The agonizing white light fractured.

The sterile walls of the operating room dissolved, replaced by a massive, glowing projection hovering above the console. The machine was tearing the past straight from my synapses, broadcasting my raw memories for my family to judge.

A dense, vibrant forest materialized on the screens.

"There are bigger, prettier mushrooms in the distant forest," a soft, faceless voice cooed through the room’s audio speakers.

On the monitor, my younger self stared up at a cloaked figure crouching in the dirt.

"Really?" my childhood voice echoed.

"You just have to step past the castle's barrier to find them," the stranger urged, extending a pale hand. "Come along."

I watched my tiny fingers reach out. I grasped the stranger's hand. I watched myself nod, completely oblivious, and walk away from the safety of the estate.

"See?" I gasped on the metal table, fighting the leather straps. "I was lured away! I didn't run from you!"

The projection violently warped. The machine ripped another year from my hippocampus, fast-forwarding through my captivity.

Rain lashed across the screens. Mud splattered against heavy iron-studded oak doors. I was older, dressed in filthy rags, my bare feet bleeding on the cobblestones.

"Let me in! Please!" I pounded my bruised fists against the castle gates. "I live here! I am Cecilia!"

"Get lost, beggar," a guard sneered from the parapet above. "The Duke has no rat-faced daughters."

"I am the Duke's daughter! Tell my father I am alive!"

The heavy gates groaned open. Not for me, but for a royal carriage returning from the city.

"Kick her into the moat," another guard barked, marching toward my shivering form.

"Stop." A booming voice cut through the storm.

Duke Edward stepped out of the carriage. He ignored the pouring rain and stared down at my dirt-streaked face.

"Father?" I whimpered in the memory.

He dropped to his knees in the mud, uncaring about his pristine coat. "Cecilia? By the gods."

He pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around my frail shoulders.

"You will once again be the only princess here," he vowed, his voice thick with emotion, echoing loudly in the operating room. "No one can ever look down on you again."

On the metal table, a bitter laugh scraped my throat. An empty promise. A lie broadcast for everyone to see.

The memory shifted again, bright and warm. The grand parlor of the manor.

"Cecilia, darling," Duchess Margaret smiled on the screen, gesturing to a timid girl in a lavish pink gown. "This is Rosalind. We adopted her after we lost you. She has been a great comfort to us."

I smiled at the girl. "Thank you for taking care of my parents."

"And now that you have returned," Margaret continued, placing a hand on my shoulder, "your rightful place is restored. Including your engagement."

Alexander stepped into the frame. He looked so young, so full of warmth. He took my scarred, rough hands in his smooth ones.

"I will make up for everything you lost," Alexander promised, kissing my knuckles. "You will be a true princess again, Cecilia. My princess."

I beamed on the screen. I was so blindly happy.

Then, the memory angle shifted slightly. The visual data captured something I hadn't consciously processed at the time.

Just over Alexander's shoulder, Rosalind's sweet facade vanished. Her lips curled into a vicious sneer. Pure, venomous hatred flashed in her eyes—a silent, absolute promise to destroy me.

The machine whined loudly in the real world.

"Look at the screen, Alexander!" I choked out through the blinding pain in my skull. "Look at her face!"

I forced my eyes open, peering through the harsh glare of the operating room.

Alexander stood completely still. His gaze was locked on the monitor. The absolute certainty in his rigid posture wavered. A flicker of hesitation crossed his features, his jaw unclenching as he stared at the undeniable malice in Rosalind's expression.

"Did you see it?" I gasped, the leather straps cutting deeper into my wrists as I strained toward him. "She hated me from the start! She faked the trauma!"

"Keep the voltage steady," Alexander commanded, though his voice lacked its previous iron edge. He refused to look away from the frozen image of Rosalind on the screen.

"The system is failing!" the doctor shouted.

Sparks showered from the console.

My heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic, irregular rhythm. The pain reached a deafening crescendo, tearing my consciousness to shreds. My spine arched off the table as a fresh wave of agony flooded my nervous system.

"Her vitals are crashing!" the doctor yelled, his hands flying across the control panel. "The neural strain is too high!"

"Extract the next memory!" my father demanded, stepping forward. "We must see the abuse! We must find the root of Rosalind's condition!"

"If I push the probe deeper, she dies right now!" the doctor shot back, ripping a wire from the main terminal. "The extraction must stop."

The blinding light snapped off.

My head slumped against the metal table. The roaring in my ears faded into a dull, heavy hum. I couldn't move my fingers. I couldn't feel my legs.

Darkness clawed at the edges of my vision.

"Alexander..." I whispered, the word tasting like copper and defeat.

Silence stretched across the sterile room. I waited for him to apologize. I waited for him to step forward and unbuckle the straps, having finally seen the truth of my innocence and Rosalind's deception.

Instead, his boots scraped against the floor tiles as he turned away from the monitors.

"Lock her in the dungeon," Alexander ordered, his tone instantly freezing over again.

"But my lord, her mind is severely damaged," the doctor pleaded. "She needs medical attention."

"I said lock her up," Alexander snapped, glaring at the physician. "Wait until she recovers. Then we continue the extraction."

"Alexander, no," I mumbled, my eyelids fluttering shut.

The assistant grabbed the heavy buckles on my wrists.

I slipped into the black void, taking one final, terrifying realization with me. Even with the truth staring them in the face, they were never going to let me go.

Damp, freezing stone pressed against my cheek.

I blinked, my eyelids heavy and crusted with dried blood. The sterile operating room was gone, replaced by the suffocating darkness of the estate’s underground cells. Mildew and rust choked the stagnant air. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest as I forced myself onto my hands and knees.

My skull throbbed in time with my frantic heartbeat. The memory extraction had left my mind fragmented, but the physical agony radiating from my abdomen grounded me in the present.

I dragged my battered body across the rough floorboards. My fingernails scraped against the stone grout until I reached the rusted iron bars of the cell door.

"Water," I croaked. My throat felt like it was lined with shattered glass. "Please."

A guard stood just beyond the bars, his broad back to me. He didn't flinch. He didn't even turn his head.

"I need water," I begged, my voice barely a whisper.

The guard finally shifted. He glanced over his shoulder, his lip curling in disgust. He stepped away from the cell and shouted down the dark corridor.

"The Duke's fake princess is awake. Inform Lord Alexander."

"Wait," I gasped, reaching a trembling hand through the bars. "Just a cup."

He ignored me entirely, marching away into the shadows.

Minutes later, the heavy thud of approaching footsteps vibrated through the stone floor. The cell door rattled as a key turned in the lock. Two massive guards shoved their way inside.

"Get up," the first guard ordered.

Before I could form a word, they grabbed my arms. They hauled me upward, dislocating my shoulders with a vicious yank. A cry tore from my throat. My bare toes dragged across the filthy ground as they hauled me out of the dungeon and up the winding stone stairs.

Harsh, blinding fluorescent light assaulted my eyes as they dragged me into a small, sterile clinic room within the manor.

They tossed me onto a narrow examination table. I hit the thin mattress hard, the impact sending a fresh wave of nausea through my system.

I blinked through the glare, trying to focus.

Alexander stood at the foot of the bed. His posture was rigid, his expression entirely unreadable. Duke Edward and Duchess Margaret flanked him, both wearing identical masks of cold indifference.

"Lord Alexander," a doctor murmured from the corner, consulting a metal clipboard. "Are you certain about the termination procedure? Lady Cecilia's vitals are dangerously low. Her body is failing. She is in no condition to endure an induced miscarriage."

Termination?

My hands flew to my stomach. The room spun wildly.

"She doesn't get a choice," Margaret stated. She refused to look at my face; her gaze remained fixed on the blank wall above my head. "The procedure happens today."

"Mother, no," I pleaded, struggling to sit up.

A guard stepped forward and shoved me back down by my collarbone, pinning me to the table.

"Do not call me that," Margaret snapped. "Rosalind saw what you did."

"Saw me do what?" I demanded, fighting the guard's heavy hand.

"She witnessed you coupling with rogue wolves near the border," Margaret said, her tone absolute ice. "That thing in your womb is a mutt. A filthy bastard."

"No!" I screamed, shaking my head frantically. "That's a lie!"

"If permitted to live, it will taint Alexander's bloodline and destroy our family's standing," my father added, his voice devoid of any paternal warmth. "We will not raise a rogue's offspring."

I twisted my neck, fixing my eyes on the man I had promised my life to. "Alexander, tell them! You know I've never touched anyone else. I have only ever been yours! This is your baby!"

Alexander uncrossed his arms. His eyes were flat, devoid of the love that used to greet me every morning. "Rosalind was terrified. She wept for hours after seeing you writhing with those feral beasts."

"She is lying to you! She wants me dead!" I clawed at the guard's wrist, desperate to reach him. "Bring her here! Let me face her! Let me prove she is lying!"

"She is too fragile to look at you," Alexander retorted. "Her mind is already broken because of your cruelty."

"Please, Alexander," I sobbed, tears spilling over my cheeks and pooling in my ears. "It's your child. You felt him kick. You picked out a name."

"My child?" Alexander scoffed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I would never sire a pup with a monster."

His words gutted me. The air trapped in my throat, choking my next breath.

"Father!" I cried out, searching Duke Edward's face for any sign of mercy. "You promised to protect me. You promised I was your princess."

Edward turned his back to the table. "You lost that title the moment you brought rogue filth onto my lands."

Desperation clawed at my chest. "I will leave!" I yelled, my voice cracking under the strain. "Let me keep the baby! I swear on my life, I will leave this territory right now. I will cross the ocean. I will change my name. You will never see my face again!"

"And let you raise a rogue bastard to one day challenge my pack?" Alexander stepped closer. He leaned over the table, his shadow swallowing me whole. "I don't leave threats alive."

"Alexander, I beg you," I whispered, my spirit shattering into a thousand pieces. "I'll do anything. Take my life, but spare the baby."

Alexander straightened up, his jaw set in stone. He looked at the physician. "Proceed with the extraction."

The doctor hesitated, his hands shaking as he set the clipboard down. "My Lord, we need to administer the anesthetic. Her heart rate is erratic."

"No numbing agents," Alexander commanded.

The doctor paled. "Sir, the pain will be unbearable. Her system might go into shock."

"I said no!" Alexander barked, his voice echoing off the tiled walls. "She betrayed me. She shattered Rosalind's mind. She will feel every ounce of this punishment."

My blood ran cold. "You're going to kill me."

"Only if you're weak," Alexander replied.

He didn't look back. He strode toward the exit, my parents following closely behind him. The heavy door swung shut, sealing me in the room with my executioners.

The doctor pulled a long, curved steel instrument from a sterile tray. The harsh clatter of metal rang in my ears.

"Restrain her," the doctor instructed.

Four guards surrounded the table. Heavy hands seized my wrists, strapping thick leather belts over my forearms, pinning them to the metal rails. Another set of hands clamped down on my ankles, forcing my legs apart and locking them into the stirrups.

"Don't touch me!" I thrashed wildly, bucking my hips against the restraints. "Get off me!"

"Hold her still," the doctor ordered, stepping between my legs.

"Alexander!" I shrieked at the closed door.

Cold steel invaded my body.

A sharp, tearing agony ripped through my core.

I screamed. The sound tore my vocal cords, raw and feral. It felt like they were carving me out alive with rusted blades.

"Hold her down!" a guard shouted over my cries as I violently fought the straps.

Another brutal cramp seized my abdomen. Warm blood soaked the sterile sheets beneath me. My baby. My innocent child. They were ripping my future away piece by piece.

"Please," I whimpered, my vision swimming with dark spots. "My baby..."

The doctor showed no mercy, driving the instrument deeper.

Pain consumed everything. It swallowed the fluorescent lights, the faces of the guards, the sterile walls. My body convulsed, desperate to escape the torture, but the leather grips held me fast.

As the final remnants of my consciousness slipped away, the despair mutated. The sorrow evaporated, replaced by a cold, searing hatred that anchored itself in my soul.

I will not die here, I promised the darkness, sealing the vow with my own blood. I will survive this. And I will make them drown in the blood they spilled today.

The blackness pulled me under, leaving only the metallic scent of death hanging in the air.