~María José’s Point Of View~
I had never met anyone like Mateo in my father’s villa. No one had ever spoken to me so boldly or with such genuine care.
I was either the pampered princess or the worthless Omega. It was refreshing speaking to someone who saw the real me beneath all the man-made labels.
No one had ever looked at me the way he did.
As if I were something delicate but unbreakable. As if I were worth something.
I sat there in the darkness, surrounded by the thick scent of hay and the ever-present ugh stink of the pigs, yet somehow, I felt safer than I had in weeks.
Mateo, as I knew him—sat beside me. It was funny how the presence of this worker was a stark contrast to everything around us.
He was the most unique staff my father had ever hired after Juana. Moon Goddess help me... he was simply the best. He didn’t belong here, not in this filth, not in this disgrace, I did.
And yet, he had stayed.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, watching him from beneath my lashes. He wasn’t like the men in my father’s villa—the brutes who obeyed without question, who feared my father more than they cared for anything else.
He didn’t carry himself like them, didn’t look at me the way they did these days. There was no contempt in his gaze, no mocking, no judgment.
There was something else instead. Something warm. Something crazily mysterious.
I should have been afraid.
"You’re staring again," Mateo murmured, his voice carrying that husky, engaged lilt that made my stomach flutter against my will.
I blinked, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. "I wasn’t—"
"You were." He smirked, leaning back on one elbow, his body shifting gracefully in the straw. "It’s alright, preciosa. I’m quite used to it."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Dios mío. How do you even fit through doors with a head that big?"
I couldn’t believe that after such a long day, I was actually cracking jokes. Nothing would have prepared me for this refreshing turn of events.
Or for this beautiful man.
He placed a hand over his chest, mock-wounded. "You wound me."
"You’ll survive," I muttered, hugging my knees tighter.
His smirk lightened into something more thoughtful. "You like having me here, don’t you?"
What in the name of bluntness was that?!
I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure how to.
But I did like having him here. Who wouldn’t?
His presence made the filth and the shame of the pigsty feel... bearable. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel completely and utterly alone.
But was his presence really what I truly desired despite how entertaining and consolatory it was?
Or could it be that of another? The first man to ever stand up for me. The one who made my heart flutter.
His smirk widened. "I knew it."
I nudged a loose straw toward him with my foot. "Oh, shut up."
He chuckled, but then his expression turned pensive. "You don’t deserve this, you know."
I swallowed hard. "It’s just discipline."
His eyes darkened. "It’s cruelty."
The conviction in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was odd—he was a stranger, and yet, he cared. Or at least, he seemed to.
And that terrified me.
Because what if I started to care, too?
What if I began to care about how I was treated in this pack? What if I began to desire justice?
I’m an Omega. Justice was never ours to take. But Mateo... God sent Mateo was being so sweet, I couldn’t help my thoughts.
My mind betrayed me then, conjuring the image of another man—Axel. The man who I so dearly wanted. The one whom my sister would definitely steal away from me.
The thought of it made my heart sink. I wish I could glue a poster that says; Stay away from him! He’s mine! On Axel’s forehead and have him walk around the pack in it.
I should have been thinking about Mateo. Should have been spending my time here being so grateful for his care and support during this gore experience.
But all I could think about was Axel.
It made me feel like a villain, a traitor to a kind soul. Tell me, why was I wishing for a man whom my sister loved, and was certainly off limits when there was one right in front of me, looking at me like I was everything?
I hated Álvaro for making me feel like I wasn’t enough.
I hated myself for wishing Axel was my mate or wishing that I had a wolf deserving of being mated at all.
I exhaled softly, shaking off the thought.
"I should sleep," I murmured, rubbing my eyes.
Mateo tilted his head and shrugged. "Then sleep."
I arched my eyebrows. "With the pigs here?"
He smirked, scratching his chin. "I could stand watch. Make sure none of them try to take advantage of your innocence."
I gaped at him. "They’re pigs, Mateo!"
He shrugged. "I don’t trust them."
"You’re being so kind, what do I do?"
"And you’re adorable when you laugh," he shot back, entirely unfazed.
I turned my back to him before he could see the flush on my cheeks. "Buenas noches (goodnight), Mateo."
"Sleep tight, preciosa. Sleep well.
And, somehow, despite everything—the dirt, the cold, the nightmare my life had become—I did sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to screaming.
Loud, panicked, horrified screaming.
I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I turned to see the man who tended to the pigs—Julián—standing at the entrance of the sty, his face pale and his eyes widened with terror.
I frowned, confused. "¿Qué pasa? What’s going on?"
His gaze snapped to me, wild with accusation. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
I flinched. "¿Qué? I don’t understand you."
He pointed a trembling finger.
I followed it—and my jaw dropped. Oh, no.