Page 173 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

"You showed us that. Showed me that. Your strength isn't in spite of what you've endured…it's because of it. Every scar and traumatic moment of survival has shaped you into a blessing for us and a threat to them."

The shadows hum with approval at his words, their harmony carrying notes of profound truth.

"Look at what you're doing right now," he continues, voice thick with emotion. "Sacrificing your freedom to save Vale. That's not weakness or submission – that's strength beyond measure. The kind of loyalty that can't be forced or programmed."

His arms tighten fractionally around me, as if physical contact might somehow prevent tomorrow from arriving.

"We're so blessed to have you in our lives," he whispers. "To witness your courage, your resilience, your capacity for care despite everything you've endured. Which is exactly why you can't lose hope in us. We won't let you down. Not like this. Not ever."

Fresh tears spill at his words, but these carry a different weight than earlier sorrow. These speak of connection that transcends mere designation dynamics – of understanding found in shared vulnerability and mutual support.

His forehead rests against mine as emotion threatens to choke his words.

"So don't you dare think for one second that we're letting you go without the fight of our lives. Don't let them convince you that you're alone, forgotten, or unworthy of rescue."

The conviction in his voice steals my breath completely.

"Because you've carved a place in this pack that no one else could ever fill. You've awakened parts of us we thought were permanently lost to trauma and time. That kind of connection? It doesn't just disappear because some asshole in an expensive suit thinks he can force it."

"I'll remember," I whisper, the words emerging thick with tears. "I'll hold onto every moment, every shared laugh, every quiet understanding like a precious treasure."

"Good girl," he murmurs, the praise sending warmth through my chest despite the circumstances. "And we'll remember too. Every smile lights up the whole room. Every challenge that pushes us to be better. Every moment of trust you've shown despite having every reason not to."

His fingers comb gently through my hair as he adds:

"We'll remember that you chose us. That you saw past our damage and designation to who we really are. That you offered connection based on understanding rather than mere biology or social expectation."

Fresh tears spill, but these carry notes of gratitude rather than grief. These speak of bonds formed through genuine care rather than clinical necessity or designation dynamics.

"Rest now," he urges softly, tucking my head beneath his chin. "Tomorrow comes soon enough. Tonight just let me holdyou, let me memorize everything about how you feel in my arms."

I wish sleeping was that simple.

30

THE DOUBLEGANGER OF TRUTH

~NYX~

The black gloves slide over my hands with familiar ease, the material supple and warm against my skin.

I study my reflection in the mirror, taking in the combat attire with a mix of appreciation and bitter irony.

The ensemble feels like preparing for field operation rather than willing to return to captivity.

How strange that I'm dressing for battle when I'm walking straight into the enemy's arms.

The material provides comfort I know won't last – these clothes will likely be stripped away before the van even reaches those imposing metal gates. Still, for now, I savor the warmth and protection they offer, however temporary.

If I even make it back alive.

The thought surfaces unbidden, accompanied by notable silence where the shadows usually whisper.

Their absence speaks volumes – no warnings, no hymns, no gentle reassurance. As if they too refuse to acknowledge the reality of what awaits, choosing instead to retreat into perfect stillness.

My gaze fixes on the mirror, studying changes wrought by mere days of freedom.

Two weeks – one spent unconscious during recovery, the other precious days learning to exist in this world beyond sterile halls.

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