Page 65 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

“Lead the way.”

My lips can’t curl upward anymore than they have.

10

LOST FANTASIES OF WHAT’S POSSIBLE

~VALE~

The modified van blends seamlessly into the shadows of Ravenscroft's blind spot, its jet-black exterior making it virtually invisible in the darkness.

I can't help but smirk at the irony - a facility this size, with all its government funding and cutting-edge security, and they've somehow missed this perfect dead zone in its surveillance grid.

No cameras.

No motion sensors.

Not even basic electromagnetic monitoring.

Just a blank spot in their defense network, like a hole in a supposedly impenetrable wall.

It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

The tactical part of my mind automatically catalogs this weakness for future reference.

A facility this size having such an obvious vulnerability speaks to deeper problems in their security infrastructure. The kind of oversight that suggests either incompetence or, more likely, the arrogance of those who think they're untouchable.

I shift in my combat gear, the familiar weight of the bulletproof vest beneath my black tactical clothing both comforting and constraining.

Everything is designed for stealth - no reflective surfaces, no loose straps, nothing that could catch light or make noise.

Perfect invisibility for the eyes in the shadows.

The bank of monitors before me bathes my face in a blue glow, each screen showing a different aspect of Ravenscroft's external security.

Camera feeds I've hijacked, guard patrol patterns I've mapped, and the live thermal imaging that will let me track our team's progress once they move in.

Through my earpiece, I can hear the chaos of fifteen alphas trying to plan together. The other subdivision units arrived faster than expected - probably eager for action after hearing about the potential omega extractions.

Fifteen apex predators in one room.

The thought makes me grateful to be out here in my mobile command center rather than in that testosterone-fueled planning session. The energy of that many dominant alphas in close quarters would be overwhelming even on a good day.

And today is definitely not a good day.

My legs twitch beneath the desk, a reminder of the constant battle my body wages against itself. The disease is progressing faster now - I can feel it in the way my muscles protest even simple movements, in how the numbness creeps higher each week.

My eyes drift to the modified injector sitting beside my laptop.

It looks deceptively simple, like a standard EpiPen, but this is something else entirely. Something experimental, dangerous, and absolutely necessary if I want to be of any use to my pack tonight.

One shot.

That's all I get.

One chance to temporarily reverse the paralysis, to make my legs work like they used to. The doctors warned me about using it —— said the strain could accelerate the disease's progression and could cost me months of what little time I had left.

But what good is saving time if you can't use it when it matters?

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