My Mate Protected His Mistress, Let Me Die

The rogue's red eyes gleamed with feral hunger as it coiled its massive body, preparing to spring.

Time slowed to a crawl. I saw every detail with crystalline clarity—the foam dripping from its yellowed fangs, the way its hackles rose along its spine, the madness that had consumed whatever humanity it once possessed.

Ten feet to my left, Ava stood frozen in her human form, that moonstone necklace glinting at her throat.

Behind us both, I heard the thunder of paws hitting earth—Damian's massive black wolf, racing toward the clearing with desperate speed.

The rogue lunged.

Not at me.

At Ava.

Damian's wolf crashed into the rogue mid-leap with the force of an Alpha's fury. They went down in a tangle of snarls and snapping jaws, rolling across the forest floor in a blur of black and matted gray fur. Damian positioned his body between the rogue and Ava, his fangs tearing into the attacker's throat with brutal efficiency.

I should have felt relief. Should have felt gratitude that my mate had arrived to protect the pack.

Instead, I felt the whisper of movement behind me—too late.

A second rogue exploded from the underbrush, its jaws aimed directly at my exposed back.

My wolf's instincts kicked in before my human mind could process. I dropped and rolled, my hand flying to the silver dagger I'd strapped to my thigh before the run—a precaution I'd taken after dying once already, after learning that no one would protect me when it mattered.

The rogue's teeth snapped shut on empty air where my neck had been a heartbeat before.

I came up in a crouch, the dagger glinting in my palm as the rogue whirled to face me. Its eyes were completely red now, no trace of rational thought left in them. Just hunger. Just violence.

It charged again.

I sidestepped and slashed, the silver blade catching it across the shoulder. The rogue howled, the sound echoing through the trees as smoke rose from the wound. Silver burned rogues worse than regular wolves—their madness made them more vulnerable to the blessed metal.

But it also made them more reckless.

The rogue came at me again and again, each attack more frenzied than the last. I dodged and parried, my movements precise and controlled despite my racing heart. I'd learned to fight in my past life, after Damian's protection proved worthless. I'd learned to survive alone.

Finally, I found my opening. As the rogue overextended on a lunge, I drove the silver dagger up through its jaw and into its brain.

It collapsed at my feet, twitching once before going still.

I stood there, breathing hard, blood—not mine—splattered across my arms and chest. My hands shook as I pulled the dagger free, but my mind was eerily calm.

Behind me, Damian's fight had ended too. I heard his wolf's heavy breathing, heard the soft whimpers of concern he made as he shifted back to human form.

"Ava. Ava, are you hurt? Did it touch you? Let me see—"

His voice was frantic, desperate, filled with the kind of concern I'd begged for a thousand times and never received.

I turned slowly.

Damian knelt beside Ava, his hands running over her arms and shoulders, checking for injuries with single-minded focus. She clutched at him, tears streaming down her face as she buried herself against his chest. The moonstone necklace caught the light as she trembled.

"I was so scared," she sobbed. "If you hadn't been there—"

"Shh. I've got you. You're safe now. I'll always protect you."

He didn't look at me. Didn't ask if I was injured. Didn't even acknowledge that I'd just killed a rogue single-handedly while he'd been too busy saving his chosen mate to notice I was in danger.

The dead rogue lay at my feet, silver dagger still embedded in its skull.

And my mate held another woman, promising her protection he'd never offered me.

Something inside my chest—something that had been cracked and bleeding for three years—finally shattered completely.

I pulled the dagger free and wiped it clean on the rogue's fur. My hands were steady now. My mind was crystal clear.

In my past life, this moment would have destroyed me. I would have screamed, cried, begged him to see me.

Now, I just felt cold certainty settling into my bones.

Damian Rogers would always choose Ava Gordon over me. He would always be a threat to my survival. And if I ever carried his pup again, he would choose her over our child too.

Just like he had before.

I turned and walked away from the clearing, leaving my mate to comfort the woman he truly wanted. Behind me, I heard him finally notice the second dead rogue, heard his confused question—"Who killed this one?"

But I was already gone, disappearing into the forest shadows.

Because tomorrow, I would do what I should have done three years ago.

I would reject him.

Formally. Publicly. Permanently.

And this time, nothing—not his Alpha command, not his confused wolf, not even the mate bond itself—would stop me from walking away.

The moon hung heavy overhead as I made my way back to the pack house, my decision settling over me like armor.

I was done dying for a bond that had never been real.