Legendary // H.S

72.

'When real stays real

And the fakes start to disappear

Your enemy's the closest friend you'll ever make'

*

'George, you're the mole.'

It doesn't feel right to make the accusation, even with the evidence presented to me, because to finally admit it will mean ending any good that remained between us. All these months, all the conversations and laughs and quiet moments; everything was a lie. Whatever he did, it came with an ulterior motive, and Harry and I were the unwilling victims of this saga.

This shouldn't have happened. It wasn't written in our story to be betrayed and ripped apart like this. It wasn't in anyone's narrative to be killed or hunted or destroyed by someone they trusted. Someone that had always pleaded his innocence, convinced us all of it, but had been working against us from the start.

George, the person I have considered one of my closest friends over these months, the person I saw as a brother. He is the traitor.

There are so many possibilities about how or why this could have happened. But it doesn't matter, because whether he walked into this by choice or not, he still worked against us. Our secrets have been sold to a man that seeks to hurt us, someone that has a vendetta based on the relationship he held with our parents, and now we have no way out. All along, we've been playing into Hugo's hands without even realising. We gave him everything he wanted.

He really does have eyes everywhere.

Hugo had been saying it since the start, but only recently did we start to pay attention, and now it's too late. If only we listened, if only we acted upon earlier suspicions. Harry always considered someone betraying him when he stole from Hugo, and even though Hugo's anger was never about the money, the team should have started searching for leaks then.

But that's the problem. Unless you know something is actually broken, unless you have proof of cracks in its surface and chips in the exterior, you'll never be able to fix it.

I wonder how long this has been going on, and whether he'll even indulge the details, but he's falling apart in front of me. He knows he's been caught, and he's currently weighing up his options. I'm not scared of George; I never have been. Perhaps I should be now after discovering this vital piece of information, but I know his limits. I know that I could beat him in a fight if it came to it and escape this room back to the safety of my love.

I stand slowly to my feet, some of the pages still in my hands. My eyes remain on the words littered across them, all the secrets and stories I told him in confidence. Pictures of memories that didn't include him, yet somehow, he was there. 'You're the one that's been working for Hugo.' My voice shakes more than I intended it to, but as I look towards him I notice he's more rattled than I am.

Some stray tears have fallen down his cheeks, their lines reflecting in the harsh overhanging lights. His eyes are bloodshot, only swelling more when he rubs at them to try and disguise the emotion he's displaying, but I've caught him red handed. I suppose, given the amount of blood on his hands as a result of his actions, I'd eventually see the stains on his pale skin and connect the dots.

'You're a traitor,' I accuse, my eyebrows furrowed tightly in a scowl.

In many ways, I'm not saying these words aloud to announce that I've figured it out, but to confirm it to myself. Despite the discovery, a part of my brain still wants to deny it. The George I've known has been innocent and sweet, a man with such a lust for life and knowledge. I don't see him now. When I look at him, I only see the faces of those we've lost, hear the screams of pain and the cries for help. I can smell the blood of Harry when he was left to die on the street. I can taste the my tears whenever the hunt has become too much. I can feel the pain in my arm when I got shot, too. Everything replays, without any indication of how to stop it.