Page 96 of Knot Their Arrangement

In another time, another life, this would be our cue to run. That's what we did back then – two kids against the world, always one step ahead of the adults who sought to control us, the threats that lurked in every shadow and blended seamlessly into crowds.

But we're not in those familiar city streets anymore.

The forest offers limited options, its ancient trees both shelter and prison. Any path we choose will eventually lead to capture, to consequences we can't outrun forever.

My mind sluggishly attempts to calculate possibilities, to formulate escape routes and contingency plans. But every option feels like climbing a mountain with weights strapped to my limbs. The mere thought of running again exhausts me to my very core.

Riot frowns as my eyes begin to droop, concern flickering across his features.

The expression is so reminiscent of our shared past – of moments when he'd notice my fatigue during our late-night adventures and insist we find somewhere safe to rest.

I shake my head slowly, my neck stiff from injury and exhaustion.

"I don't want...to run anymore."

The words carry the weight of surrender, but they also bring unexpected relief.

I've spent so long running, surviving, and pushing through one crisis after another. There's a strange peace in finally admitting I've reached my limit.

Our eyes lock in a moment of silent communication.

I will him to understand what I've been through, to grasp the mountain of trauma and terror that's led me to this point of acceptance. To see that this isn't just exhaustion speaking, but a bone-deep weariness that no amount of rest could cure.

He gives a slight nod, and his hand moves toward his mask.

I expect him to replace it, to protect whatever identity he's built for himself in the years since we parted. He must have achieved some measure of that success he dreamed of – the mask alone speaks of resources far beyond what that teenage street racer could access.

My hand falls from his cheek reluctantly, already missing the warmth of that brief connection. Even that small touch had provided more comfort than I'd felt in months of running.

But instead of securing the mask back on his own face, he removes it completely.

Before I can process his intention, he's sliding it over my features with careful precision.

The world transforms through the mask's electronic display. Everything takes on an otherworldly quality, enhanced and illuminated in ways my normal vision could never achieve.

Through this technological lens, I see him with perfect clarity despite the rain and darkness.

His hair is a magnificent chaos of colors – purples, blacks, whites, and blues blending together in ways that should clash but somehow create perfect harmony.

The combination makes his artificial emerald eyes even more striking, like precious stones set in a revolutionary piece of art.

He's grown into his features, boyish charm replaced by sharp angles and deliberate style. But I don't get time to catalog all the changes years have wrought. His arms wrap around me suddenly, pulling me against him with protective urgency.

The firm pressure of his hand against my back feels like an anchor, holding me steady as the world continues to spin. His grip carries meaning beyond simple support – it's a statement of intent, a declaration of protection.

"Me too, Trouble," he whispers, his voice carrying that same weight of exhaustion and acceptance I feel in my own soul. "Let's stop running."

16

SCENT OF DESTINY

~RHETT~

"Trouble?"

The word escapes me before I can stop it, carried away by the rain that's turning this forest into a hunting ground. She stands before me, looking both exactly as I remember and completely transformed.

Her saree, though soaked and muddied, reminds me of that first night – how out of place she'd looked in her traditional dress, standing in that grimy alley like a pearl dropped in oil. The fabric might be different, but the effect is the same. Even disheveled and injured, she carries an innate grace that makes the rest of the world seem crude by comparison.

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