The Alpha’s Omega

Chapter Five : The Wolf’s Reputation

Fernanda barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that Polaroid—her own image, her own window—captured without her knowing.

By morning, the air in her apartment felt too heavy, too close. She needed answers. And there was only one person she trusted enough to ask: Mateo.

Mateo worked as a lighting tech on several shoots she’d done in the past. Older, gruff, and fiercely private, he had a way of knowing things—especially about people in the industry. If anyone had heard of Ace Varela, it would be him.

She called him and asked to meet at a small café near the river. When she arrived, he was already there, sipping black coffee like it was fuel.

“You look like hell,” he said without greeting.

“Thanks,” she muttered, sliding into the seat across from him. “I need to ask you something. And I need the truth.”

His eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

“Do you know an Ace Varela?”

The change in Mateo was immediate. His jaw tightened, and his fingers stilled around the coffee cup. “Where’d you hear that name?”

“I… met him. Yesterday. He came to my studio for a shoot.”

Mateo’s voice dropped. “Ace Varela doesn’t do photo shoots. Not with Omegas. Not with anyone unless there’s a reason.”

Fernanda’s pulse jumped. “What kind of reason?”

Mateo leaned in, his tone flat. “He’s not just a True Alpha, Fernanda. He’s pure-blood, the old kind. The kind that can’t be challenged. People say he’s dangerous because… he doesn’t always control himself. And when he decides something—or someone—is his, there’s no stopping him.”

Her mouth went dry. “So he—”

“Listen to me,” Mateo cut in. “If he’s taken an interest in you, you don’t run. You don’t fight. You keep him calm, you keep your head down, and you pray he gets bored.”

Fernanda’s stomach turned. “And if he doesn’t?”

Mateo’s gaze was grim. “Then you’d better hope you can survive being wanted by Ace Varela.”

Before she could respond, her phone vibrated on the table. A message from that same unknown number.

Ace Varela: I hope you’re not asking about me, little Omega. That would make me… curious.

Mateo saw the screen. “It’s already too late.”

Fernanda’s hand tightened around her phone until her knuckles whitened. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

Mateo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You didn’t reply, did you?”

She shook her head quickly, but her silence told him she was already rattled.

Mateo leaned back, scanning the café like he was expecting trouble to walk in at any moment. “He’s not the type to text. If he’s sending messages, it means he’s already too close to you. And Ace doesn’t bluff.”

A chill slid down her spine. “Too close how?”

“Too close,” he said flatly. “As in… already in your orbit. Already watching. Maybe even closer than you think.”

Fernanda swallowed hard. “You make it sound like I’m prey.”

Mateo met her gaze without flinching. “To Ace Varela, you are.”

Her phone buzzed again.

Ace Varela: You look beautiful in red.

Fernanda’s stomach dropped. She glanced down at herself—she was wearing a red sweater. Her head snapped toward the café windows, but all she saw were blurred reflections in the glass and people walking by.

Mateo followed her gaze, his face tightening. “He’s not just watching you, Fernanda. He’s here.”

And then—so subtle it could have been her imagination—she thought she caught the flash of familiar eyes, gold like molten heat, in the crowd outside.

When she turned back to Mateo, his jaw was set. “You need to decide right now—are you going to face him… or hide?”

Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steadier than she felt.

“Neither,” she said quietly. “I’m going to find out why he’s here.”

Mateo didn’t look convinced. “Careful, Omega. The last person who tried to understand Ace Varela ended up in his bed.”

She tried to ignore the heat rushing to her cheeks—but deep down, she feared that might already be where this was heading.

Mateo stood up suddenly, tossing a few bills onto the table. “We need to leave. Now.”

Fernanda blinked. “Why? You think he’s just—”

“I don’t think, Fernanda,” he cut in. “I know.”

They stepped outside into the sharp bite of morning air, the sounds of the city swirling around them. Fernanda scanned the crowd, her pulse hammering in her ears.

And then she felt it—before she saw him. That prickle along her skin, the pull in her gut, the instinctive recognition of an Alpha’s focus.

Ace was leaning against a black SUV parked at the curb, his posture relaxed but his gaze locked on her like she was the only person in the street. The sunlight caught in his hair, turning the dark strands to liquid gold, but his eyes… oh God, his eyes were exactly as she remembered—piercing, molten, and entirely unblinking.

Mateo swore under his breath. “Get in the cab,” he ordered, already signaling one from the road.

But Fernanda couldn’t move. Ace’s mouth curved into the faintest smile, the kind that promised trouble. He didn’t speak, didn’t step forward—just watched her, as if daring her to take the first move.

A taxi pulled up beside them, breaking the moment. Mateo’s hand closed around her arm, steering her toward the open door.

She stumbled in, her pulse thundering, but just before the cab pulled away, she looked back through the window.

Ace was still there, still watching. And as the SUV’s tinted door opened behind him, she caught the glint of a sharp, satisfied smile.

Mateo’s voice was a growl beside her. “You should have never met his eyes.”