A Traitor To Memory Novels & Stories

Someone had systematically dismantled his mind, rewriting his choices until he was nothing more than a meat-suit executing a script he couldn't fight. "Theo, look at him," I gasped, stepping back as the horror of the discovery washed over me. "He didn't plan this. Someone altered his mind. They completely erased his memories." "He's a traitor!" Theo roared, his voice fracturing into a guttural wolf's growl. "The laws of the Laurent Pack are absolute. The penalty for sabotage during an active campaign is death. If I show him mercy, the alliance falls apart before dawn!" "And if you execute him, you are killing a puppet while the puppeteer laughs in the dark," I countered, my silver eyes locki

A lie. That’s all it took. They locked me in the clan’s Sunken Church. For five years, the sun-torture burned away every last scrap of my pureblood pride. But when my sentence ended, I walked out and straight back into the same nightmare. My mate looks at me like I’m filth. Disgusting trash. My once-best friend is curled in his arms. She’s wearing my dead mother’s robes. She has stolen my life. Even my own son glares at me with pure hate. He says a traitor like me should have died in that cage. They all call me a monster. The one who murdered her own parents. A disgrace to the pureblood name. But I remember the truth. This time, I won’t go silently into silver chains. I won’t let them break

“A strike so visible that he can't deny it. If Arturo wants me in the open, then that’s exactly where I’ll fight him.” That night, while the safehouse settled into an uneasy silence, I stood at the window, staring at the flickering city lights far away. Somewhere out there, posters with my name flapped in the wind, branding me a traitor. But traitors are remembered. I pressed my palm against the cold glass. “You’ll regret underestimating me, Father,” I whispered. “For every wall you build, I’ll find the crack. For every lie you spread, I’ll tear it down with the truth.”

Starting with the women we’ve bled to protect. One word kept showing up, over and over again. Scribbled in the margins beside network maps and encrypted codes: Предатель. Predátel. Meaning the Traitor. That’s what they called the Camorra defector. Feeding her intel. The traitor has been unlocking doors we thought were sealed. We don’t know who he is. Not yet. But we’re sure of one thing, he’s not working alone. Some of our men have started to flip. Quietly and subtly.

A traitor? Conor instantly lost his temper as he shot up and stomped towards the door. “I’m the fucking traitor?! They killed my son! And I have no idea if Karen will even make it out of here alive but I’m the traitor?! I don’t give a fuck if you’re the king! How fucking dare, you father!!” Conor screamed through the door. Hell fucking no! There’s no way I’m a traitor! He deserved that! He deserves so much worse!

Without hesitation, they obeyed. The first punch landed hard against the traitor’s ribs, making him collapse forward with a gasp. Another followed, then another. Each hit was precise, calculated. I picked up my fork again and resumed eating, watching as the man groaned in pain. "Traitors," I continued, cutting into my steak, "are like diseased dogs. They bite the hand that feeds them, thinking they are clever. But they always end up like this—broken, begging, regretting."

But the niggling doubt was driving me mad. “Poor little clone,” Felicia whispered into my mind, “do you really think he'll still love you when he knows what you are?” “Yes!” I snapped. “You don't know him. He doesn't care about that.” “Oh don't I?" she laughed derisively. “Gregor, the last of the keepers, failed assassin, and traitor to the crown.” “Why do you call him a traitor?” I asked. “He has done nothing but work to put the rightful heir back on the Lobotian throne.”

I gasped for air, blood bubbling from my mouth, a strange, broken smile appearing on my face. "Yes... I killed her... I was jealous of her... Alexander, kill me... avenge her... hurry..." I provoked him desperately. "I hated her perfection... I hated that you loved her..." I wanted him to shoot. If I died, the secret would be buried forever. Alexander’s hand shook. The betrayal was eating him alive. He slowly raised his gun, the muzzle pressing against the center of my forehead. "Then go to hell." His finger tightened on the trigger. "Wait! Don! Stop!" The lead technician, who had crawled back to the console, suddenly screamed, his voice cracking with terror. "Don't shoot! That memory is fak

I ask bitterly. "He was one of your own." "No, he wasn't," I say sternly. "Not in the end." No one who betrays me can be called anything but a traitor. I grimace, making fists at my sides. I'm fueled by the rush that comes with killing. It mutes the regret that gnaws at me for ending the life of someone I thought would stand by me until the end. The war tests all of us.

The only thing I knew was that it wasn’t being held at The Tower since it required a car. It would be cruel to press them for more. They couldn't share, no matter how badly they wanted to. It didn't matter where I went or how carefree I pretended to be; I was still me. I was the daughter of the Southern Illyrian Alpha. The daughter of a thief, liar, and murderer. He managed to hide all of it from me but then again, I did as he told me years ago, I always obeyed, and I never tried to leave. I knew what would happen to me or, more importantly, what would happen to the ones I cared about if I ever tried.