Page 101 of Knight Moves

His personal cell phone dinged, and he went to the kitchen to retrieve it. He picked it up and read the text.

You’ve lost control. You’re going down.

Frowning, he checked the number the text had come from. It read 666-666-6666. He clenched his fist around the phone, not amused. He didn’t care what he had to do.

There was only one person going down, and it was Ethan Sinclair.

Chapter Fifty-Two

ANGEL SINCLAIR

Unfortunately, after we got back, I wasn’t allowed to go hide in my room. None of us were. It hadn’t been a test. Someone had tried to kidnap me.

We were exhaustively interviewed by Mr. Donovan and a few agents I’d never met before. When I was certain I couldn’t handle another question, Mr. Donovan called an end to the questioning. He wanted to call my mom immediately, but I begged him to wait until tomorrow, after we’d learned the results of the trials. He reluctantly agreed.

I took a shower and changed my clothes, but my head was spinning during dinner and I didn’t have much appetite. Guess I was more shaken by the incident than I had thought. The text from my father kept also playing on repeat in my head. He said he was fine and I should stop looking for him.

If he was fine, why didn’t he tell me he was my father? Why did someone want to kidnap me? Why was he in disguise at the café, and how mortified should I be that he wore makeup better than I did?

There were no answers, only more questions.

At 7:00 p.m. sharp, we filed into the gym. The mood was somber. Jax caught my eye, looking worried. I tried to shoot him back an encouraging look but was pretty sure I failed. Wally and Frankie flanked me on each side.

White Knights until the end.

All of our teachers and trainers were already in the gym, sitting side by side on a raised platform. They smiled at us, but their mood was reserved, too. Several of them stared curiously at me. I’m sure they were wondering why I’d been the target, or whether it had just been random.

After we were seated, Mr. Donovan stood behind the podium and cleared his throat. “Well, it’s certainly been a long, eventful four weeks for everyone. I want you to know that while it has happened a few times before, rarely does an entire class finish without anyone leaving. You all should be extremely proud of yourselves. You performed admirably and deserve our congratulations.”

The teachers and trainers clapped for us, and I exchanged a glance with Frankie and Wally. Frankie was smiling, but Wally looked like he was going to throw up. I just hoped that if he blew, he didn’t dump it in my lap.

“There are also other things you should be proud of,” Mr. Donovan continued. “You should know that no one has ever completed the final trial within the time limit, including adults. In fact, in the six years we’ve used this course for evaluation, not one team has evengottento the fifth station, let alone gone over the wall. Several of you could have finished within the time provided yesterday, but chose not to, which presents, in itself, an interesting development. What stood out, to me and all of the evaluators, is that you worked together better than most, if not all, of the adult teams. Congratulations.”

The teachers clapped, while we looked at each other and smiled.

Pride, satisfaction, and contentment swept through me. The trials had been hard. Harder than anything I’d ever done in my life. Slash had said they’d test me to my limits and beyond, and he hadn’t been exaggerating. But I’d risen to the occasion when I needed to, and while I hadn’t succeeded at everything, I’d given it my best. I’d made choices that were hard, complex, and emotionally draining. But they were my choices, and no matter what happened, Iwasproud of what I’d accomplished—what we’dallaccomplished.

Mr. Donovan adjusted the microphone and regarded us. “So, now comes the time to announce who is moving on to UTOP. First I want you to know how we evaluated you. While all of the candidates invited to try out for UTOP are exceptionally gifted in many areas, not everyone is suited to the life of an operative. It requires sharp intellect, creative thinking, courage, excellent observation skills, willingness to work hard, and persistence in the face of danger. That’s because an operative must spend hours of extremely difficult and complex preparation before even going on a mission, followed by a short periods of extreme, adrenaline-pumping action during the mission. That, students, is the real life of an operative.”

We were silent. The trials had taught us how frustrating and difficult it could be to figure things out and improvise while under a strict timeline. Yet we’d done well, especially now that we knew we were the only group to ever finish the course, even if it were past the time deadline.

Mr. Donovan took a minute to look purposefully at each one of us. Was I imagining it or did his gaze linger a bit longer on me? “Please remember, it doesn’t mean that you can’t work somewhere else in our intelligence agencies, if you so desire. Trust me, those doors will always be open to you.”

Wally kept shifting uncomfortably in his seat, enough that it was distracting me. “Are you okay?” I whispered to him.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Just nervous.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered back. “White Knights forever, remember?”

He blew out a breath and nodded. “I remember.”

Mr. Donovan was still speaking. “Although an operative often works alone, he or she is also an important member of a larger team. So, during your four weeks, we also looked carefully at the dynamics of your interpersonal relationships with each other and your individual personalities. How do you think? How do you process information? How quickly can you think on your feet and execute a task using only the resources you have at hand? How accurately do you grasp the complexity of a situation, and what kind of innovation do you use to get the required results? We’re not looking for students who already have all the answers or are experts in any one field…yet. Skills can be cultivated. We’re looking for potential. Basically, it came down to three things. Can we train you? Can we trust you? And can you excel in this kind of environment?”

I dared a glance at Bo and Jax, who were seated next to each other. They were staring at Mr. Donovan, completely fixated on his words. I was certain we were all playing back every single thing we’d done and said since we arrived, wondering how it would hold up in terms of the evaluation.

We were about to find out.

I gripped my hands together so hard on my lap, my knuckles turned white. Frankie reached over to hold my hand, and after a moment, Wally took the other one. Linked together, we waited to hear our fate.

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