Page 55 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

"It would make her more marketable. A weapon that can be sheathed and drawn at will is more valuable than one that's always active."

"And more manageable," Vale adds. "They could demonstrate to potential buyers that she's mouldable, adaptable to whatever specific purpose they have in mind. A perfect balance of deadly capability and controlled submission."

"The perfect pet," Atlas says with quiet disgust. "Engineered to be whatever her owner demands."

"Fucking mindfuckery," Kieran spits out, starting to pace again.

His agitation fills the room like static electricity.

"This whole organization... it's not just abuse, it's the systematic destruction of everything human. Everything sacred." His voice rises with each word. "They're just omegas! Just people born into this fucked-up world! Why are they being victimized like this? What gives anyone the right to?—"

His fists clench at his sides, rage making his whole body tremble. We all feel it – this helpless fury at a system that allows such atrocities.

That categorizes some lives as disposable, and some beings as less than human.

I watch my packmates process this information, each in their own way:Atlas stands absolutely still, a predator scenting prey, his blindfolded face revealing nothing but the tension in his jaw.

Vale's fingers fly across his keyboard with increasing urgency, as if he could find answers in the endless stream of data.

Kieran paces like a caged wolf, his movements sharp with barely contained violence.

And me?

I touch my damaged ear, remembering how it feels to be irreparably changed by circumstances beyond your control.

Patient 495 didn't choose this fate any more than I chose to lose half my hearing. But while my damage was from a single explosive moment, hers has been carefully, systematically inflicted over years…

The thought makes me want to tear Ravenscroft apart with my bare hands.

"They're not born to fall into these circumstances," Atlas says, his quiet voice cutting through our collective rage. "They're submitted."

The word hits me like a physical blow, and my thoughts spill out before I can contain them.

"Submitted...meaning someone in their lives reported them. Someone deliberately put them in Ravenscroft."

Atlas nods slowly, the motion deliberate and heavy with meaning. The implications spread through the room like poison gas, stealing our breath as understanding dawns.

"You're telling me," Kieran whispers, his voice dangerous and low, "that someone in their lives – their family, their friends, people who should have protected them – decided that because they were an omega, or maybe just inconvenient, they deserved to be locked up in an asylum known for killing omegas in the name of research?"

Atlas doesn't answer immediately. I know his patterns well enough to recognize this as calculated restraint – he's giving Kieran's rage time to simmer rather than explode.

The silence stretches, becoming almost unbearable as we wait for confirmation of something too horrible to contemplate.

Finally, Atlas speaks, each word measured and precise.

"That's the only way they can be submitted. This isn't about criminal behavior – actual criminals go to actual prisons, face actual consequences. No one simply gets sent to Ravenscroft." His blindfolded face turns toward each of us in turn. "They're submitted after being deemed mentally unstable or incompatible with available packs. And that designation requires exhausting every possible pack option first."

"There's more to it," Vale says softly from his position by the computers. His fingers have stopped their endless typing, hovering motionless over the keyboard. "There's a pattern I've noticed. A... consistency in who gets targeted for these false accusations."

"What do you mean?" I ask, though something in his tone tells me I won't like the answer.

Vale's hands clench briefly before he forces them to relax.

"Those who don't fit the 'right' appearance as an omega – they're particularly vulnerable to these accusations. It's easier to make charges of instability stick when society has already decided someone doesn't look the part."

Frowns deepen around the room as we process this.

Vale sighs, then drops what feels like another bomb.

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