Page 28 of Betray Me
Chapter 11: The Price of Protection
Now
The campus security office sits in the basement of Harrington Hall, a brutalist concrete structure that feels more like a bunker than an administrative building. At 2 AM, the corridors are empty except for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below. I’ve spent four days studying the guard rotations, memorizing shift changes, identifying weaknesses in their surveillance system.
Tonight, Jaden Winkle is on duty—a twenty-six-year-old graduate student who supplements his income with overnight security shifts. I’ve watched him for weeks, cataloging his habits: how he takes smoke breaks every hour on the dot, how he scrolls through dating apps when he thinks no one’s looking, how his eyes linger on my legs when I pass him in the dining hall.
I dress carefully for tonight’s mission—a short black skirt that hugs my curves, a silk blouse that clings in all the right places, heels that click against marble floors with predatory precision. The same tools I’ve used since childhood, weapons disguised as feminine appeal. Some habits are harder to break than survival instincts.
My reflection in the hallway mirror shows a stranger—Belle Gallagher, master manipulator, about to seduce her way into classified files. For a moment, I feel sick at how easily I slip back into this role. But desperation makes monsters of us all, and I need those files more than I need my dignity.
Jaden looks up from his desk as I enter, his eyes widening with surprise and something else—hunger. It’s always hunger with men like him, barely concealed beneath a thin veneer of professionalism.
“Miss Gallagher?” He straightens in his chair, attempting to look official. “It’s pretty late. Is everything okay?”
I let my voice catch slightly, projecting vulnerability like perfume into the air. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Jaden. I couldn’t sleep, and I was hoping… I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think someone’s been following me.”
His expression shifts immediately to concern mixed with opportunity. Hero complex—another weakness I’ve learned to exploit. “Following you? Have you reported this to the administration?”
“I tried, but they think I’m being paranoid because of… well, you know.” I gesture vaguely, letting him fill in the blanks about my family’s situation. “I was hoping maybe you could check the security footage? Just to put my mind at ease?”
Jaden glances toward the bank of monitors displaying feeds from across campus. Protocol clearly prohibits showing students surveillance footage, but I can see him wavering, male ego warring with regulations.
“I shouldn’t really…” he starts, but I step closer, close enough that my perfume mingles with his cologne—something cheap and cloying that makes my nose itch.
“Please, Jaden. I don’t know who else to ask.” I let my fingers brush his arm, a featherlight touch that makes him swallow hard. “I’d be so grateful.”
The word ‘grateful’ hangs between us, loaded with implication. His pupils dilate slightly, and I know I have him. It’s almost too easy—these men who think they’re predators, never realizing they’re the prey.
“Well… I suppose I could take a quick look,” he says, moving to one of the monitors. “Which areas were you concerned about?”
I lean over his shoulder, close enough that my breath tickles his ear. “The library, maybe? And the administration building. That’s where I’ve felt most… watched.”
His hands tremble slightly on the keyboard as he pulls up the feeds. The screens flicker between different camera angles, showing empty corridors and darkened classrooms. I study each frame carefully, but I’m not really looking for a stalker. I’m memorizing the security setup, identifying blind spots, calculating how long I’ll need to access the physical files.
“I don’t see anyone suspicious,” Jaden says, his voice rough. “But I could… I could keep an extra eye out for you. Make sure you get back to your dorm safely.”
“You’re so sweet.” I let my hand rest on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I feel so much safer knowing you’re looking out for me.”
This is the crucial moment—the transition from professional concern to personal interest. I’ve done this dance a hundred times, each step choreographed by years of necessity. But tonight feels different. Tonight, I’m choosing this manipulation, using it as a tool rather than being forced into it by my father’s demands.
The distinction should make me feel empowered. Instead, it makes me feel dirty.
“Belle,” Jaden says, turning his chair to face me. Our faces are inches apart now, and I can smell coffee on his breath mixed with the lingering scent of cigarettes. “I want you to know that whatever happens with your family’s situation… I don’t judge you. You’re not responsible for their actions.”
The kindness in his voice almost breaks my resolve. Almost. But I think of David Stone’s investigation, of the police sketch that looks like my face, of the gaps in my memory that might hide unspeakable truths. I need those files more than Jaden needs his innocence.
“That means more to me than you know,” I whisper, letting vulnerability creep into my voice. It’s not entirely false—there’s something seductive about being seen as separate from my family’s crimes, even if it’s an illusion I’m carefully constructing.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing across my skin with surprising gentleness. For a moment, I let myself lean into the touch, remembering what it feels like to be touched without calculation or pain. But then his eyes drop to my lips, and I see the shift—concern transforming into desire.
“I shouldn’t,” he murmurs, but he’s already leaning closer.
“Sometimes what we shouldn’t do is exactly what we need,” I breathe against his mouth.
His kiss feels warm and clean, nothing like the calculated seduction I perform. It stirs something deep in my chest—something close to hope. Maybe there are men who can want me without using me.
Maybe one day, I’ll find a man worthy of that kind of trust.
