Page 5 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

I can hear the leather of his jacket strain as he leans forward, suddenly alert.

"M.U.S.E.? Thought those were just rumors."

"Apparently not." My fingers find the designation again. "Patient 495. They've been running trials on her for years."

The pressure in the room changes again.

Two more distinct patterns approach.

Kieran's footsteps are nearly silent, a predator's walk. But I can feel the slight tremor in the floorboards, the way he favors his right side. The phantom pain of his broken bond makes him walk like he's carrying an invisible weight.

Vale's gait is more pronounced. The shuffling drag of his deteriorating legs, the subtle tap of his cane against the floor. He tries to hide it, but I can hear the way his breath catches with each step. The disease is progressing faster than he wants to admit.

"Started without us?" Vale's voice is tight with pain as he eases himself into another chair. The metal legs scrape against the floor – third chair from the left, his usual spot.

Kieran doesn't sit.He never does during mission briefs.Instead, he takes up his position by the window. I can feel the cold draft from where he's cracked it open.

He always needs an escape route, even here in our own base.

"Just preliminary review," I say, pushing the papers aside. "But this one's different."

"Different how?" Kieran's voice is quiet, measured. He doesn't speak often, but when he does, we all listen.

"Target is an omega," I reply. "But not just any omega. She's been designated as a M.U.S.E."

The tension in the room spikes.

I can hear Vale's sharp intake of breath, the way Dante's heart rate kicks up a notch. Even Kieran's usually steady presence wavers.

"Mentally insane," Vale murmurs.

"Unsatisfactory," Dante adds, followed by another wet cough.

"Scentless," Kieran whispers, and I can hear the frown in his voice.

"Excelled," I finish. "They've been experimenting on her, trying to enhance whatever abilities caught their attention. By abilities, I believe it’s a code name for satanic witchcraft or whatever that shit is that’s portrayed in shows with the fucking board. The reports mention shadow manipulation, though the details are vague."

"Shadow manipulation?" Dante scoffs, but there's an edge of unease in his voice. "Code word for witch fanatic who’s psycho. Brilliant.”

"So were M.U.S.E.’s, until about five minutes ago," Vale points out, making it seem like we all lot in the same poolof mental insanity and dark magic theatrics. His cane taps thoughtfully against the floor. "What else do we know about her?"

My fingers find the relevant section again.

"Name's Nyx Blackwood, though they only refer to her as Patient 495. Age unknown, but estimated early twenties. No living family on record. She's been in Ravenscroft for at least six years, possibly longer."

"Six years?" The horror in Vale's voice is palpable. "In that hellhole?"

I nod grimly.

We've all heard the stories about Ravenscroft.

The experiments. The trials. The screams that echo through its halls.

"There's more," I say, tracking across the page. "They've been starving her. Running increasingly dangerous trials. The last few reports indicate she's becoming unstable. Their word, not mine."

"Shocking," Dante drawls, but the sarcasm can't quite mask his anger. "Lock someone up, torture them for years, and they become unstable. Who would've thought?"

"What's the extraction plan?" Kieran asks, always focused on the practical aspects.

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