Page 117 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

The one whose scent has been impossible to forget, even through years of their attempts to strip away my omega responses.

I can’t comprehend why he’s here, but I realize his survival falls in my hands.

There are only two options here.

Pretend I didn’t see him and walk away, or alert Atlas and get him the potential help he may need. It’s an odd predicament to be in because I wholeheartedly am not sure which path to choose.

To stand and slowly walk away without interfering with fate…

Or go against what I’ve learned and harbored over the years and act upon the moral desire to aid an Alpha in need…

The universe, it seems, has a peculiar sense of irony.

19

TO CHERISH SINS OF THE PAST

~VALE~

Pain rips through my legs with savage intensity, muscles spasming beyond control as the experimental serum's effects crash into brutal withdrawal.

The sterile hallway walls mock my predicament – this dead end becoming both sanctuary and trap as I fight to remain conscious through waves of agony.

A blessing to find temporary shelter.

A curse to become a sitting duck.

My breath comes in ragged gasps while sweat drips down my face, each spasm more violent than the last. The tactical vest feels suffocating now, its weight pressing against lungs that can't seem to draw enough air.

The odds of my pack finding me before Ravenscroft's forces grow slimmer with each passing second.

Even if they track my location, the facility's maze-like structure works against swift rescue. This realization draws a bitter laugh from my throat – after all our careful planning, my stubborn defiance may have doomed not just myself, but compromised the entire mission.

At least Subdivision D succeeded in reviving that omega from the flooding chamber.

The frantic radio chatter had confirmed her survival, though details remained frustratingly vague through the growing static in my earpiece.

Something about emergency resuscitation protocols and stabilizing vital signs.

The success should offer comfort, knowing we prevented at least one death in this hell. But my mind fixates on trackingher– on finding Nyx before retreating to the van.

The room of fallen guards had carried her scent, that bewitching sweetness lingering in the air like a ghost.

So close.

Yet still beyond reach.

I'd intended to check the remaining chambers on this level, desperate to ensure she hadn't been recaptured and sealed away in one of their torture rooms.

The blueprints burned into my memory guided each turn through the facility's corridors as I eliminated threats with mechanical efficiency.

Thirty bodies now lie cooling in my wake – guards and researchers alike falling to precise shots that offered no chance for mercy. Their deaths felt like justice, payment extracted for years of torturing omegas under the guise of scientific progress.

The experimental serum had worked better than expected, granting not just mobility but enhanced strength and reflexes. For one glorious hour, my body obeyed every command with fluid grace.

No hesitation, no weakness, no betrayal from failing nerves.

But such gifts always carry a price.

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