Page 172 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Battles we both suspect might be our last.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, fingers clutching at his shirt. "I never meant to mark Atlas. Never wanted to leave any of you with scars like Kieran carried. I didn't mean to set up more pain and heartbreak."

"Shhh," Dante soothes, his hand stroking my back in gentle circles. "That mark is different. It's proof of connection freely given, not manipulation or betrayal. Atlas wears it with pride."

Fresh tears spill at his words.

"But I'm still leaving. Still breaking whatever we started to build."

"No." The word emerges fierce and certain. "You're protecting our pack the only way available. Sacrificing your freedom to save Vale's life. That's not betrayal…that's loyalty beyond measure."

His fingers thread through my hair, the touch impossibly gentle despite the steel in his voice as he continues.

"And we're going to come back for you. We're going to fight every fucker who tries to stop us from saving you. This isn't the end, you hear me? It's just the beginning, and they're going to see the full extent of our wrath when we take back what's ours to claim."

The conviction in his tone steals my breath.

I want to argue, to point out the impossibility of fighting an organization as vast and powerful as Ravenscroft. But something in me recognizes the truth in his words—the absolute certainty that transcends mere promise.

These alphas don't make idle threats or empty declarations. When they say they'll come for me, they mean it with every fiber of their being.

"I'm scared," I admit in a barely audible whisper. "Not of returning...but of hope. Of believing in rescue only to have that hope stripped away day by day in those sterile halls."

Dante's arms tighten fractionally.

"Then let us carry that hope for you. Let us shoulder the weight while you focus on survival. We'll move heaven and earth to reach you—just hold on until we do."

"I never thought I'd find this," I whisper, voice thick with emotion. "Never imagined alphas could be like you all are. That pack bonds could feel like...like coming home rather than chains to be feared."

"You did find us though," Dante murmurs. "Found your way through hell itself to reach us. And we're not letting you go without one hell of a fight."

His certainty wraps around me like armor, offering protection against darker thoughts that threaten to overwhelm me. The shadows weave through his words with harmonic approval, their song carrying notes of destiny fulfilled rather than thwarted.

"You know," Dante murmurs against my hair, his voice carrying forced lightness, "I demand a rematch when you return. Need to see if you can still toss me across the room like that."

A watery laugh escapes between sobs. "Only if we get more cute stuffies to cushion your fall."

"Deal." His chest rumbles with gentle amusement. "I'll get you a whole room full. Stack them floor to ceiling until you can barely walk through the door. Create the ultimate landing zone for whenever you feel like throwing any of us around."

His hand continues its soothing path along my spine as he presses a gentle kiss to my temple. The gesture carries such tenderness it only makes fresh tears spill.

"You know what's funny?" he whispers after a moment of quiet. "I took so long to really open up to you. Kept thinking you'd be gone before I got the chance – that you'd find another group of alphas who had their shit together better than we do."

The admission catches me off guard, making me lift my head to meet his gaze. "Why would you think that?"

He's quiet for a long moment, fingers absent-mindedly playing with strands of my hair as he gathers thoughts.

"When I lost my hearing," he begins slowly, "it messed with my head in ways I didn't expect. The physical adjustment was one thing – learning to read lips, relying more on other senses, adapting to the implant's limitations. But the mental toll?" He shakes his head slightly. "That hit harder."

I stay quiet, giving him space to continue at his own pace. The shadows weave through the moment with gentle curiosity, their song carrying notes of understanding rather than their usual caution.

"I developed all this anxiety about being... less than. About not being enough." His voice drops lower, weighted with old pain. "Started thinking no omega would want an alpha who couldn't hear them properly. Who might miss important cues or fail to respond fast enough in emergencies."

My heart clenches at the vulnerability in his tone. "Dante..."

"It seems ridiculous now," he continues with slight self-deprecation. "All that worry about being perfect for some hypothetical omega, when real connection isn't about perfection at all."

His thumb brushes fresh tears from my cheek as he adds:

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