Page 112 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

His fingers find my chin, tilting my face upward with surprising gentleness.

"You may be the M.U.S.E. they forced you to become, but you don't need to continue being bound by their identity of you, Nyx," he whispers. "Head up high, little Goddess. In my presence, you're as worthy as a Queen that deserves to be worshipped and praised."

He steps closer, his imposing height making me feel simultaneously small and protected.

"When this is done and we're out of here alive, you're going to see how it feels to be treated like a true Omega. Loved, adored, and cherished so much that you'll never wish to aim a gun at yourself again. I can promise you that. I vow it."

His words steal my breath, offering more comfort than I dare acknowledge. He seals his promise with a kiss before pressing his lips to my forehead.

Then his head tilts, catching sounds I can't yet hear.

"We need to move. Company's coming."

Turning toward the door, he takes a step forward. Before I can stop myself, my hand reaches for his - a gossamer-light touch that nevertheless freezes him in place.

He looks back slightly, giving me a glimpse of his silk-wrapped gaze.

"Thank you," I whisper, meaning deeper than words can express. "For…stopping me."

His simple nod carries volumes of understanding, but I watch the transformation happen - the tender warmth draining away as mission mode takes over. His posture shifts, tension replacing ease as he focuses on the deadly task ahead.

This is the alpha who infiltrated Ravenscroft, who leads others into battle, who will tear through anyone standing between us and freedom. The change should frighten me, but instead, it offers its own kind of comfort.

Because this lethal focus, this coiled readiness for violence - it's all directed toward keeping me safe.

Toward ensuring we both leave this place alive.

The shadows stir for the first time since his arrival, but not with their usual warnings or songs. Instead, they seem to approve of this alpha who can be both gentle and deadly, who offers both tenderness and protection.

Who sees me as more than their M.U.S.E.

"Follow my lead," Atlas instructs with quiet authority. "If you sense anyone behind us, move ahead and I'll handle them."

"Should I help with direction if needed?" The question comes naturally, though years of conditioning make me brace for rejection.

His smirk carries unexpected warmth.

"Your call. You probably know this place better than I could ever grasp."

"You won't be offended? An Omega giving directions?"

"Any Alpha who feels insulted when an Omega needs to step up into a role that a man should, proves he's insecure and hates being proven otherwise." His response carries absolute conviction. "Order me around all you want, even if I might be stubborn about some things."

My answering smirk feels foreign but right as we lock into mission mode. The gun feels natural in my grip while Atlascarries an impressive array of weaponry, ready for whatever awaits us.

Following his lead through the corridors, I'm amazed at how confidently he navigates this labyrinth despite never having been here before.

He must have memorized the blueprints extensively, which complements my intimate knowledge of these walls. Six years of captivity have burned every turn and passage into my memory.

I know the exits - not the nearest ones, but the ones most likely to lead to actual freedom rather than more elaborate traps.

Rounding a corner, we encounter a sight that makes my blood run cold - the group of lab coats who've taken such pleasure in my suffering over the years.

Their lead researcher's eyes widen in recognition.

"Patient 495?" His shock quickly morphs into that familiar cruel excitement. "She's escaping! Get her!"

Atlas's response comes in a spray of bullets, forcing our tormentor to duck while three of his colleagues fall.

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