Mafia Princess’s Forever Loyalty

"Ah—!"

I let out a gut-wrenching scream.

Violent electric currents swarmed like thousands of vipers, drilling into my cerebral cortex through the probes and gnawing frantically at my nerves.

My body convulsed, limbs thrashing desperately, clanging against the iron chains. Blood streamed from my seven orifices, dripping onto the cold torture chair.

Suddenly, a clear image stabilized on the screen.

It was a perspective shot from my own eyes. In the memory, I was holding a gun. My hands were steady, and the muzzle was pointed directly at a woman kneeling on the ground—Elena.

"Die," my voice in the memory was cold.

Bang! The gunshot rang out, and Elena fell into a pool of blood.

The torture chamber erupted into chaos instantly.

"She did it! We saw it!"

"This vicious woman executed the Godmother herself!"

Elena’s brother, Marco, roared like a beast. His eyes bulged with bloodlust, and he completely ignored the Don's presence. He vaulted onto the high platform, kicking the technician aside, and slammed the butt of his heavy pistol into my forehead.

"Bitch! I'll kill you!"

Blood blinded my left eye instantly. Marco grabbed my hair, slamming my head against the metal armrest of the chair again and again.

"You shot her! You shot my sister!"

"Marco! Stand down!" Alexander’s furious roar cut through the noise. He drew his gun and fired a warning shot into the ceiling.

Bang!

The gunshot echoed, momentarily stunning the crowd. Alexander strode over, kicked Marco in the chest, sending him flying off the platform, and pointed his gun at the unruly mob below.

"Anyone who touches her before I give the order dies!"

Alexander turned back, his handsome face so dark it looked like it could drip water. He grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my shattered cheekbones, forcing me to look at the frozen image of the gunshot on the screen.

"Is this what you were hiding? You pulled the trigger yourself? I thought you were just an accomplice, but you were the executioner!"

I gasped for air, blood bubbling from my mouth, a strange, broken smile appearing on my face.

"Yes... I killed her... I was jealous of her... Alexander, kill me... avenge her... hurry..." I provoked him desperately.

"I hated her perfection... I hated that you loved her..."

I wanted him to shoot. If I died, the secret would be buried forever.

Alexander’s hand shook. The betrayal was eating him alive. He slowly raised his gun, the muzzle pressing against the center of my forehead.

"Then go to hell."

His finger tightened on the trigger.

"Wait! Don! Stop!" The lead technician, who had crawled back to the console, suddenly screamed, his voice cracking with terror. "Don't shoot! That memory is fake!"

"Fake?" Alexander’s hand froze, but he didn't lower the gun. His gaze shifted to the technician like a blade.

"Look at the waveform monitor!" The technician pointed frantically at the instrument panel where red warning lights were flashing violently. "The brainwaves are completely erratic. The beta waves are spiking abnormally. This isn't a retrieval of the hippocampus; it's a real-time fabrication from the frontal lobe!"

"She is forcing herself to imagine a scene of killing Miss Elena! She is hallucinating on purpose to trick you into killing her!"

The crowd below fell silent, confusion replacing their rage.

Alexander was stunned. He looked back at me, the intent to kill wavering.

"You... you fabricated a memory?" Alexander looked at me in disbelief, the anger in his eyes turning into a terrifying confusion. "Why? Why would you rather frame yourself as the murderer than let me see the truth?"

I felt a chill of despair.

"Inject her with the Neuro-Stimulant," Alexander ordered coldly, holstering his gun.

"But Don, her heart rate is already at 180..." the doctor warned weakly.

"Do it! I don't care if her heart explodes, I want her conscious! I want her brain wide open!"

The technician trembled as he injected a glowing blue liquid into my neck.

My body arched violently, veins bulging on my forehead.

The pain was magnified ten times, but my mind was forced into a state of terrifying clarity. My defenses crumbled.

"No..." I whimpered, tears mixing with blood.

"Let's see who you are really protecting," Alexander whispered in my ear, like a demon.

He shoved the technician aside. "Increase the power! Expand the extraction range to the limit!"

"I want to see every detail clearly! I want to see how you watched her die!"

The images on the big screen flickered wildly, filled with static snow.

One moment, it was us robbing a store on the streets of Sicily; the next, I was learning to shoot for the first time; then, the three of us drinking under the lemon trees.

But the night of Elena’s death was missing.

Alexander spun around, grabbed the lead technician by the collar, and pressed his gun directly against the man's temple.

"Explain this to me! Why can't I see the killer's face?"

The lead technician fell to his knees in terror, stammering:

"Don... it’s her... it’s her subconscious rejecting it to the extreme..."

"She is fighting the system... Even if she goes brain-dead, she refuses to let that memory be extracted!"

"Refuses extraction?"

Alexander shoved the technician aside and strode over to me.

His azure eyes were webbed with red blood vessels—a mix of rage and the hysteria of betrayal.

"Ivy! You're at this stage, and you're still putting up a fight?"

"What kind of man is worth you risking everything, risking your life to protect? That is the butcher who tortured Elena!"

I was already delirious, the intense pain causing hallucinations.

I couldn't hear what he was cursing about. I only felt that the blurry figure in front of me seemed to be the gentle foster brother who used to carry me on his back through the streets of Sicily ten years ago.

I convulsed uncontrollably, my lips trembling as I repeated the mantra carved into my bones:

"Can't say... can't say..."

"If I say it... Xander will die..."

"If I say it... Alexander will break..."

Although my voice was as weak as a mosquito's buzz, Alexander was too close. He heard it.

His body jolted, a trace of shock flashing through his eyes, immediately replaced by deeper fury.

"For that killer, you're still playing these games?"

"Ivy, your acting skills are getting better and better. Trying to garner sympathy even now?"

He suddenly pulled out the black-gold dagger from his waist. The cold blade pressed deadly against my windpipe; another inch forward, and it would slice my artery.

"Stop playing the fool! Crank up the stimulation! I want the truth!"

"Don! The machine is overheating! If we increase voltage again, it might short-circuit and fry her brain instantly!" the technician screamed.

"Burn it!" Alexander didn't even look back. "If she wants to take the secret to hell, I'll drag her back from the gates!"

He grabbed the voltage lever himself and slammed it to the absolute maximum.

Sparks flew from the console. Smoke began to rise from the helmet on my head.

"Urgh—!"

I let out a wretched wail again, my body taut as a bow pulled to its limit. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

Watching my face twist in agony, the hand Alexander used to hold the dagger actually trembled uncontrollably.

He stared at the big screen, eyes bloodshot, roaring almost like a madman: "Ivy, who is it?! Who is worth you protecting like this? That was Elena!"

He suddenly broke down, rushing forward to grab my collar, burying his head in the crook of my neck, his voice hoarse: "We... we were your family..."

His shoulders shook violently.

A drop of warm liquid fell onto my face, scalding hot.

My body shuddered.

My brother was crying.

The arrogant Don was crying.

In that second, his face reflected in my dilated pupils.

In the extreme agony, my mental defenses finally burst.

Subconsciously, I reached out a hand covered in needle marks and blood and gently touched Alexander’s cold face.

With infinite attachment, I used my mutilated tongue to slur out a cry:

"Xander... don't cry..."

That long-lost childhood nickname hit Alexander’s heart like a sledgehammer.

He froze completely, a crack appearing in his mask of majestic authority.

In that split second of his distraction, my psychological defenses collapsed completely.

Zzzzt—

The screen flickered violently.