Page 171 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

The memory of their kindness, their acceptance, their careful consideration will have to sustain me through whatever awaits in those sterile halls.

Kieran's hand reaches for me as I return the contract to the desk, his touch carrying desperate pleas I cannot acknowledge. The pen feels heavy as I sign just 'Blackwood' – refusing to give my full signature.

Let Charles wonder at the omission, but I won't risk him using my complete name on other documents that might drag me deeper into whatever schemes he's crafting.

"Done," I announce with calm I don't feel. "I'll be at Ravenscroft's gates tomorrow morning."

Charles's frown carries obvious displeasure at the delay.

Before he can protest, I continue.

"Surely you'll allow one more night with my alphas." The words taste bitter but necessary. "It would be cruel to deprive a pack that's grown accustomed to omega presence without letting me...serve their needs one final time."

His huff of amusement carries notes of male appreciation for implied activities.

"Of course," he waves dismissively, victory making him magnanimous. "I'll send the contract copy to Vale's email for safekeeping." His smile turns sharp. "Just in case your pack needs a reminder before attempting any foolish rescue missions on my property."

The implied threat carries clear understanding of their tactical capabilities. But his smug satisfaction proves he doesn't truly understand what he's dealing with – doesn't recognize thatsometimes cages create more dangerous predators than freedom ever could.

For now I'll play my role, accept his terms, walk willingly into his trap he thinks is so cleverly constructed. But six years of his careful programming created a weapon he never fully comprehended. His victory feels hollow against the weight of what those years taught me about patience, about survival, about turning captivity itself into strength.

One final night of freedom stretches before me, one last chance to feel the safety of pack bonds before sterile halls reclaim their prize. The alphas' fury radiates against my skin, their protective rage filling the air with promise of violence delayed but not denied.

But Vale's survival outweighs everything –their anger, my freedom, whatever future we might have built together.

Sometimes sacrifice demands the highest price from those most willing to pay it.

29

THE WEIGHT OF GOODBYE

~NYX~

“There’s no way I'm struggling into this non-concealing piece for no one to be here,” I complain with my hands on my hips.

The bedroom feels impossibly large tonight, shadows stretching across the plush carpet like grasping fingers.

Moonlight filters through gauzy curtains, casting everything in shades of silver and blue that only heighten the surreal quality of these final hours.

I stand in the doorway, uncertainty making my feet feel heavy as lead. The shadows in my mind hum with gentle melancholy, their song carrying notes of farewell rather than their usual warnings. They recognize the weight of this moment—the last night of freedom before sterile halls reclaim their prize.

Dante lies on the bed, back pressed on the mountain of pillows at the headboard. His hands are behind his head, flexing his arms in their tempting position while he lies beneath a single blanket that surely covers his nakedness. His usual confident smirk is firmly in place though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

The heaviness of defeat rings through the house this evening, as palpable as the silence that surrounded our final meal together. Each bite tasted like ash, conversation dying beneath the weight of what tomorrow brings.

"Come here, little Goddess," he calls softly, arms opening in invitation.

The gentleness in his voice breaks something inside me. Tears spring unbidden to my eyes, blurring my vision as I cross the room on trembling legs. The plush carpet feels impossibly soft beneath my feet—such stark contrast to the cold concrete floors that await me.

I crawl onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. Dante's arms wrap around me immediately, pulling me against his chest with careful tenderness that only makes the tears fall faster.

"Don't cry, little Goddess," he whispers, his lips brushing my temple. "A star of the night shouldn't be shedding tears. You're always supposed to shine, no matter the circumstance."

A sob tears from my throat, raw and painful.

"I hate this," I manage between gasping breaths. "I hate that I barely got to know any of you. That everything's being stripped away before it could truly begin."

The shadows weave through my consciousness with mournful harmony, their song carrying notes of profound loss. They've returned in full force, preparing for the battles ahead.

---