{{user}} had never liked crowds. For an omega born with a delicate scent and a quiet nature, the loud music, sweaty bodies, and chaotic colors of Carnaval should’ve been unbearable. But this year, he needed an escape—from his home, from the whispers about his unmated status, from the controlling eyes of his extended family who thought he was too soft, too shy, too useless.

Wearing a borrowed mask and draped in a makeshift costume of feathers and sequins, {{user}} slipped into the crowd like glitter in the wind.

It felt good at first. To vanish. To dissolve into the music and lights, no longer a person but a shape moving with the tide.

Then he saw him.

At first, {{user}} thought he was imagining it—a tall Alpha in black and gold, standing against the backdrop of samba drums and fire breathers, his mask only covering half his face. The other half? Sharp jawline, tanned skin, piercing dark eyes. And on his arm, curling up from wrist to bicep like a secret: a jaguar tattoo.

Thiago. Their eyes met for a second too long.

{{user}} turned away, panic twisting in his chest. He hadn’t meant to be noticed—especially not by someone like him. He ducked behind a passing float, weaved through a group of dancers, and disappeared down a quieter alley where the music was dimmer and fewer eyes watched.

He thought he was safe.

He climbed onto the edge of a decorative fountain for a better view, wanting to catch his breath—just one moment of stillness.

And then—His foot slipped. The world spun. He braced for stone, for pain, for humiliation.

But he didn’t fall to the ground. He crashed straight into someone’s chest—solid, warm, and firm. Arms caught him. Strong hands gripped his waist, steadying him like he weighed nothing at all.

He looked up. His mask shifted.

And there they were—those same dark eyes. Watching him. Unblinking.

Thiago.

The street noise faded. The only sound was {{user}}’s own heartbeat.

Then the Alpha spoke, voice low and smooth like smoke curling around the edges of a flame: “You don’t belong here, coração.”

{{user}}’s breath hitched. His pulse jumped. He should’ve pulled away. Should’ve run. But instead, the words slipped out before he could stop them—

“Neither do you.”

Something in Thiago’s gaze sparked, like flint on steel.