Page 2 of Knot Their Fated M.U.S.E

They don’t need to know the real plan. The true motives of my return.

"Not even your sister's new pack?"

My steps falter momentarily, composure cracking at the mention of those four alphas who looked at me with such desperate hope when I appeared from swirling gas.

Atlas with his covered eyes seeing more than anyone should.

Kieran's recognition of something familiar in my features.

Dante's tactical assessment burning beneath his surface charm.

Vale – already haunted by impending death – fighting for each breath.

The confrontation with them was enough. They wouldn’t understand now, which is the point of this endeavor and interference, but time will force them to learn the truth.

It’ll be too late by then, but for now, I simply need the world to play along.

"Especially not them," I say firmly, pushing away sentiment with practiced ease. "They've suffered enough for our family's sins."

The perimeter fence stands fifty yards ahead, cameras tracking my approach with mechanical precision. Guards will already be mobilizing, weapons drawn and orders shouted through communication systems. The signature pink contract I signed in my sister's place sits folded in my pocket – insurance against immediate execution.

"You don't have to do this," Maverick tries one last time, desperation creeping into his usually controlled voice. "There are other ways?—"

"No," I cut him off, certainty like steel in my tone. "There's only ever been one path for me. I just took a six-year detour through someone else's life first."

The earpiece goes silent, his resignation palpable even through miles of digital connection.

My smirk returns as I lift my hands in surrender, stepping deliberately into the harsh spotlight that paints me in clinical illumination.

Watch me carefully, Charles Press. I'm not the omega you were expecting.

Guards pour from security stations with military precision, weapons trained on center mass as they surround me in perfect formation. Their shouts blur into meaningless noise as my focus narrows to the asylum entrance where a figure in expensive Italian leather emerges.

His cold smile stretches across surgically enhanced features, recognition dawning as he takes in my reversed coloring and confident stance.

"Welcome home, Patient 496," he calls, voice carrying that same cultured cruelty I remember from childhood nightmares. "Or should I say... Jinx Blackwood?"

My answering smile holds all the secrets I've carried for six long years, all the vengeance I've planned while wearing another woman's life like ill-fitting clothing.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me," I respond, allowing guards to secure my wrists with familiar restraints. "And I've come to collect."

The metal doors close behind us with finality that should terrify any sane person. Instead, something wild and broken inside me finally settles into place, recognizing these halls, these scents, these shadows as home.

I've returned to where I truly belong. To the alphas who were promised to me before fate made its terrible mistake.

My destiny waits in the depths of Ravenscroft Asylum. And this time, I won't let anyone tear us apart.

ONE

WHISPERS FROM THE PAST

~JINX~

~On the Nature of Daylight — Orchestral Version~

Max Richter, Lorenz Dangel

The straitjacket embraces me like a lover –too tight in all the right places, restricting in ways that make my skin crawl with perverse satisfaction.

---