Page 79 of Betray Me
“Each other.” I open my eyes, meeting Max’s gaze across the table. “Luna, you know the Queen network’s structure better than anyone. I have files on the Gallagher operations. Max has financial connections that could help us track money flows. And thanks to David, Erik has enough legal experience to know how to build a case that will stick.”
“You’re talking about going on offense,” Erik says, and I can hear the wheels turning in his mind. “Gathering enough evidence to expose the entire network before they can eliminate us.”
“More than that.” My voice grows stronger as the plan takes shape. “We’re going to use their tactics against them. They’ve been hunting us by monitoring our communications, trackingour movements, using law enforcement assets to stay ahead of us. So we feed them exactly what they expect to see while building our real operation in the shadows.”
Luna’s laugh has an edge that reminds me of the girl who once turned my own psychological warfare against me at Shark Bay. “You want to run a disinformation campaign.”
“I want to run the same kind of operation they’ve been running on us. Let Harper and his handlers think we’re panicking, making desperate moves, while we systematically document every name, every connection, every crime that’s been covered up.”
Max nods slowly, his expression shifting from exhausted worry to something sharper. “Create parallel evidence streams. One visible to their surveillance, one completely hidden. Make them think they know our plans while we execute something entirely different.”
“Exactly.” I lean forward, energy building in my chest for the first time since Harper’s betrayal. “But we need to coordinate. Share information, resources, create redundant systems so if one of us is compromised, the others can continue.”
“Belle.” Luna’s voice carries a warning I recognize from our Shark Bay days. “What you’re describing—it’s essentially what our families did. Using secrets, surveillance, and manipulation to control outcomes. Are you sure this is the path you want to go down?”
The question hits harder than it should, forcing me to confront the uncomfortable parallel between my proposed strategy and everything I’ve spent months trying to escape. Butthe alternative—hiding in abandoned buildings while people I care about die—is worse than any moral complexity.
“The difference is our motivation,” I say finally. “Our families used these tactics to exploit and control. We’re using them to expose and stop the very system they created. Sometimes you have to become what you’re fighting to win the war.”
Silence stretches across the connection, broken only by the crackle of static and the wind outside our temporary shelter. I can feel the weight of decision pressing down on all of us, the moment when we choose between safety and justice, between hiding and hunting.
“I’m in,” Luna says first, her voice carrying the steel that once made her the most dangerous student at Shark Bay University. “But Belle, if we do this, we do it right. No half measures, no backing down when things get ugly.”
“Agreed. Erik?”
“David would want us to fight back.” His voice is thick with emotion, but determined. “And I have his resources that they don’t know about. Legal contacts who operate outside official channels, investigative journalists who specialize in exposing corruption.”
Max squeezes my hand. “I’m with you. All the way.”
The alliance crystallizes in that moment, binding us together not through shared trauma but through shared purpose. We’re no longer just victims running from our past, but active participants in writing our own ending.
“Okay,” I say, pulling out a notebook to begin documenting our strategy. “Here’s what we know: The Architect is the real power behind the network. Harper is their law enforcement asset. There are multiple active members still operating under protection. And they want me specifically for some kind of ritual completion.”
“Why you specifically?” Erik asks. “If Luna was the original target—”
“Because I wore a wire to bring them down,” I realize aloud. “In their system, that level of betrayal requires special punishment. It’s not enough to just eliminate me—they need to make an example.”
“Which gives us leverage,” Max points out. “If they want you alive for their ritual, they can’t just have us killed outright. They need to capture you specifically.”
“That’s a thin line to walk,” Luna warns. “Assuming they’ll stick to their own rules instead of adapting when things don’t go according to plan.”
She’s right, but it’s the only advantage we have. I flip to a fresh page in the notebook, beginning to sketch out our operational structure.
“Luna and Erik, you focus on documenting the Queen network’s remaining connections. Use the files your mother had, cross-reference with current news, identify who’s still active. Max and I will work the financial angle, trace money flows from my father’s records to current operations.”
“What about Harper?” Erik asks. “He’s expecting some kind of response to his ultimatum.”
I smile, and I know it’s not a pleasant expression. “We give him exactly what he expects. Panicked communications, desperate attempts to negotiate, evidence that we’re falling apart under pressure. Let him think his psychological warfare is working while we build our real case.”
“And David?” Luna’s voice is soft. “We can’t just leave him vulnerable while we play spy games.”
“Erik, can you talk to his boss and arrange private security for him? People outside official channels who won’t report back to Harper?”
“Already working on it. I also have contacts from my father’s business who specialize in executive protection.”
The conversation continues for another hour, filling in details, establishing communication protocols, creating the framework for what might be the most dangerous operation any of us have ever attempted. When we finally end the call, I feel simultaneously exhausted and energized, drained by the magnitude of what we’re planning but galvanized by having a concrete strategy instead of just running blindly.
Max closes his laptop, the sudden absence of screen light making the hunting lodge feel even more isolated. “Think it’ll work?”
