are you sure?” Mac asked.

“Jesus, it’s not a kidney. Consider it a belated wedding present. Get the fuck out of here.”

Archer looked to Mac, who shrugged. “Whatever you want to do, Katniss.”

Adam shook his head and wandered off.

Archer wrapped his arms around Mac. “I’m ready to go home.”

“Which home?” Mac asked, hugging him close.

“Our cozy military installation in the desert,” Archer answered. “We’ve got a shit ton of work to do.”

“Then let’s go home.”

Chapter 22

Mac

They spent one last night at the Terlingua ghost house before taking off, leaving the keys with Noah, who promised to make sure the house was in order before they left. They’d skipped Thomas’s jet, opting instead for a first class flight, just because they could. Because they were safe. Well, safe from hitmen.

Not safe from paparazzi.

While there had been the occasional person taking pictures of them on the flight, the walk through the Vegas airport terminal was Mac’s first real taste of life as a Mulvaney. Archer had clasped their fingers together and plowed through the reporters, ignoring their questions as he dragged Mac along behind him.

“Where’d you go on your honeymoon?”

“Will you have another real wedding like your brothers?”

“How’s married life?”

“Where will you live?”

Once they’d gotten to the limo, Thomas had called and let them know the feds had infiltrated the compound and taken the people to a holding facility until their immigration status could be sorted. He had also mentioned they were going to move on Rapke’s charity, including the home for unwed mothers.

Mac had mixed feelings about all of it. They’d rescued those people from a life of slavery and who knew what else, but now, they were detained in a camp with conditions barely better than the stalls they’d found them in. All for what? To be dumped back in their country in worse shape than when they’d left?

“Stop thinking so hard,” Archer said. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

“I know,” Mac promised. “I do.”

Archer picked up Mac’s arm and slid beneath it, placing his head on his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that. He’d done it that night in the parking lot of the strip club. It was a weirdly sweet gesture that sent a lightning bolt through Mac’s heart every time he did it.

“Are you happy?”

Archer froze. “What?”

Mac tried and failed to hide his smile. “Are you happy? Like, right now. Are you happy? With me? Like this?”

Archer relaxed after a moment. “Yeah. I’m happy.” He took Mac’s hand, running his fingertips along the back. “Are you? Happy? With me? Like this?”

Mac nodded, even though Archer wasn’t looking. “Yeah, Katniss. I’ve never been so happy.”

Archer did look up at him then, studying him. “Really?”

Mac smiled. “Yeah. Really.”

“Good,” Archer said, almost to himself.

Mac’s chest tightened unbearably and he couldn’t fight the sudden urge to drag Archer closer, slanting their mouths together until they were both a little breathless. “You know, Boone’s not expecting us back until tomorrow.”

“I’m listening…” Archer said.

###

Mac collapsed, half on and half off Archer, panting. “I don’t think I can go one more round,” he said.

Archer snorted. “I don’t know why you’re so winded. I did most of the work. My thighs are on fire.”

Mac laughed. Watching Archer ride him had been sexy as hell, but in the end, Mac had put him on his back so he could drive into him the way his body demanded. He just couldn’t help himself. There was nobody sexier in the world than Archer, especially when he was naked and begging.

“We should order room service. If we go out there, we’re going to get swarmed by reporters again,” Archer said, blindly swatting the table beside him.

Mac assumed he was looking for the room service menu but made no effort to help him. He was too cum drunk to move just yet.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head. “You missed a call from your mom.”

Mac took the phone, then set it far away from him. “I’ll call her later. I can’t talk to her while naked and covered in sex sweat. It’s weird.”

“So well mannered,” Archer teased. “I’d be happy if I could just get my brothers to stop answering the phone when they’re in the middle of sex.”

Mac huffed out a laugh. “She’s probably just calling to harass me about bringing you to visit or going to start nagging me about us having a real wedding.”

“Is that something you want?” Archer asked. “A real wedding?”

Mac lifted his head enough to look at Archer, unable to stop himself from dropping a kiss on his slightly parted lips. “Is that something you want?”

“Me?” Archer asked, giving it a moment’s thought before violently shaking his head. “No. A drunken Vegas wedding married by an Elvis impersonator is exactly the kind of wedding Archer Mulvaney would have.”

“You are Archer Mulvaney. Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”

Archer sighed. “Weddings are for other people. None of my brothers had giant elaborate weddings because it’s what they wanted—well, okay, Felix wanted the elaborate wedding. Noah wants an elaborate wedding. The rest of us? It’s all window dressing. The Archer Mulvaney the world knows gets drunk and marries a stranger. It fits.”

“But what about the real Archer? The one I actually married?” Mac prodded.

“Do I seem like the type for grand declarations?” Archer asked.

Mac smiled. “Yeah, a little bit. You did come barging into my room to tell me you liked me, and you did give me a pretty heartfelt speech that night we spent under the stars.”

Archer flushed. “I thought we agreed not to bring that up again.”

Mac laughed. “No, you agreed. I said no such thing. I love you, Katniss. I don’t care who knows it. You love me, too. That’s all that matters.”

“I do,” Archer said quietly, “love you…”

Mac sighed. He knew it wouldn’t always be like this. Archer was too stubborn. Too set in his ways. The next few months would be a trial in patience as they brought their parents’ project to life. But Mac couldn’t think of any person he’d rather spend his life fighting with than Archer.

“Thank you,” he said.

Archer tipped his head up to look at him. “For what?”

That was a loaded question. Where did he start? “For rescuing me. For saving my life. For loving me. For tying yourself to me forever.”

Archer smiled. “I’m pretty sure I tied myself to you when I agreed to go upstairs with you the first night we met.”

Mac shook his head. “See and you say you’re not one for grand declarations. I think you’re pretty romantic.”

“I think you should shut up and feed me before I die of embarrassment.”

Mac shook his head. The man who once punched a foreign dignitary off a boat got all shy over one compliment. How did he get so lucky?

“Your wish is my command, Katniss.”

Epilogue

Archer

“Ow, fuck, Katniss. Do you have to be so rough?”

“Listen, you’re the one who wanted me to do this. Hold still. It’s really deep in there,” Archer said between clenched teeth, doing his best to ignore the round of giggles that ensued.

“I’m very sorry, Instructor Mac,” the boy said, his Thai accent thick.

Mac gave the boy—Gift—a reassuring smile. “It was my own fault. I’m the one who handed you the crossbow without securing it first.”

The boy’s eyes went round and he shook his head violently, his dark hair falling over his eyes in a way that made him look even younger than he already did. “No. It was me. I’m very sorry. Please, forgive me.”

Archer watched Mac’s side profile as he gave the boy another reassuring smile, rolling his eyes in his mind. His husband was still a great big, bleeding heart and these kids knew it. They led him around by the nose. He shook his head, combing his fingers through Mac’s sweaty hair briefly before remembering the task at hand. Mac sighed happily.

Payton Skinner swooped in from behind, scooping Gift off his feet before falling backwards onto the thick gym cushions, holding the boy hostage in his lap. “It’s not your fault. Nobody should be handing baby a weapon.”

Dove Blessing—her real name—sat on the stacked mats behind Payton, leaning over him to run her fingers over Gift’s chubby cheeks, delighted when he puffed them out and she could squish them. The girl was one of the most dangerous people Archer had ever met up close, yet she squealed like a toddler playing with a puppy.

Archer rolled his eyes. They’d gone into this thinking they would be training vicious killers. Monstrous assassins that would need constant supervision to keep them from snapping and unleashing their murderous impulses on an unsuspecting world. Instead, they were running a pre-school with advanced military grade weapons and tactics.

Archer should have been doing this in the infirmary—no, the physician should have been doing this in the infirmary—but Boone had decided to turn it into a teaching moment. A trench medicine quick fix triage training session. And his husband’s big, dumb ass had agreed to it without batting a single ginger lash.

Which was how they came to be sitting in a semicircle, Mac’s pod of assassins and handlers watching as Archer carefully removed the steel arrowhead from the soft meat of his husband’s shoulder.

As far as injuries went, it was barely a scratch. Had it been one of the larger crossbows, Archer would be planning a funeral right now. And had it been any other student, Archer might have pulled the arrow from Mac and plunged it directly into their neck. But Gift was unlike the others, so much so the difference was startling. To everyone.

To the outside world, the Watch was simply a global think tank, a sort of postgraduate school for children of the elite—the one percenters and the children of diplomats, politicians, and other powerful people. But inside, it was very much a school. A school with only two possible tracks and the student’s path was chosen before they even knew they were eligible.

Molly and Thomas realized early into the creation of the curriculum that simply training psychopaths to be assassins wasn’t enough. They had to train the next generation of handlers to run those assassins. Finding those students had been far more work than anticipated and had fallen to both Boone and Mac.

Gift was training to be a handler. But, unlike the others, he hadn’t earned his spot. He wasn’t chosen based on rigorous course work, scores on diplomatic testing, or even something as mundane as GPA. No, Gift was there at the behest of one of Kendrick’s mandatory hires, Park Chen, who even now stood fuming in the doorway, glaring at Mac from a distance as if he was the one who’d shot Gift and not the other way around.

Archer had no idea what the history was between the two, but Park spent most of his day snarling like a junkyard dog at anybody who so much as looked at the boy as anything but a porcelain doll.

Archer had protested allowing the boy to enter the program louder than anybody. Just looking at the sweet-faced kid was enough to give him a toothache. It was like dropping a baby lamb into the center of ravenous wolves.

But Archer had been wrong. While the handler students and their charges all got along, they tended to stick with their own. But not Gift. He’d attracted the attention of the psychopaths like they were vampires and he had fairy blood.

Payton had taken one look at him and declared the boy his property, even forcing his roommate to switch rooms so that Gift could stay with him. They’d all worried there was something between the two—Park especially—but soon, they realized it wasn’t just Payton. It was all the neurodivergent students.

Gift was aptly named. The students were all drawn to him. They played with him and coddled him and protected him like he was a child and not a twenty-one-year-old grad student. What was more, Gift let them do it and reveled in it. But Archer knew better. There was far more to that boy than any of them truly knew. And that both worried and intrigued him.

Archer dropped the metal arrowhead into the tray with a clunk, then poured sterile water on the wound. “Staples or sutures?”

“Whatever lets me put my shirt back on faster,” Mac muttered, a fine coat of sweat glistening off his bare skin. It was only then that Archer truly noticed the stares of more than a few students hungrily taking in Mac’s half-naked form.

“Staples it is,” Archer muttered.

“You guys are so cute,” Dove said with a sigh, pushing her purple hair behind her ear. “Aren’t they so cute, Morgan?” she asked the girl to her left.

“Adorable,” Morgan said drolly, not looking up from her phone.

Boone cleared his throat, giving the girls that look that told them they were being inappropriate. Dove giggled then leaned into Payton’s space, whispering, “Daddy’s mad.”

Payton gave Boone a thirsty once-over that had the man adjusting his jacket. These kids had no respect. None. They were monsters.

As soon as the last staple was placed and Mac’s bandage fixed, Boone shooed them all off to afternoon classes, leaving the two of them alone in the gym. Archer dropped a kiss on the bandage. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Better than I would be if it had gone two millimeters to the left,” Mac joked.

Archer’s pulse raced, his hand going over Mac’s heart without thought. “That’s not funny.”

Mac tipped his head back and kissed the underside of Archer’s chin. “It’s a little funny.” When Archer continued to glower at him, Mac laughed again. “Think about it. I survived three tours overseas, two hired hitmen, and then I get taken out by a stray arrow fired by a walking Kewpie doll. Your brothers would laugh themselves sick at my funeral.”

A shadow fell over them and then Archer was looking up into Park’s handsome but scowling face. “You need to be more careful.”

“Pardon?” Archer said, his voice filled with warning.

Park shoved his hands in his pockets, leveling a look at Mac as if Archer wasn’t there. “I said, you need to be more careful. Why was he handling a weapon in the first place?”

Archer’s temper surged, his hand tightening around Mac’s wrist. Mac’s palm squeezed his thigh as if reminding him he didn’t need him to fight his battles.

“Because,” Mac said patiently, “handlers ‘handle’ things. Weapons, documents, cash, whatever is needed. You know this. You were one.”

“This is why Boone didn’t want him in the program,” Archer said, earning another silencing look from his husband. “What? It’s true.”

“He’s not in the program,” Park snapped. “Not really. This is temporary until it’s safe for him to go back to Chiang Mai. You need to be more careful with him.”

Archer scoffed. “This seems like a conversation you should be having with your…whatever the kid is to you.”

“Hia,” came a soft voice from behind them.

Archer got a slight bit of satisfaction from watching the scowl slip from the man’s face, replaced by a feigned disinterest he saved just for the boy.

Park turned slightly, flicking his gaze to Gift, who blinked at him with wide doe eyes. “What did I tell you about that, Kla?” he said, voice stern but not cruel.

“P’Park,” Gift corrected softly, a gentle smile on his lips but fire blazing in his eyes. “Please, don’t be mad at Mac—Instructor Shepherd,” he corrected. “It was my fault. My finger slipped—”

“It isn’t your fault,” Park insisted, irritation creeping into his tone. “You’re the student. He’s the instructor. Now, get to class. The adults are talking.”

Gift blinked at him for a moment like he was contemplating saying something more, but then gave that same wan smile he saved just for Park, saying, “Of course, hia,” before turning and walking away.

To Mac, Park said, “Don’t let it happen again.”

When they were alone once more, Mac snickered softly. “Does he think I work for him?”

“Park thinks the entire world answers to him. It’s a level of audacity that comes from growing up rich. I speak from experience.”

Mac picked up Archer’s hand and kissed his palm. “What’s up with him and that kid?”

“My knowledge of the Thai language is gleaned almost entirely from a summer I spent in Bangkok, but I can tell you hia is somewhat common over there as an honorific. It means big brother in Chinese. Park’s father is Chinese. Park clearly knows Gift from living overseas as a diplomat.”

“I hope you’re not implying they’re brothers because if I ever looked at my brother the way Gift looks at Park, my mother would have had me locked up,” Mac said, staring after the two.

“I think it’s a respect thing, not a blood relation thing,” Archer said, no longer really caring about Park or Gift. “I’m sure you can ask Suri if you’re just dying to know the ins and outs of Thai culture. It is her job.”

Cultural studies and customs were as integral a part of the program as everything else. Suri was there to instruct the students on how to not embarrass themselves overseas regardless of where they landed. The world had vastly different customs and traditions and it was easy to offend or insult without intent. That couldn’t happen on a mission; those kinds of things made international news.

“I’m just saying, the way he says it sounds like a sex thing,” Mac said, grimacing as he attempted to put his shirt back on.

“Don’t bother. We need to get in the shower.” Mac gave a pained hiss as Archer ripped off his bandage. “This was just for show. We have to be at the airport in two hours.”

“Why exactly are we being summoned home?” Mac asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but Noah was adamant that it was an all hands on deck situation.”

Mac whistled under his breath. “This can’t be good.”

###

“Oh, fuck. Harder,” Archer whispered.

Mac’s hand fisted in his hair, pressing his cheek harder against the cold glass mirror, his other hand gripping his hip tight enough to bruise as he pounded into him in a way that made Archer’s eyes roll back. He didn’t even need to touch himself. He was already seconds away from coming without any help from his hand.

Maybe it was Mac’s near death experience or that they were finally away from the school for a while. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He just wanted more. He could feel his release building, spurred as much from Mac’s cock as the ragged words he panted into his ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” Mac said, voice raw. “I like being able to watch your face while I fuck you from behind. You’re so hot like this.”

Archer couldn’t imagine there was anything hot about his face smashed against the mirror, but watching Mac watch him was definitely doing it for him, so if that was what it took, he was full steam ahead. It wasn’t like they had any other options. Not unless the flight crew got real cool about a lot of things real quick.

“I’m gonna come,” Mac warned.

Archer took himself in hand, giving a couple of quick strokes, biting back a groan as he came hard, making a mess of the black marble sink and counter. Mac’s teeth sank into the back of his neck, a low growl falling from his lips as he filled him up.

They stayed like that, slumped over the sink for a few minutes, before Archer came to his senses. “How’s your shoulder? Did you rip your staples?”

“Nah, I’m good. Not a whole lot of room to um…maneuver, you know?” he said. “Less chance of injury.”

“You already have an injury. I just don’t want you ripping your staples. I worked hard on those,” Archer teased.

“I’m good, Katniss. I promise.”

They cleaned themselves up and tidied the bathroom before returning to their seats, ignoring the knowing looks from the flight crew. They dozed through the rest of the flight and even the car ride to the house.

They half-expected Thomas to meet them at the door given Noah’s implied urgency, but the house was deserted. It was only once they reached the war room that they found the whole family. Well, almost the whole family. There was no Cricket. No Aiden. No Thomas.

Atticus was standing, leaning against the wall, Jericho sitting in the chair closest to him. Noah was in Adam’s lap, as usual. Felix and Zane sat sandwiched between the twins. Lucas and August were in their usual seats. Expressions were…grim.

“If this is an intervention, you’re a little late,” Archer said, feeling oddly uneasy for no reason. When nobody laughed or made a joke, that feeling only intensified. “Where’s Dad?”

“Dad’s not here,” Atticus said. “Sit down.”

Archer was half tempted to tell his brother to fuck all the way off, but when Mac squeezed his hand and led him to the chair, he sat. Mac dropped down beside him, and Archer leaned closer, needing the reassuring heat of his body close by.

“What do you mean Dad’s not here?” Archer asked. “Why did we just leave work to hop on a plane if he’s not even here? Why did he summon us?”

Atticus sighed. “I summoned you. About Dad.”

Archer looked at each of his brothers in turn, waiting for just one of them to finally explain themselves, but they all simply looked shaken. “I’m not following.”

“Dad’s hiding something,” Adam said.

Archer scoffed. “Dad hides a lot of things. He’s a fucking adult.”

Noah shook his head. “No. Dad’s hiding something that affects all of us.”

When nobody elaborated, Archer’s temper finally got the better of him. “Stop being so cryptic. What is happening?”

“This,” Atticus said.

A shrill horror movie laugh cut through the loudspeaker straight down Archer’s spine, then a video appeared on the wall screen. The images came fast, almost too fast for the eye to perceive. Crime scene photos. Two small bodies. Three larger ones. Plastic bags over their heads. Coffins. An elaborate funeral. “Do they know?” a computer modulated voice asked. “Do they know what you did?”

It was elaborate. Over the top. Like a film student trying to show off their talents with a horror movie trailer. Archer would have rolled his eyes if not for the glimpses of Thomas superimposed over the gruesome images.

“What the fuck is this?” Archer asked, still staring at the screen as the crime scene photos were blown up wider and wider until Archer could make out bulging eyes and petechial hemorrhaging. Protruding tongues. Christ.

“I know. I know everything,” the voice taunted. “I know who you really are. I know what really happened. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer—”

The video cut off. They all stared at Archer in silence as if waiting for his reaction. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be feeling in this moment, but mostly, he just felt numb. “Where did you even get this?”

“Does it matter?” Avi asked.

Did it? Archer didn’t know. But part of him felt like this was a massive violation of Thomas’s privacy. Didn’t they owe him that? How had they even gotten their hands on such a thing? Archer rolled his eyes as the answer came to him. Of course.

Archer took a deep breath and let it out. “Calliope?”

“Yes?” she asked meekly from the speaker on the table.

“Does Dad know you’re showing this to us?” Archer asked.

Calliope snorted. “Of course not. Are you crazy?”

“Why are you showing this to us?” Mac asked.

Jericho scrubbed his hands over his face. “Because they’re blackmailing him.”

“How do you know that?” Mac asked.

Calliope clicked her tongue. “Because I know everything that happens in your father’s life. It’s my job.”

It was not, in fact, Calliope’s job to know everything about Thomas’s life. It was her job to find out the information they needed to eliminate targets Thomas and Noah flagged for elimination. Thomas would not welcome their interference. He especially wouldn’t like knowing Atticus had called a family meeting to talk about him behind his back.

Still, something like this was hard to ignore.

“Blackmailing him over what?” Archer asked. “I don’t understand what the video is implying.”

“It’s implying Dad’s a murderer,” Felix said.

“We’re all murderers,” Archer reminded them.

August sighed. “You really don’t get it. Do you not recognize those coffins?”

“Should I?” Archer asked, exasperated.

“Yeah, you should,” Lucas said. “That’s Thomas’s family.”

That brought Archer up short. Thomas’s family? They were Thomas’s family. Then again, once, he’d had a mom and a dad and two siblings. But there were five coffins in the video. Who was in the fifth coffin? Who was the fifth body?

It wasn’t like they didn’t all know the official story. Thomas’s family died at their lake house after a gas leak caused an explosion and a fire. The coffins had all been for show. The press had dined on the tragedy for days. The orphaned child of billionaires. They’d loved it.

Thomas refused to talk about his family. It was an unspoken rule. Archer had often suspected there was more to the story. Nobody woke up one morning and decided to start adopting a bunch of psychopathic children, especially when they were practically a child themselves. But Thomas had.

Every hero had an origin story. Archer always assumed the death of his family was Thomas’s. But it occurred to him now that every villain also had an origin story, too. So, which was Thomas? Was he both? As far as Archer was concerned, it didn’t matter either way. Thomas deserved their loyalty and their respect.

Archer looked around the table. “If he wanted help, he would have reached out to one of us.”

“Oh, he did,” Calliope said.

“What?” Archer asked reflexively.

“He did reach out to one of us,” Adam said. “He reached out to Aiden.”

“And?” Mac asked.

Atticus thudded his head against the wall twice, then finally looked at Archer. “And they’re gone.”

The End