C9 Traitor

Cinnia had just stepped out of the stuffy room she acquired for the night, for some fresh air when she noticed the deep blue Ford Fiesta parked across the road.

She had seen the small vehicle when she arrived at the motel but paid no attention to it.

However, when she saw it was still there three hours after she entered the motel's surprisingly spacious parking lot, partly hidden in the darkness of the star-studded night sky, she became increasingly suspicious.

She still couldn't see who was in the car after many attempts at squinting but her instincts told her that it wasn't empty. Years of running had made her doubtful of cars lingering around wherever she was for too long.

'Denzel couldn't have followed me, could he?' She wondered.

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of her dress, Cinnia placed one in her mouth and was about to light it when she remembered that she was pregnant.

Despite the nagging temptation to get rid of the child, render the witches' plans useless and sever the thread that ensured she and Denzel would forever be connected, she had decided to keep the pregnancy.

She couldn't bring herself to kill her child no matter how furious she was with the father and his family so she poured the contents of the container onto the side of the road, threw the empty glass on the seat next to her, and sped off.

Sighing deeply, she pocketed the lighter and cigarettes and stared at the car for a while before turning and heading inside.

She couldn't bear to let paranoia overwhelm her. If Denzel was the one following her, then that was his problem. He could follow her to the ends of the earth for all she cared but she wouldn't return to live under the same roof with a psychotic killer.

The next morning, she checked out of the room and climbed into her car.

She glanced across the road and just as she had expected but feared nonetheless, the Ford remained there.

Once she had driven out of the parking lot and onto the road, she checked her rearview mirror and confirmed her trepidation.

She was being followed.

...

"Maverick, get me the pack legal records and anything related to banishments," Denzel ordered as he scanned through files on his desk.

"Tell me you don't believe that girl. Our father is a lot of things but he's not a psychopath."

"I don't remember asking for your input, brother. Do as I say." Denzel didn't look up from the folder in his hands.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Maverick held his tongue and left.

'She has to be mistaken. Please, goddess, let her be mistaken.'

After what seemed like hours, Maverick finally returned bearing a large binder and a small flash drive.

"The drive contains our legal records and this binder has everything related to exiles and all. For your sake Denzel, I hope this girl is worth your doubt in our father."

Maverick slammed the binder and flash drive on the desk and stormed off.

Denzel buried his head in his hands for a minute to gather his wits and prepare himself for the worst.

Finally, he raised his head and in the blink of an eye, inserted the flash drive into his laptop and simultaneously began flipping through pages of the binder.

An hour passed and he had still not found what he was looking for. There was no mention of Nathan and Manara Ramilek. The discovery almost made him punch the air in victory. Maybe she was wrong. She must have been mistaken.

However, Cinnia's tear-stained face flashed before his eyes.

"He took them away from me. I can clearly remember him sinking his claws into my father's chest."

He couldn't forget the torment in her voice. That kind of agony couldn't be caused by a mistake. There must be a reason why she believed that.

Denzel had gone through quite a lot in his life and had acquired many injuries—some of which would have killed him if he were human—but none hurt him more than the hate and fury in her eyes that was directed at him.

Denzel didn't know her well but he wanted to. He wanted to see her, everything about her. He wanted to share in her joys and sadness; her fury and her peace, but that wouldn't be possible if she still believed that his father was connected to the death of her parents.

That alone spurred Denzel to scrutinize the records all over again.

Treason.

The word hidden in a little box in one of the many papers attached to the binder caught Denzel's attention.

Alpha N.R and M.R(Witch) were sentenced to death for treason against the Nightfall pack and the Darah Haven coven. Punishment is to be carried out by Beta Jerome Montgomery.

Denzel's breath hitched in his throat. He read the paragraph again to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.

Fuck, she's right. Oh, goddess, why did I let her go?

His hands balled into fists and he punched the desk, sending the various pens scattered on it flying to different corners of his office.

He stood swiftly from his chair and marched out and down the flight of stairs to his father's study.

Giving no preamble, he barged in and set down the sheet of paper he had torn from the binder.

"What is it, my son? There is much work to be done regarding the issue of our borders. That reminds me, I need you to take over—"

"Nathan and Manara Ramilek. Tell me what you know."

Jerome Montgomery raised his head above the screen of his computer. He took off his glasses, reclined in his seat, and crossed his arms.

His gaze was cool as ice when he glanced at the paper Denzel laid before him.

"I don't tolerate insolence, Denzel. Because I named you Alpha of this pack doesn't mean that I don't have power over you. I am still your king."

"Cut the bullshit, Father. Tell me the truth," Denzel snapped.

Jerome's eyes narrowed. His jaw began to tick rapidly. "Nathan and Manara Ramilek were traitors. You know the pack laws. Therefore, you are aware of how we deal with treason."

He picked the paper up and looked over it before slowly tearing it to shreds, his cutting gaze never leaving Denzel's.

"This is about your mate's accusations," He stated simply, an elegant eyebrow raised half an inch.

Denzel didn't answer. His teeth ground against each other. He knew what his father was doing. Hell, they've been living under the same roof for twenty-five years. He knew the man like the back of his hand.

"I understand the mate bond, boy. However, you must remember that your feelings for your mate shouldn't cloud your reasoning. Only allow reason to rule over you. Not passion," Jerome lectured.

"I'm not a child, Father. I also understand the mate bond more than you think. What exactly did Nathan and Manara do that was so treasonous?"

Jerome sighed, shaking his head in disappointment at his son's insistence on being a problem. He got up and circled his desk to sit on the edge facing Denzel.

"You know, as the daughter of a werewolf and a witch, your mate is a hybrid. She has witch blood running through her veins. Your relations would be forbidden if she was fully a witch.

"You're very lucky she also has wolf blood in her. There might be a way to bind her witch side and make her a full werewolf. That way, it'll be accepted for the both of you to be together."

Denzel's eyes hardened. "You killed them because they were from different factions? That was their crime?" He shook his head in disbelief. "This is so stupid," He muttered, a dry laugh escaping his lips.

"He was your fucking Alpha! How could you?!" He yelled, grabbing the collar of Jerome's shirt.

Jerome took his hand off and held it in a crushing grip that would have made an ordinary man keel over.

"I had a duty. I did what was right for the pack. Witches and werewolves cannot procreate with each other. Don't you understand anything I have taught you?!"

"Did you want to kill her as well?" Denzel whispered.

Jerome's glare softened. "Manara saved your life as a boy. She's the reason you're alive and why you're the world's only Lycan. It hurt me to slit her throat and it hurt me, even more, to have to send my men after her daughter all these years."

"You did what?"

"She's alive, isn't she? If I had known she was going to be your mate, I would have channeled my resources into caging her witch side instead but there's no issue. Bring her back and it can be done."

"You're sick. Can you even listen to yourself? I told her to her face that you can't kill anyone! I didn’t believe her for a second. Now, you want me to bring her back so you can cut off a part of who she is?!"

Jerome pinched the bridge of his nose. "Must you be so difficult, Denzel? You are an Alpha! Act like it!"

A slow smile spread across Denzel's face. "You're right. I am an Alpha. So, I challenge you to a Kaiv Machia."

Jerome's eyes widened in surprise. "You dare challenge me to a Kaiv Machia because of a mate bond that she can reject at any moment that suits her?"

"She had the chance to reject me but she didn't. I will win her back without taking away a part of her that I am convinced she holds dear. If I win, you must go into exile immediately but if I don't, you are free to do as you please and I will never speak against you," Denzel said, his stare never wavering.

"Agreed."

Just then, Denzel's phone rang out.

"Kai, have you found out where she's headed?" He asked his best friend, a gamma of the pack, Malakai Truverd.

"I didn't sign up to be a private detective, man. I should be enjoying a vacation in the Maldives right now but no, you just had to drag me into this," Kai drawled.

"You can go to the Maldives for all I care, Kai but you'll only do that once you're done helping me, my dearest friend."

Kai groaned in frustration. "This means that my vacation would have to be pushed to a later date."

"What do you mean?" Denzel's eyes narrowed in suspicion as Jerome studied his movements.

"I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Don't get mad. I...may have lost her."

...

"Damn, I should be a formula one driver," Cinnia praised herself after successfully evading the driver of the blue Ford.

She turned up the music on the Bluetooth speaker connected to her new phone which she conveniently purchased and registered at the phone store in the same building as the motel before checking out.

The road she was driving on was narrow and empty and that was why she didn't expect a jeep to appear out of nowhere and crash into the hood of her car, sending it flying.

She blacked out before the car crashed on the tarred road.

...

Cinnia groaned in discomfort when she finally managed to open her eyelids which felt like they weighed a ton. There was something crusted on her eyelashes that made it difficult for her to see.

Her head was pounding as if she were at a rock concert. She fumbled with the cold metal cuffs around her wrists which were attached to a long, thick chain bolted to a high beam above her head.

Her feet barely touched the damp, concrete floor and the more she tried to set them down, the more her arms screamed in protest.

"How the hell do I keep getting into these situations?"