Page 17 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

The static in my ear crackles again, and this time the voice comes through clearer.

"...priority acquisition from Sector Seven. Subject shows unprecedented shadow manipulation. Terminate protocols authorized if extraction proves difficult..."

My blood runs cold.

They're going to kill her.

If we can't get her out clean, if she fights back too hard, if she's too damaged to be useful –they'll put her down like a rabid dog.

Kieran must see something in my face because he grabs my shoulder again, grounding me before the memories can drag me under.

"We won't let that happen," he says firmly.

I must have said that part out loud, for him to respond this way.

"You don't know that."

"No," he agrees. "But I know us. And I know what we can do when we have no choice."

Like crawling out of a grave.

Surviving the unsurvivable.

Defying every odd stacked against us.

My hands have stopped shaking, I realize. The phantom taste of dirt fades, replaced by determination.

By rage.

"Atlas have a plan yet?" I ask, focusing on the practical.

The possible.

Kieran's lips curve in a predator's smile.

"He always has a plan. Whether it's a good one..."

This is going to be hell. I bet a hundred fucking bucks.

"When is it ever?" I snort, but there's no real humor in it. We both know Atlas's plans tend to work, even if they're insane.

Insane means madness is working in our favor.

"Get some rest," Kieran says, squeezing my shoulder once before stepping back. "We move soon."

I nod, but we both know I won't sleep. Not with the memories so close to the surface. Not with the taste of dirt still lingering on my tongue.

Instead, I'll stay here, studying blueprints and listening to static, trying to piece together the puzzle that might keep us all alive.

And if the shadows grow longer and the walls feel closer, I'll remember:

I survived being buried alive.

I clawed my way out of hell itself.

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