Page 19 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

Another projectile whizzes past. I let it graze my shoulder, using the sting to anchor myself in the present.

Can't afford to get lost in memories. Not during training.

Not ever.

But they come anyway.

The faces of men we served with.Good men.Strong alphas who believed in the cause. Who thought they were fighting for something that mattered.

Now they're just names on a mildly ivory wall.

If they're lucky enough to have names left.

Three more obstacles incoming.Drop into a roll, come up swinging.My body moves like a weapon, each motion precise and deadly.

Years of training…fighting…surviving.

For what?

Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging. The tattoos that cover my scars seem to writhe with each movement, ink flowing over damaged flesh like war paint.

Each of them carry a story…a reminder.

The ambush in Tehran.

That one for the firefight in Lagos.

The one over my heart for her…

Always for her.

Thirty-seven. To think that's how old I am now. Ancient by operative standards. Should have a pack by now…have pups and a mate, and a future that doesn't taste like blood and gunpowder.

Instead, I have these brothers who aren't brothers.

These damaged alphas who fight beside me because we're all too broken to fit anywhere else.

Ruined Alphas fated to die alone…

The training program cycles up to maximum difficulty. Projectiles come faster now. They’re harder to dodge and track, but the challenge has always reckons my senses.

Good.

Need the challenge.

The pain.

Anything to drown the screams ringing in the depths of my mind…

Because every time I close my eyes, I see them.

The little house on the hill.

The valley stretching green and endless.

Children's laughter carried on the summer breeze.

And her.

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