After My Mate Stole My Rogue Kill, I Defied Him

The applause faded like a dying echo.

Colin raised his hand, and the room went silent. That kind of instant obedience—it should have been earned through years of leadership, through blood and sacrifice. Instead, he'd bought it with my kills and worn it like a costume.

His expression shifted. Pained. Regretful. The face of a man about to do something difficult but necessary.

Valkyrie went still in my mind. Predator-still. Waiting.

"Before I take my oath," Colin said into the microphone, his voice carrying across the marble and crystal, "I need to address a household matter. Something I should have dealt with long ago."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I saw heads turning, eyes searching.

"Freya," he said, looking directly at me in the shadows. "Come here."

Not a request. A command.

I stepped forward.

The crowd parted like water, creating a path straight to the platform. I felt their stares—curious, pitying, hungry for drama. Mrs. Phillips stood near the front, her hand pressed to her chest in mock concern. Azalea watched with those sympathetic eyes, probably thinking Colin was about to let me down gently.

I didn't shuffle. Didn't bow my head or round my shoulders.

I walked.

One foot in front of the other, my spine straight, my steps measured and precise. The wine-stained dress clung to my skin, but I wore it like armor. My fingers brushed the necklace clasp at my throat.

Not yet. Not yet.

I climbed the stairs. The platform felt smaller than it looked from below, the lights hotter. Colin stood at the center, microphone in hand, looking down at me with something that might have been triumph.

I stopped three feet away. Close enough to hear him breathe. Close enough to smell the cologne he'd bought with my money.

He leaned in, away from the microphone, his voice dropping to a whisper only I could hear. "Don't make a scene. Just accept it and go."

I looked up at him. Said nothing.

He straightened, turning back to the crowd, and his voice filled the ballroom again.

"Freya, you have been a burden on my potential for too long." He gestured at me like I was evidence in a trial. "A Beta needs a strong mate, not a wolfless charity case."

Gasps. Whispers. Someone in the back actually laughed.

Colin turned to face the audience, playing to them like an actor on stage. "For the good of the Silvermoon Pack, I must make a hard choice. A choice that will allow me to serve you all better."

My fingers found the clasp. The silver burned.

Valkyrie's voice was a purr. *Now?*

"Not yet," I breathed.

Colin's voice shifted, taking on that forced Alpha tone—the one he'd practiced in the mirror, the one that sounded like a child imitating his father. It pressed against the room, making lower-ranked wolves flinch.

"I, Colin Phillips, Beta of Silvermoon, reject you, Freya Wright, as my mate."

The words hit like physical blows. The mate bond—weak as it was, strained as it had been—screamed in protest. Pain lanced through my chest, sharp and cold.

But I'd felt worse. I'd taken claws to the ribs, teeth to the shoulder, silver bullets through the thigh.

This was nothing.

Colin wasn't done. He stepped closer, his voice rising with each word. "I reject your weakness. I reject your poverty. I reject you."

The crowd held its breath.

Mrs. Phillips dabbed at her eyes. Azalea looked away, unable to watch. Alpha Marcus stood off to the side, his expression carefully neutral.

And on the balcony above, the Lycan Prince leaned forward, his golden eyes fixed on me with laser focus.

Colin waited. Expecting tears, probably. Expecting me to crumble, to beg, to make it easy for him.

Instead, I laughed.

Not a sob. Not a bitter chuckle.

A real laugh, bright and clear, that echoed through the silent ballroom like breaking glass.

Colin's face went pale. "Freya—"

I reached up and unclasped the necklace.

The silver fell away from my throat, and the world exploded.

My aura hit the room like a shockwave. Pure, undiluted Alpha power that I'd been suppressing for three years, compressed and concentrated and furious. It rolled out in waves, crushing down on every wolf in the ballroom.

The Deltas at the doors dropped to their knees. The she-wolves who'd laughed at me gasped and stumbled. Even Beta Harrison, standing near the front, went rigid, his wolf recognizing a superior predator.

Colin staggered backward, his eyes wide, his mouth open in shock.

And I smiled.

"My turn."