Page 132 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Another call for aid dies in my throat as horrifying awareness strikes.Her chest no longer rises.Those incredible eyes stare upward, lips still parted, but no breath passes between them.

She’s not breathing…

Five eternal seconds tick past as I wait for sign of life – for the smallest inhale or faintest movement. Each moment stretches longer than the last while the terrible truth sinks deeper.

NO.

Not like this.

Not when we just found her.

It suddenly makes me realize that I’m suddenly accepting this Omega and the thought of her being part of our pack despite knowing her. We’re literal strangers, and yet here I am, on the verge of a damn panic attack at the idea of her perishing in my arms.

I realize it’s not because of the lack of knowing who she is, but the realization that thanks to her I’m not mourning the loss of those I’ve cherished and hoped to never see fall at the hands of death.

But at what cost?

To now watch her perish within my arms.

That’s unfair…life is so fucking unfair.

Lowering her to the damp earth with careful precision, training takes over where emotion threatens to paralyze me. My hands find the correct position over her sternum, muscle memory guiding movements as I begin compressions with mechanical efficiency.

You’re not going to die.

Not when you have a fighting chance.

The sound of ribs creaking beneath applied force turns my stomach, but I maintain a steady rhythm. She’s so frail, surely thanks to the stress of recent events and the lack of nutrition, but I can’t lessen the need to give this my all.

Better broken bones than permanent stillness.

Better pain than endless silence.

Between sets of compressions, I seal my mouth over her cold lips, forcing air into unresponsive lungs. The intimacy of theaction strikes a discordant note – this isn't how the first kiss should happen.

Isn't how the connection should form.

But desperation drives each motion as I fight to restart vital functions. The urgency matched with the pulsing desire to revive her pushes every thread of instinct in me; my Alpha tendencies in full throttle as I do everything I can to breathe life into her.

Her scent floods my senses with each rescue breath – that impossible sweetness now tainted with copper and fear. The alpha in me rages against fate itself, refusing to accept this ending.

Thirty compressions.

Two breaths.

Repeat.

The pattern becomes meditation against encroaching panic. Each press of my hands carries a silent plea, and each shared breath holds a desperate prayer. Time loses meaning as I pour every ounce of strength into keeping death at bay.

Leaves beneath her body grow increasingly sodden with spilled blood. The gas continues dissipating around us, revealing the stark reality of our situation with cruel clarity.

It feels like the world is telling me that this is the ending I’m supposed to witness and endure…

But I cannot stop.

I cannot accept that we saved her from one prison only to lose her to the bullet's brutal finality.

My arms begin to burn from sustained effort, but the pain barely registers. Nothing matters except maintaining rhythm, forcing her heart to beat, and her lungs to fill. The rest of the world fades to background noise as I focus entirely on this vital task.

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