Chapter Nine : Breaking Point
996 Words
The next morning, Fernanda woke before dawn, her mind restless, body humming in the aftermath of dreams she couldn’t quite piece together. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his voice still tangled in her thoughts.
She told herself it was just curiosity. A professional interest. That any photographer might feel drawn to such a rare subject—someone who carried themselves like danger in human form.
But deep down, she knew that wasn’t it.
When her phone buzzed, she flinched.
ACE: Coffee. Ten a.m. Don’t say no.
Her stomach twisted. He didn’t ask—he summoned. Like he already knew she’d obey.
Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard. She could tell him she was busy. She could make an excuse.
Instead, she typed:
FERNANDA: Where?
The reply came instantly, like he’d been waiting.
ACE: You’ll know when you get there.
⸻
Ten a.m. found her walking down a narrow side street she’d never noticed before. At the end of it sat a small, dimly lit café, the kind of place that felt tucked away from the rest of the world.
Ace was already there, seated at a table in the back. The morning light from the window hit him just right—sharp jawline, dark hair falling over one brow, those eyes fixed entirely on her.
She swallowed. Danger in human form.
“Sit,” he said, voice low but carrying easily over the quiet murmur of the café.
She did.
He slid a cup across the table toward her. “Vanilla latte. Figured you’d like it.”
She blinked. “How would you know that?”
His mouth curved slightly. “I pay attention.”
Her cheeks warmed. She took a sip, letting the sweet, warm liquid distract her for exactly two seconds before his next words landed.
“You’ve been trying to avoid me.”
She bristled. “I have not—”
“Yes, you have,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair. “And that’s fine. You should avoid me.”
Her pulse jumped. “Why?”
He smiled, but it wasn’t kind—it was sharp, edged with something almost dangerous. “Because when I stop holding back, little Omega… there will be no avoiding me at all.”
The café suddenly felt too small. Too warm.
She tried to look away, but his gaze pinned her in place. She hated that her body reacted first, heat curling low in her belly before her mind could even protest.
And then, as if sensing exactly how close she was to breaking, he leaned forward.
“Drink your coffee, Fernanda,” he murmured. “We have a lot to talk about.”
She swallowed hard. “About what?”
His grin was slow, deliberate. “About why you can’t seem to stay away from me.”
She tried for a laugh, but it came out thin. “You’re awfully confident, Ace. Maybe I’m just here for the caffeine.”
“You’re here because I called,” he said, matter-of-fact, as if the truth didn’t need softening. “And because something in you is curious enough to risk sitting in front of me, even when you know you shouldn’t.”
She straightened, folding her arms. “You think I’m afraid of you?”
He tilted his head. “No. I think you’re afraid of yourself when you’re around me.”
Her pulse roared in her ears. She hated how his words found their way under her skin, how they made her chest tighten and her throat dry.
She was about to speak when he leaned in, elbows braced on the table, his voice dropping to a near-whisper meant only for her.
“I know what you are, Fernanda. And I know what you’ve been told about Alphas like me.”
Her breath caught. “I—”
“I also know,” he continued, eyes glinting, “that the moment I walked into that studio, your scent changed. You can pretend it didn’t, but I felt it. And you felt mine.”
Heat climbed her neck, settling in her cheeks. She tried to look anywhere but at him, but his gaze demanded hers, holding it with a quiet authority that made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of something vast and irreversible.
“You don’t know me,” she said finally, voice softer than she intended.
“I know enough,” he countered, his lips curving slightly. “Enough to know you’re not just any Omega. You’re my Omega.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “That’s—”
“Not up for debate,” he cut in smoothly, his tone not unkind but firm, immovable. “And you know it.”
The air between them thickened. Fernanda’s mind scrambled for something, anything to break the tension, but before she could speak, he reached across the table and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand.
It was barely a touch—soft, fleeting—but it burned like a spark catching tinder.
She jerked her hand back, breath shaky. “You can’t just say things like that.”
Ace’s smile deepened, slow and knowing. “I don’t ‘just say’ anything, little Omega. When I speak, I mean it.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, the café’s background noise fading until it felt like they were the only two people in the world.
Finally, he leaned back, letting the moment breathe. “Finish your coffee. Then we’re going somewhere.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where?”
“You’ll see,” he said, standing and sliding on his jacket. “But if you’re going to keep running from me, you should at least know what you’re running from.”
And before she could protest, he was already walking toward the door, leaving her with a half-empty latte, a pounding heart, and a choice she didn’t remember agreeing to make.
- Writer
