Page 76 of Betray Me
“Then he knows everything.” The implications crash over me like ice water. “Every piece of evidence I shared with him, every plan we made, every safe house location—he’s been feeding it all back to them.”
My hands shake as I pull out more documents, finding Harper’s code name scattered throughout my father’s records. Not as an investigator building a case, but as an asset managing threats from the inside.
“He’s been playing both sides,” I realize, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “Pretending to investigate while in actuality protecting the network’s core members. The arrests, the trials—they were controlled demolitions, sacrificing the visible players to protect the real power structure.”
Max grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Belle, listen to me. If Harper’s been working for them this whole time, then yesterday’s warning—”
“Was a setup.” The words taste like poison. “He wanted us to run, to isolate ourselves. Make it easier to tie up loose ends.”
As if summoned by our conversation, the satellite phone on the table begins to ring. The number displayed makes my blood freeze: Detective Harper.
“Don’t answer,” Max says urgently.
But I need to know. Need to understand how deep this betrayal goes. I pick up the phone, putting it on speaker before accepting the call.
“Belle? Thank God you’re safe. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
His voice sounds exactly the same—concerned, paternal, trustworthy. The perfect performance from a man who’s been lying to me since the moment we met.
“Have you?” I keep my voice carefully neutral. “What’s so urgent, Detective?”
“We’ve had a breakthrough in the case. Evidence that could expose The Architect’s identity. But Belle, you need to come in immediately. There’s been a leak in the investigation—someone’s been feeding information to the remaining network members.”
The irony is so thick I nearly laugh. “A leak? How terrible. Who do you suspect?”
“I can’t discuss details over an unsecured line. But Belle, you and Max are in immediate danger. Give me your location, and I’ll send a secure extraction team.”
An extraction team. Sent by the man who’s been protecting the very people who want us dead.
“That’s very kind of you,” I say, watching Max pull out a burner phone to text someone—Erik, hopefully. “But I think we’re safer where we are.”
“Belle, you don’t understand. The Architect has resources you can’t imagine. Military contractors, black ops specialists. You can’t run from this forever.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “Running isn’t the solution. But Detective, I have to ask—in all your investigation of this network, did you ever come across the code name ‘The Guardian’?”
The silence on the other end of the line speaks volumes. When Harper finally responds, his voice has lost its paternal warmth.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“From my father’s files. The ones I kept instead of destroying, remember? Very detailed records about network assets, including law enforcement contacts.” I pause, letting the implications sink in. “Tell me, Detective Harper—or should I call you Guardian?—how long have you been working for them?”
Another silence, longer this time. When he speaks again, the mask has completely dropped.
“Longer than you’ve been alive, Belle. Your parents were minor players in a game that spans generations. Did you really think testifying against them would end this?”
The casual admission hits like a physical blow. “You bastard. I trusted you.”
“And that trust served its purpose. You led us to Luna Queen, helped us identify every ally, every resource, every federal safe house. The investigation was never about justice, Belle. It was about inventory management.”
Max grabs the phone, his voice deadly calm. “What do you want?”
“Simple. Belle surrenders herself for processing, and everyone else gets to live more or less. Luna, Erik, David Stone—they’ll be left alone as long as Belle fulfills her obligations.”
“What obligations?” I snap.
“The ritual was interrupted. The punishment awaits. The debt remains. Your parents tried to protect you by offering substitutes, but their sacrifice only delayed the inevitable.” Harper’s voice takes on an almost ceremonial quality. “The circle must be closed, Belle. The Architect’s will must be done.”
“Go to hell,” I breathe.
