Page 130 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

~KIERAN~

Piercing fear has gripped me twice in my life, each instance carved into memory with brutal precision that haunts my darkest dreams and quietest moments.

The first burned deepest – watching her fall as vengeance found its mark through the scope of my rifle.

Those jade eyes that once held such promise, such deception, such calculated manipulation, faded to emptiness as death claimed what remained of her lies.

Her body hit the ground with finality that should have brought satisfaction, should have eased years of torment, yet the lack of regret in her final gaze twisted the blade deeper into my already shattered soul.

No remorse for bonds destroyed.

No acknowledgment of trust betrayed.

No recognition of lives she'd methodically shattered.

She died as she lived – denying me even the smallest comfort of seeing regret cross her features. The woman who'd promised forever, who'd made me believe in second chances, who'dsystematically dismantled everything we'd built, refused to grant even that small mercy in her final moments.

The bullet that ended her life should have brought closure. Instead, it sealed away parts of me I thought would never stir again. The alpha who believed in connection, in possibility, in the power of pack bonds – he died alongside her in that rain-soaked field.

The second time fear paralyzed differently – Vale's collapse striking without warning during what should have been routine training. One moment he stood tall, directing operations with characteristic precision, the next his legs simply ceased functioning.

Watching a brother, a friend, a core pillar of our pack's strength crumble as an unnamed disease ravaged his body burned a new kind of terror into my psyche.

Helplessness tastes identical whether facing betrayal or illness – both leaving scars that never truly heal, wounds that reopen with each remembered detail.

The doctors' baffled expressions, the endless tests leading nowhere, the gradual acceptance that we were watching him fade without means to stop it – each memory carries its own special agony.

I never expected to experience such primal terror a third time. Never imagined running through clouds of teal and magenta gas that transform a familiar forest into a surreal battlefield straight from fever dreams.

Couldn’t possibly have prepared for the sight of a slender omega figure igniting every dormant alpha instinct with mere presence.

Her scent hits like a physical force – pure and complex and devastating in its effect on senses I thought permanently deadened. Fire races through my veins, burning away years ofcarefully maintained control as buried emotions surge back to life with volcanic intensity.

The alpha I believed died with my betrayer claws its way to consciousness, howling recognition of something profound and terrifying in its implications.

Time seems to slow as I process details through instincts screaming for action:

The way her dark green hair catches dim light.

How magenta highlights shift like aurora through the strands.

The grace in her movements even as strength fails.

The determination in her stance as she provides cover for Atlas's retreat.

Each observation feeds the growing inferno in my chest, awakening responses I'd convinced myself would never return. The alpha in me recognizes something vital in her presence – something that transcends logic or reason.

The cruel symmetry of the past repeating itself sends ice through my burning blood. However, where jade eyes once held calculation and malice, this omega radiates an entirely different energy.

Her presence draws our pack together rather than tearing us apart, making this potential loss cut deeper than a mere physical wound.

Atlas cradles her motionless form while blood paints his shirt crimson, the stain spreading with terrifying speed.

Vale's anguished expression from his position across Atlas's shoulders mirrors the agony I feel watching another life slip away – but this time, death claims an innocent. Someone who deserves salvation rather than punishment, protection rather than vengeance.

The gas swirling around us takes on a dreamlike quality as I watch her begin to fall in terrible slow motion. Every enhanced sense captures the perfect clarity of the moment:

The exact shade of ivory green in her eyes as they fix open.

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