Chapter 96: Last Knife
Chapter 96: Last Knife
Victor Hale had always believed in one unbreakable rule, never fall alone.
Even in handcuffs, even behind layers of security and law enforcement, he embodied that principle. The holding room was stark, steel table, muted lights, a single camera blinking red in the corner. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and authority. Victor sat calmly, cuffs resting on the table like a decorative piece rather than restraints. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if he were waiting for a delayed flight rather than the collapse of an empire he had spent decades building.
Across from him, Nathaniel stood rigid, arms folded, eyes cold and calculating. Every inch of his body radiated control, patience, and the kind of anger that simmered beneath the surface.
“You wanted to talk,” Nathaniel said finally, voice low but cutting. “Make it worth the oxygen.”
Victor smiled, a slow curve of lips that didn’t reach his eyes. “I assume Bella is watching?”
“She doesn’t need to hear your poison,” Nathaniel said sharply.
“Oh, but she should,” Victor replied softly, voice smooth as silk, carrying a weight Nathaniel couldn’t ignore. “Because this… this is about family.”
The word hit like a blade. Sharp, precise, and heavy.
Nathaniel didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. “Speak.”
Victor leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the steel table, hands clasped loosely. “You’ve been hunting monsters so long,” he said, eyes glinting, “you forgot to look at the woman who raised one.”
Silence filled the room like a living thing.
“Elena,” Victor continued, voice low, controlled, almost tender. “Your precious, fragile mother. The woman you think finally grew a conscience.”
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, muscles coiling. “Don’t.”
Victor’s eyes gleamed. “She was never trying to save Bella. She was trying to save herself.”
Meanwhile, Bella sat beside Marcus in the command room, watching the live feed on a secure screen. Her stomach twisted as Victor spoke her name as though it belonged to him, as though he had a claim over her life, her choices, her very presence. She felt a cold weight pressing against her chest.
Marcus reached for her hand instinctively. She squeezed back, nails digging into his palm. Not with fear, but with fire.
Victor’s voice continued over the secure audio.
“Elena came to me three weeks ago,” he said, almost casually, “begging, actually. She knew the walls were closing in. She offered me something better than loyalty.”
Nathaniel’s pulse hammered in his throat. “You’re lying.”
Victor laughed quietly, almost soft enough to be mistaken for amusement. “I wish I were.”
He nodded toward a folder slid across the table by an agent, a folder he himself had requested.
“Inside,” Victor said, “are recordings. Bank transfers. Emails sent from Elena’s private account. She leaked your strategies, Bella’s movements, Clara’s safe houses.”
Bella gasped softly, fingers gripping the edge of the chair.
Marcus swore under his breath, tense and low, barely audible.
“She sold you out,” Victor continued, voice cutting like a scalpel, “piece by piece. And when she realized I was losing? She tried to sell me out too.”
Nathaniel’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes locked on the folder. He opened it. Every page felt like a cut, a betrayal freshly applied.
Elena’s voice recordings played through the room, static carrying her tone. Pleading, calculating, desperate.
“I’ll give you everything,” her voice said shakily through the speaker. “Just don’t let them come for me.”
Bella’s hand flew to her mouth, trying to hold back the surge of rage and disbelief.
Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly, a sharp inhale, then opened them again, his stare hard as steel. “Why reveal this now?”
Victor leaned back, lips curving into a slow, controlled smile. “Because betrayal deserves an audience.”
He paused, then added, softer, almost intimate. “And because I don’t believe in mercy.”
Within minutes, the room erupted into controlled chaos. Agents moved with precision, calls were made, orders issued. Every second counted.
“Ms Elena is now a person of interest,” one officer said sharply. “We have probable cause.”
Bella rose abruptly from her chair. “Where is she?” Her voice trembled with fury.
“Her residence,” Marcus replied, already pulling up surveillance feeds. “She hasn’t left.”
Bella’s eyes narrowed, a storm of betrayal and determination coiling inside her. “She looked me in the eye.”
Nathaniel turned from Victor, his expression carved from stone. “She won’t do it again.”
Victor’s smile lingered, satisfaction flickering across his face like a candle flame in the dark.
“Like I said,” he murmured to no one in particular, “never fall alone.”
Elena was packing when the knock came.
She froze, hands hovering over an open suitcase, the fabric of her carefully planned escape spilling onto the floor. Clothes lay scattered, evidence of panic disguised as preparation.
She knew. Somehow, instinct always told her when the end was near.
“Elena.” a voice called through the door. “Open up.”
Her knees weakened. She straightened slowly, smoothing her hair as though the reflection in the mirror still mattered.
When she opened the door, federal agents filled the hallway, eyes sharp, movements precise.
She smiled faintly, almost mockingly. “I was wondering how long it would take.”
“Ma’am,” the lead agent said, voice clipped, “you’re being detained for questioning in connection with obstruction, conspiracy, and multiple counts of fraud.”
Elena didn’t argue. She allowed the cuffs to click around her wrists, feeling the metal bite, and almost savoring the inevitability.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, one final notification. A live news alert:
“VICTOR HALE REVEALS CO-CONSPIRATOR: ELENA”
Her breath hitched, lips pressing together in a line of disbelief and dawning terror.
At the precinct, Bella watched Elena being escorted in, head bowed, hands restrained. This was the woman who had whispered warnings, who had cried, who had claimed fear. And now she stood exposed, no masks, no pretense.
Bella felt something inside her harden not into hatred, but clarity.
Elena was brought into the interrogation room. Nathaniel stood outside the glass, arms rigid at his sides, tension visible in every line of his body.
“You don’t have to watch,” Bella said quietly.
“Yes,” he replied, voice low, quiet, but unwavering. “I do.”
Inside, Elena looked up and saw Bella through the glass. For a heartbeat, shsme and regret crossed her face. A flicker of fear.
“I never meant to hurt you,” Elena said weakly, voice quivering. If Bella could hear her, it was a confession.
Bella didn’t respond. She simply watched. Eyes steady. Heart steady. Mind clear.
The agent slid a thick file across the table toward Elena. “Your cooperation could reduce sentencing.”
Elena laughed hollowly, a sound with no warmth. “Cooperation?” She shook her head slowly. “Victor already made sure I burn. Everything I touch… turns to ash.”
She lifted her eyes toward the camera, meeting the gaze of an invisible audience, a final defiance. “He always does,” she said softly, almost a whisper but it carried the weight of decades of manipulation and fear.
Nathaniel turned away, jaw clenched until it ached, hands tightening at his sides.
Victor had taken his last knife and buried it in Elena’s back.
As the cell door closed on Elena, the
final illusion shattered.
The web of lies, manipulation, and betrayal that had been spun over years now lay exposed, raw, and dangerous.