Realizing that screaming and struggling would get him nowhere, Alaric forced himself to think. Since violence wouldn’t work, maybe, just maybe, he could reach the part of his mother that still loved him.
"What do you plan to do to , Mother?" Alaric rasped, his voice hoarse and raw from shouting.
Zara paused mid-motion, a syringe halfway filled with a clear, viscous solution intended to use on him. Her hand stilled as she turned toward him, surprise in her eyes.
It was the first ti Alaric had called her "Mother" since this nightmare began. Before now, it had always been "Zara" or "Bitch," as if the word mother burned his tongue.
For a brief mont, her expression softened. She set the syringe on the tal tray and crossed to his side.
"Alaric, baby?" she whispered, testing him.
Alaric lay restrained on the cold table, sweat beading across his brow. Between the suppressor cuffs and the physical strain of fighting, he looked fragile and vulnerable. One might even said he lost weight.
"Why are you doing this to ?" His voice cracked, heavy with anguish. "Why, Mother?"
Zara cupped his face, wiping the sweat tenderly. "Because I want my son back," she said softly. "My sweet, obedient Alaric, not this violent creature who curses and fights . I don’t even recognize you anymore."
"Fine, I’m sorry," Alaric gasped, his chest heaving. "Just remove the suppressor cuffs. I miss my wolf, Mother. It’s been days... I feel empty, and hollow inside. Please mother, it’s killing ."
Zara smiled faintly, threading her hand through his damp hair. "I know, my love. Don’t worry, the cuffs will co off soon. I can’t perform the procedure without you and your wolf in perfect equilibrium."
Dread clawed at Alaric’s insides. He forced his voice to stay calm. "What procedure?"
Then he turned his head and saw the strange, crown-like device with a matte tal fra branched into delicate braided wires, and fine sh petals overlapping it.
His blood ran cold. "What is that, Mother?"
Zara followed his gaze. "Oh, that? The Mnemosyne Crown," she said casually, almost proudly.
Alaric’s pulse spiked, but he kept his tone calm. "Why am I only hearing about this now? You never ntioned it to ."
"That’s because your father ordered the project shut down after we lost a subject..." Zara trailed off, realizing that was the wrong thing to say to her son that she was about to perform the sa experint on.
Alaric’s heart stopped. "Lost...?"
Zara’s tone turned exasperated. "Technically, the experint didn’t kill him. He just wasn’t strong enough. His mind fractured and he went feral. We had no choice but to put him down. Besides, he was a convicted criminal awaiting execution, anyway. It was a calculated risk."
Alaric’s fury rose, though he kept his voice asured. "He didn’t agree to this. You experinted on him without his consent." His breath caught as a horrifying realization dawned. "And now you plan to do the sa thing to ."
His wild gaze swung to the two guards stationed by the door. "Did you hear that?!" Alaric shouted, straining against his restraints. "You’re going to stand there and let her torture your future Alpha?!"
For the first ti, hesitation showed in their eyes, a crack in their unquestioning obedience to their Luna.
Zara rolled her eyes. "Oh, co on, Alaric, stop being dramatic. Do you really think I’m cruel enough to harm my own son?"
Alaric grunted, yanking at the leather straps binding his wrists to prove his point without words.
Zara told him, "I’ve spent over twenty-four hours perfecting the Mnemosyne Crown. You can rest assured, you’re not going to die. There will be side effects, of course, but nothing I can’t manage."
Alaric froze. "What did you just say?"
Zara’s voice grew soothing, as if she were speaking to a frightened child. "The purpose of this procedure is simple. Once it’s done, your mories of that girl, Violet, will be completely erased. She’ll be gone from your life forever, and I’ll finally have my son back. My real son. There may be so short-term blackouts, maybe a little disorientation, but that’s normal after such a major neurological procedure. With rehabilitation, you’ll be perfect again."
"Oh my God," Alaric whispered in horror. "You’ve lost your mind."
"No," Zara snapped. "I’m doing what any mother would do if she were about to lose her son to a witch like Violet. This is science, Alaric. Surely, you’ll understand."
"There are boundaries you don’t cross in science!" Alaric roared, thrashing against the restraints. "And the fact you’re willing to do this to your own son makes you a monster!"
Alaric was done playing nice. Nothing was going to change his mother, he could see it. The woman had finally lost it.
"Does Father even know about this?!" He demanded. "No matter how spineless you think he is, do you really believe he’d applaud you for this?!"
Ignoring him, Zara went and picked up the syringe, saying, "By the ti your father learns what I’ve accomplished here, your concerns will be aningless."
Alaric’s breathing quickened. "What is that?"
"A relaxant," Zara replied smoothly. "It will flood your system with endorphins and suppress adrenaline, making you calm and compliant. It’s the easiest way to proceed since you refuse to cooperate."
"I swear to the goddess, Mother, if I ever—mmmph!" Alaric’s threat cut off into a muffled groan as Zara plunged the needle into his arm.
He gritted his teeth, muscles tensing, while the dicine burned through his veins. Slowly, the fight began to drain from his body, leaving him heavy and limp.
"Prepare him," Zara ordered crisply.
The assistant doctor sprang into action, wheeling over a tray of equipnt. One by one, they attached electrodes to Alaric’s temples, chest, and wrists, connecting him to machines that displayed his vital signs on the monitor.
"Vitals," Zara commanded.
"Heart rate steady at eighty-two BPM," the doctor reported, glancing at the screen. "Blood pressure is stable. Oxygen saturation is ninety-nine percent."
"Good, " Zara said with satisfaction. She turned to face the Mnemosyne Crown, its dark tallic petals gleaming like sothing born of nightmares.
"Take off the suppressor. It’s ti," she announced coldly.
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