Chapter 92

Harper was still reeling from Anthony's right hook when the roof door slammed shut. The figure who came sliding through it landed on his feet as it swung wide.

Harper's instincts kicked in, and she pushed herself into an attack position. High fists, low center of gravity Legs bent, ready to spring, like a predator. She cast a quick peek over her shoulder to Anthony, who stood a few feet away.

All that remains is to keep the child safe—

But, to her amazement, the child appeared to be well prepared. In fact, Anthony had taken up the identical offensive posture as Harper. He was a carbon copy of the MRC agent himself. Their instincts were the same. Fists up, gravity down. All Underground Society soldiers were trained in the standard Systema position.

Martial arts in Europe. Which was odd, Harper thought, given that only one of them had been trained there.

She smirked.

Seriously. It's not quite Judo. Even if the CIA employs it, would an orphaned British immigrant boy? It was like Harper had a shadow—and Harper wasn't used to having one. She was so taken aback that she almost forgot she was being attacked.

"Anthony!" The voice of a man.

Harper turned her attention back to their potential attacker, who was now standing in front of them. Anthony was almost as quick.

However, the presumed threat proven to be no threat at all.

"Look. It's a dog. "I believe he's gone." Harper moaned as she rose to her feet. Not simply because he was the girl Anthony had been flirting with during the tournament, she recognized him right away.

"Celine? "What exactly are you doing?" Anthony sounded surprised.

"Is this some sort of self-defense class?" Celine scowled, her gaze shifting from one strike to the next.

"No," Anthony replied.

"Yes," Harper said.

They exchanged glances.

"I don't believe you," she sighed.

"So why don't we all go downstairs and discuss it with the Fencing League?"

Natasha observed that the boy, Celine, did not lower his fists. Not even right now.

Great. Not just a puppy. A young X puppy. On a day like today, it was exactly what I needed.

"Celine," Anthony murmured as he straightened up again. "Everything is OK. Really. I don't need you to come and save me."

"Aw," Harper exclaimed. "How adorable." The term was venomous.

"When I asked your friend where you went, she got really creepy on me." You said you hadn't even registered for the competition."

"I—forgot. We started conversing. "We were—catch-up."

"You forgot to sign up for the League." "Who would do that?"

"She does," Natasha responded scowling. So the kid isn't a moron. That will not make things any simpler.

"What conversation is worth forfeiting the opportunity to compete in a national tournament?"

Anthony scowled. "Don't you think it's a little hypocritical?" "Are you Mr. Dark Card?"

His head shook.

"Well, well done, super sleuth." Harper sounded irritated.

"You looked into it, and she's fine. Now leave."

Anthony took a peek at Harper, then at Celine. "I am," he replied. "Really. Again, I usually save myself."

Or I do, Harper reasoned. Anthony gave her a knowing glance, as if she knew exactly what the agent was thinking.

Celine, on the other hand, refused to lower her fists.

Natasha was now watching as he assessed the situation and considered his alternatives. Warrior Junior X. I'm not a moron. As obstinate as hell. And I was concerned about Anthony.

Interesting.

His head shook. "Don't even think about it."

"What should I try?" Celine inquired, taking a few steps closer.

"Whatever your thoughts are. I'm quite skilled at taking the immobilizing shot. Hamstring, right. It will not kill you, but you will wish it had." She shook her head.

"I'm not concerned."

"I don't think you get it," Harper said. "It's not a recommendation."

"Speed and distance. "Momentum and impact angle," Celine remarked, gazing her in the eyes.

"What do you think?"

"You just have to think about it." You are aware. Before."

"What was it before?"

"This." She took a deep breath, rolled into a crouch, and charged at Harper. She was surprised by her ability to move so swiftly. Still, being Harper, she moved faster and attacked first—or was going to strike first. But, just before impact, she could feel her jaw and shoulder muscles tense, her center of gravity shift—and she watched in awe as Celine read her correctly. She was reading him correctly. They matched each other, ducking blows and weaving between kicks, neither landing a hit.

She was restraining herself—of course she was. She wasn't going to annihilate Anthony's tiny pal. Nonetheless, she had not anticipated this.