Not My Fairytale

Chapter 22

**Sorry, it's a little late at night :) **

A Traitor Among Us

I clutched the letter tightly to my chest, marveling at its newfound value.

Never in my life had it been so easy to leave the castle grounds alone. Perhaps I would have to learn to forge my father's signature for personal use in the future. All it had taken was a glance at the elegant scribble at the bottom of the page, and I had been waved right through the gate, no further questions asked.

It was a pleasant, breezy early February afternoon, only one week since Angelo had given me that veiled tip about the Cazzico iron mines. One week. One week that had flashed by in the blink of an eye. I had been so busy that for the first time since we met, the time spent away from Angelo didn't drag on at what felt like half speed. I just hoped that it meant that I was making progress on conquering the mate bond.

Deep down, I knew that was likely not the case.

I didn't let that ruin my cheerful mood as I tucked the letter safely into the satchel slung across my shoulder and let my hair loose from its tight bun. Hoping to extend my little moment of peace for as long as I could, I took the long way to the blacksmith's, strolling alongside the river that ran through the edge of the city instead of cutting straight to the bridge from the road.

Peace might be hard to find soon, if my father's worst fears were realized.

I had been fortunate to find him alone in his study that night after I had abruptly ended that little game of questions with Angelo. Though he had been hesitant to believe my theory, the next morning my father was making the necessary inquiries to get our hands on the documents we needed. After that, the evidence began stacking up on its own.

We couldn't figure out how the Blood Fangs were smuggling their weapons over the border, because they weren't. My father had gotten his hands on the Cazzico Mining Company's production records from the last five years. This year, for no clear reason given both the supply and demand for the company's goods were unchanged, they had implemented a twenty-five percent decrease in production only months before the first Blood Fang attacks began. My father, who had been reluctant to believe that his own people could be assisting the enemy, had only given the paperwork a long stare, brows drawn. "We need to dig deeper," was all he had said to me. It hadn't been the dismissal of my theory that I had expected. I couldn't shake the feeling of progress, even though I could see the pain it caused my father to consider the possibility.

The next morning, I had received a summons back to his study in lieu of training. When I arrived, he wordlessly handed me a stack of pages detailing Cazzico Mining Co.'s payroll information. I had looked between the papers and my father, confused, "They hired more people as they cut production?"

He walked around his desk to peer at the paper over my shoulder. "It appears so, and if you look right here," he flipped to the third page, where the new hires were listed, "many of the new employees aren't Lupian."

"They're from The Free Lands," I breathed.

He nodded, "Like the knife."

Like Angelo, I thought. I only nodded my head to him in understanding.

The next few days were spent gathering as much information on the owner of the company as we could find. We scoured all databases for any and all mention of Vito DiMaio from tax records to news articles. My father's mood only seemed to darken the more we found.

"It's pretty obvious he's guilty of manufacturing the Blood Fang weapons," I had mumbled one day, flipping through a legal case in which a human employee sued DiMaio's company for wrongful termination, "but why? How much hate must someone have to turn on their own kingdom in favor of a foreign power?"