<h4>Chapter 560: ric’s Nightmare</h4>


    Realizing that screaming and struggling would get him nowhere, ric 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 n to do to me, Mother?" ric 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 time ric 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 moment, her expression softened. She set the syringe on the metal tray and crossed to his side.


    "ric, baby?" she whispered, testing him.


    ricy 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 me?" 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 ric, not this violent creature who curses and fights me. I don’t even recognize you anymore."


    "Fine, I’m sorry," ric 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 me."


    Zara smiled faintly, threading her hand through his damp hair. "I know, my love. Don’t worry, the cuffs wille off soon. I can’t perform the procedure without you and your wolf in perfect equilibrium."


    Dread wed at ric’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 metal frame branched into delicate braided wires, and fine mesh petals ovepping it.


    His blood ran cold. "What is that, Mother?"


    Zara followed his gaze. "Oh, that? The Mnemosyne Crown," she said casually, almost proudly.


    ric’s pulse spiked, but he kept his tone calm. "Why am I only hearing about this now? You never mentioned it to me."


    "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 same experiment on.


    ric’s heart stopped. "Lost...?"


    Zara’s tone turned exasperated. "Technically, the experiment 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 calcted risk."


    ric’s fury rose, though he kept his voice measured. "He didn’t agree to this. You experimented on him without his consent." His breath caught as a horrifying realization dawned. "And now you n to do the same thing to me."


    His wild gaze swung to the two guards stationed by the door. "Did you hear that?!" ric shouted, straining against his restraints. "You’re going to stand there and let her torture your future Alpha?!"


    For the first time, hesitation showed in their eyes, a crack in their unquestioning obedience to their Luna.


    Zara rolled her eyes. "Oh,e on, ric, stop being dramatic. Do you really think I’m cruel enough to harm my own son?"


    ric 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."


    ric 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 memories of that girl, Violet, will bepletely erased. She’ll be gone from your life forever, and I’ll finally have my son back. My real son. There may be some short-term ckouts, maybe a little disorientation, but that’s normal after such a major neurological procedure. With rehabilitation, you’ll be perfect again."


    "Oh my God," ric 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, ric. Surely, you’ll understand."


    "There are boundaries you don’t cross in science!" ric roared, thrashing against the restraints. "And the fact you’re willing to do this to your own son makes you a monster!"


    ric was done ying 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 apud you for this?!"


    Ignoring him, Zara went and picked up the syringe, saying, "By the time your father learns what I’ve aplished here, your concerns will be meaningless."


    ric’s breathing quickened. "What is that?"


    "A rxant," Zara replied smoothly. "It will flood your system with endorphins and suppress adrenaline, making you calm andpliant. It’s the easiest way to proceed since you refuse to cooperate."


    "I swear to the goddess, Mother, if I ever—mmmph!" ric’s threat cut off into a muffled groan as Zara plunged the needle into his arm.


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    He gritted his teeth, muscles tensing, while the medicine 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 equipment. One by one, they attached electrodes to ric’s temples, chest, and wrists, connecting him to machines that disyed his vital signs on the monitor.


    "Vitals," Zaramanded.


    "Heart rate steady at eighty-two BPM," the doctor reported, ncing at the screen. "Blood pressure is stable. Oxygen saturation is ny-nine percent."


    "Good, " Zara said with satisfaction. She turned to face the Mnemosyne Crown, its dark metallic petals gleaming like something born of nightmares.


    "Take off the suppressor. It’s time," she announced coldly.