Page 114 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

"You're not a burden. You're motivation for me to keep going, so you shouldn't think that way."

The conviction in his voice carries absolute certainty that transcends logical argument or tactical assessment.

Not false reassurance or empty comfort, but genuine belief expressed with intensity that makes further protest seem almost insulting.

"You're our omega," he continues with quiet authority that speaks to fundamental truth rather than designation politics or biological imperative. "We may be rather hyper-independent, but that doesn't mean your existence isn't validated. Your presence makes us stronger, not weaker, regardless of temporary physical limitations or recovery requirements."

Warmth spreads through my chest at his words—not just relief but deeper recognition of value that extends beyond immediate tactical utility or strategic contribution.

The pack dynamic I'd theorized about and hoped for but never truly experienced until these precious moments of genuine connection.

A loud ding echoes through the artificial forest with electronic precision that seems jarring against organic surroundings. The sound carries institutional authority that transforms peaceful sanctuary into reminded containment, peaceful rest into tactical preparation for whatever challenge awaits.

Riot's entire body shifts with instant alertness—muscles tensing beneath my cheek as enhanced senses activate with combat readiness that bypasses conscious thought to access survival protocols honed through years of systematic conditioning.

"It's time," he announces with grim satisfaction that suggests anticipation rather than dread at approaching confrontation.

"Time for what?" I ask, confusion cutting through my own awakening awareness as he moves with fluid efficiency tostanding position while maintaining secure grip that prevents falling or stumbling.

His assistance brings me upright with gentle strength that makes the transition effortless despite lingering pharmaceutical effects and physical weakness.

Enhanced alpha capability directed toward protective care rather than tactical dominance, power applied with consideration rather than overwhelming force.

"Judgment time," he responds with a predatory smile that transforms his features from protective to dangerous in a heartbeat. The expression carries anticipation that speaks to reunion with a pack member rather than approaching threat or institutional challenge.

Before I can process implications or ask clarifying questions, movement draws my attention to previously invisible architecture emerging from forest camouflage with mechanical precision.

A door materializes from what appeared to be solid tree trunk—sophisticated concealment that speaks to advanced engineering rather than simple visual deception.

"This door only opens once a day," Riot explains as he takes my hand with a firm grip that communicates both protection and urgency. "Which is why it made sense to walk around for five hours. I didn't want them to suspect that I knew where it leads."

Understanding dawns with appreciation for tactical thinking that operates beyond immediate gratification in favor of long-term strategic advantage.

He'd known our destination from the beginning but waited for optimal timing rather than revealing knowledge that might compromise future navigation or trigger enhanced security protocols.

The door swings open to reveal a sterile corridor that contrasts sharply with the organic environment we're leaving behind.

Fluorescent lighting and reinforced walls speak to the return to institutional reality after brief respite in artificial nature—reminder that sanctuary represents temporary illusion rather than genuine escape from systematic containment.

Riot pulls me behind him with protective urgency that suggests approaching danger despite our progress toward reunion with our pack member. His body language radiates alert readiness that makes my pulse quicken with sympathetic response to perceived threat.

"Time to see our executor of judgment alpha in action," he states with grim anticipation that makes my heart race with mixture of excitement and concern.

We move through sterile corridors with purpose that speaks to clear destination despite unfamiliar territory. His navigation carries confidence that transcends visual confirmation—enhanced spatial awareness guiding steps through institutional maze with accuracy that suggests innate understanding rather than memorized routes.

The hallways stretch in characteristic institutional monotony—polished floors reflecting harsh lighting, reinforced barriers marking security checkpoints, surveillance equipment tracking movement with mechanical precision that never sleeps or shows mercy.

But something feels different about this level compared to previous institutional architecture.

The construction carries greater sophistication, enhanced security measures that speak to higher-value containment or more dangerous subjects requiring specialized protocols.

We reach what appears to be a secure entrance—reinforced door with advanced locking mechanisms and monitoringsystems that suggest restricted access rather than general passage.

Riot positions me carefully beside the threshold before meeting my gaze with an expression that carries both protectiveness and determination.

"You need to stay here while I cause some chaos," he instructs with authority that brooks no argument despite concern evident in his tone. "Whatever you do, don't let strangers in here."

The instruction triggers immediate confusion about practical implementation and tactical reasoning behind such precaution.

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