A Traitor To Memory Novels & Stories

I know he’s the right person to fill that void for Freya, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone again. I trusted Anton when we were younger, but every time I called him, he was at a club or party where tons of women were in the background, causing me to worry, so I broke up with him. He swears he was faithful to me the entire time, and I want to believe him, but there’s a voice in the back of my mind that doubts him. I married Lincoln, believing that he truly loved me and would be faithful, only to find out how foolish I was.

TITLE Tainted Memories AUTHOR Honesty577 . This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination. . COPYRIGHT All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the author except for use of quotations in a book review. If you want this book to be placed on your platform please see contact information on the author page. . DEDICATION This book is dedicated to my many loyal readers, my creator and my ancestors.

It felt as if my soul were being ripped out through the top of my head. Even then, the crowd only grew louder. Rotten vegetables and eggs struck the platform. Someone shouted, "Traitor! Parasite! Rot in hell!" Behind me, the giant screen flickered. My memories began to rewind. The first scene appeared before everyone. It was the third day after Lily's death. I was dragged to the front of her memorial, where everyone demanded the attacker's name. They spat on me. They threw stones. Hands clamped around my arms, and someone yanked my hair hard enough to tear it loose.

He remembered living in a web of lies for the past three months, unwilling to trust his own sister. If only he had asked one more question, if only he had bothered to verify the video's authenticity, could Wren have been spared this agony? Kian stared at the deep gash on the corpse's wrist, torn by a silver hook, and a chill went through him. Although he hadn't felt a thing through the Mate Bond, the irrefutable evidence of her death sent a delayed, tearing agony ripping through him. "She... she was a traitor, wasn't she? Why would she suffer the punishment meant for a pack member who died protecting a secret?"

"You must love her so much..." "I want to die," he interrupted, still with his hands on his face. "I saw her today..." He sniffed. "She was so happy, smiling with someone else. That killed every fiber of my being," he recounted, and the woman noticed how the few people in the train car couldn't help but listen, their faces reflecting sadness at what he was saying. "She looked at me so neutrally, so hostile," he wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve, struggling to speak. "... But I deserve it," he gasped. "I played the arrogant one, and when everything came out, everything went to hell. I played as if everyone fell for me, so why not her?" He laughed bitterly. "I did to her what I thought I wo

She started taking small steps towards me which was irritating me. " I don't have all the time in the world for you, Ms. Taylor. Walk fast." I noticed her flinch at my sudden rise in voice . Walking hurriedly, she took a seat opposite me. I leaned back on my chair , keeping my eyes fixed on her. Looking at her face made me visualise everything. The memories were as fresh as we're from yesterday. The face which once was my world, I always wanted to see the beautiful smile on her face but she crushed those feelings. She threw whatever we had in flames. Now I want nothing more than to see pain in her face. In the last three years , each time she came to my mind, her betrayal overpowered our

Out of habit, I push to enter her mind and I'm met with unrelenting resistance. She, on the other hand, takes advantage of the new link between us and begins racing through my mind, like a wolf running through the forest. I’m almost too slow to slam the door on the parts of my mind I don’t want her in; the loss of the Brenners, Theo, Samara, the overwhelming grief that still haunts me to this day. One by one, I slam those doors shut just as she’s about to blast through the memories.

It was clean. He paused then, and the room paled at whatever private memory had crossed his face. For a second, the veneer cracked, revealing a man who remembered not only victories but a particular humiliation: a time when an ally had turned, and he had been left to watch his campaign implode. He had not forgiven that betrayal. He had swallowed it; it had become the marrow of him. Now, he would make them swallow his retaliation.

The memory wasn’t passive now — it pulled Sarai deeper, forcing her to feel his thoughts, his pain, his rage. He was remembering the moment it happened. The moment he touched her stomach. The moment her unborn child destroyed him. He screamed in the memory — not from pain, but from realization. “The prophecy… it’s real… The child is real…” His voice rattled in Sarai’s skull like a chain being dragged across steel. Aunt Dee grabbed Sarai’s shoulders. “Sarai, break the connection—” “I can’t!” Sarai choked. The memory continued. The Traitor reached a cavern where Underworld soldiers hovered in the shadows. When they turned and saw him alive, they recoiled.

"But the guards — you need to remember, Elara. Whatever you can. Faces, names, anything. The traitor may be one of those guards." She looked at me steadily. The word had landed — traitor — and she wasn't flinching from it, which meant she'd already been moving toward the same conclusion and hadn't quite let herself arrive. "I'll try," she said. "I'll go through everything I remember." "Think carefully," I said. "Take your time with it. Don't reach for it — let it come." She nodded once. I looked at her hands — the burns still visible, still livid at the centers. Sefa's words moved through me again. You used yourself as a bridge. The cost would be higher than burns.