A Traitor To Memory Novels & Stories

“You coulda stopped her! If you knew and you didn’t stop her, you’re as guilty as she is! You’re a traitor to your own kind!” “Traitor!” came yet another hoarse, pained voice. “How could you?!” Now the shouts were all around him. “Traitor!!!” “TRAITOR!!!”

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 said sadly, recalling how hurt I had been the night of our big talk. “I would have won you over again eventually” he said with a cocky grin, “but I’m glad you convinced me to do this” “What made you change your mind?” I asked. “I have wanted you since you started working for me, I tried to get you out of my system because I knew you’d eventually want children and marriage and all the things I didn’t think I was capable of giving you. I thought I’d get over you or that you’d leave after I treated you so badly those first two years, but when I saw you with Remi by the river that day, I knew I had to have you. I have never wanted anyone so much in my life. I fucking hated myself for pushing y

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.

A traitor emerged. From our own ranks!

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.