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After My Mate Stole My Rogue Kill, I Defied Him Novel Cover

After My Mate Stole My Rogue Kill, I Defied Him

Elara, a fierce werewolf warrior, finds her hard-earned victory snatched away when her fated mate, Alpha Silas, intervenes to steal her rogue kill. This blatant act of disrespect shatters her expectations of their bond. Refusing to submit to his stifling dominance, she openly defies his authority. Their connection is tested as Elara fights for her autonomy, triggering a high-stakes clash between ancient loyalty and her personal pride.
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Chapter 1

The rain hammered down like bullets as I crouched in the mud, watching Ironclaw's massive silhouette move through the abandoned warehouse. My name is Freya Wright, and tonight, like every other night for the past three years, I wasn't the wolfless Omega wife everyone believed me to be.

I was The Shadow.

My wolf, Valkyrie, growled low in my mind. *End him quickly. We need to get home before Colin wakes.*

I knew. The Rogue General had a bounty of fifty thousand dollars on his head—exactly what we needed for Colin's Beta ceremony fees. The ceremony that would finally validate all my sacrifices. All the nights I'd spent hunting while he slept peacefully in our bed, believing I was just a weak, wolfless burden.

Ironclaw turned, and I struck.

My blade sang through the air, a silver arc in the darkness. He was fast—faster than the intelligence reports suggested—but I was faster. Three years of hiding hadn't dulled my skills. If anything, the suppression made me sharper, more focused. I ducked under his claws, felt them whistle past my ear, and drove my knife upward into the soft tissue beneath his jaw.

He gurgled, eyes wide with shock. Even in his final moments, he didn't recognize me. No one did anymore.

I twisted the blade and stepped back as he collapsed. The rain washed his blood into the mud, mixing with the dirt until it looked like rust-colored paint. I pulled out my phone, took the required proof photo of his distinctive scar pattern, and pocketed the silver tag from his neck. The Lycan Council would verify the kill by morning, and the money would be in my account by noon.

*Fifty thousand dollars,* I thought, wrapping my ribs where his claws had caught me. The wounds were already healing—Alpha regeneration was one thing I couldn't fully suppress, though I'd gotten good at hiding it. *Fifty thousand dollars for Colin's future.*

For our future.

Valkyrie snarled. *There is no 'our' future with that weakling. You know this.*

I ignored her. I'd been ignoring her for three years.

The drive home was a blur of rain and streetlights. I parked two blocks away, as always, and slipped through the servant's entrance of the Phillips' house. My tactical gear went into the hidden compartment beneath the basement stairs—the one Mrs. Phillips didn't know existed because she'd never deigned to do her own laundry.

I'd just pulled on my worn nightgown when I heard footsteps above.

Colin was awake.

I climbed the stairs, my heart hammering for entirely different reasons now. The adrenaline from the kill was fading, replaced by the familiar anxiety of my domestic masquerade.

"Freya!" Colin's voice echoed through the hallway. "Where the hell have you been?"

I found him in our bedroom, preening in front of the full-length mirror. The new Beta sash gleamed across his chest—deep blue with silver threading. He looked... proud. Powerful. Nothing like the broken, bleeding wolf I'd saved on that rainy night three years ago.

"I couldn't sleep," I said softly, keeping my eyes down. "I was in the kitchen, preparing for tomorrow's gathering."

He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like rain. And mud. It's disgusting." He turned back to the mirror, adjusting his sash. "Iron my ceremonial cloak. The gathering is tomorrow night, and I need to look perfect. Alpha Stone will be watching, and I can't have you making me look bad."

Valkyrie roared in my mind. *Rip his throat out. Show him what real power looks like.*

I swallowed the growl that wanted to escape. "Of course. I'll do it right now."

"Good." He didn't even look at me. "And Freya? Try to stay in the background tomorrow. I know you can't help being wolfless, but... people talk. It reflects poorly on me."

Each word was a knife, but I'd learned to take them without flinching. "I understand."

His success was our success. His rank was our rank. That's what I told myself as I carried his cloak downstairs, my hands steady despite the rage burning in my chest.

The next evening, I stood in the pack house kitchen, my fingers working automatically to arrange hors d'oeuvres on silver platters. The gathering would start in an hour. Colin was somewhere upstairs, probably admiring himself in another mirror.

I reached for the spice cabinet and found it empty. The pantry. I needed the good saffron from the pantry.

I pushed through the swinging door into the narrow storage room, and that's when I heard them. Colin's voice, and his mother's, filtering through the thin wall that separated the pantry from the sitting room.

"—finally rid of her," Mrs. Phillips was saying. "That wolfless waste of space has been dragging you down for too long."

I froze, my hand halfway to the saffron tin.

"I know, Mother." Colin's laugh was light, easy. Like we were discussing the weather. "Freya's been... useful, I suppose. But now that I'm Beta, I need a proper mate. Someone with status. Azalea Stone is perfect."

"She's the Alpha's daughter," Mrs. Phillips purred. "Mating with her will secure your position permanently. You'll be untouchable."

"Exactly. And Freya..." He paused, and I could picture him waving his hand dismissively. "She's just a stain on my reputation now. A useless placeholder. I'll reject her at the gathering tomorrow. Publicly. Make it clear that I'm available for a better match."

The saffron tin slipped from my fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud that they didn't hear.

Valkyrie's voice was ice and fury. *Now do you believe me?*

I backed out of the pantry silently, my heart no longer racing. It had stopped entirely, frozen into something hard and cold and sharp.

Three years. Three years of hunting, bleeding, sacrificing. Three years of suppressing everything I was so he could feel like a man.

And I was a stain. A placeholder. Useless.

I looked down at my hands—hands that had killed Ironclaw less than twenty-four hours ago. Hands that had earned every dollar that paid for Colin's training, his education, his precious Beta ceremony.

I touched the silver necklace at my throat. The one that masked my scent and suppressed my aura. The one that made me invisible.

*Not anymore,* Valkyrie whispered.

I smiled, and it felt like baring teeth.

The gathering was tomorrow night. Colin wanted to reject me publicly?

Perfect.

Let him try.

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