The Scarred Mate

The Fight For Honor

Everyone was watching me. The fire popped and hissed, throwing sparks into the night air, and all eyes were fixed on the bottle lying between Ansel and Nelson. My pulse thundered in my ears. I didn’t even remember agreeing to play this stupid game. Clara’s elbow nudged my ribs.

“Go on, Lupa,” she whispered. “Pick one.”

My mouth went dry. Both of them, Ansel, sitting calm and steady, his eyes glowing amber in the firelight, and Nelson, leaning forward with that cocky smirk, were waiting for my answer.

“No,” I said, standing so fast the log under me rolled. “I won’t kiss either of them.”

The circle went silent. The firelight caught the surprised looks flashing from one face to another. Then the whispers started. I didn’t wait to hear them. I turned and stomped away, the heat crawling up my neck.

Fate is messing with me, I thought bitterly. And she’s a mean, mean woman.

“Lupa, wait!”

Ansel’s voice chased after me. I kept walking, my boots crunching over dry leaves, but his footsteps were fast. Then his hand closed gently around my arm, not tight, just enough to make me stop. His touch burned straight through the sleeve of my sweater, sending a jolt through me that I tried hard to ignore.

“Don’t go,” he said, breathless. His eyes searched mine, worry flickering behind them. “You don’t have to run.”

I pulled my arm back, hugging it close to my chest. “I’m not running.”

Before he could answer, another voice cut through the night. “What, you need to chase down a girl to kiss her?” Nelson’s tone was sharp, mocking. He stalked toward us, his fists clenched, jaw tight. “You’re a f*****g loser.”

“Hey, now, Nelson,” I snapped, stepping between them. “Just back off.”

He ignored me, his gaze fixed on Ansel. “I think he needs to be shown a lesson.”

“Stop. Both of you.” My voice shook, but I forced it louder. “This isn’t happening.”

Nelson’s smirk deepened. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, pointing at Ansel. “Let’s fight for her.”

My jaw dropped. “What?”

Behind me, Clara came running, her curls bouncing as she caught up. “You’re going to do what?” she shouted.

“You be quiet,” Nelson said without looking at her.

My temper snapped. “Wait a freaking minute here.” I stepped forward, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare talk to my friend like that.”

A voice I knew all too well called out from the edge of the clearing. “Did I hear something about a fight over Lupa?”

Oh no.

When I turned, Otto was standing there with that annoying grin, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Otto, get out of here,” I said, groaning.

“Oh, I gotta see this,” he said, walking closer. “A real fight? Don’t stop on my account.”

Around us, people started forming a circle, drawn by the commotion. Some whispered, others laughed, and the night grew louder. I could feel my heartbeat hammering in my chest, the firelight flickering across a dozen eager faces.

“You Neanderthals cannot fight for a girl,” I said sharply, glaring at both of them.

Otto chuckled. “Come on, Lupa. It’s a guy thing.”

Ansel’s gaze never left Nelson. “She’s right,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “This is disrespectful to Lupa.”

“Coward,” Nelson spat, his voice dripping with venom.

Before anyone could react, he shoved Ansel hard in the chest. The impact made a dull thud, and I flinched at the intensity of it.

“Oh my god,” I muttered, pressing a hand to my forehead. “What is Nelson trying to prove?”

Nelson’s smirk turned cruel. “You should head back to your pack, Alpha wanna-be,” he sneered.

Ansel’s jaw flexed hard, the muscle twitching as he tried to stay calm. I could practically feel the tension radiating from him, sharp and dangerous. He didn’t move, but the air around him thickened like a storm about to break.

Nelson kept talking, his voice loud and venomous. “That’s right, chicken s**t! Go home!”

The words hit the air like knives.

Ansel’s eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away… the crowd, the firelight, the noise. His eyes, those stunning storm-gray irises, shimmered with something raw. Pain.

“I can’t back down, little dove,” he said quietly, voice tight. “Do you understand?”

I shook my head, panic clawing at my throat. “You need to know that I’m not some prize to be won,” I said softly, hoping he’d hear the fear behind my voice.

“I know, Lupa,” he said, gaze locked on Nelson. “But this is about honor.”

My stomach dropped.

They faced each other, the circle around them growing thicker with every second. The crowd’s energy was electric, the kind that made your skin buzz. The boys looked like predators; one reckless, one controlled, but both ready to tear into each other.

I wanted to scream, to make them stop. Instead, I found myself whispering under my breath, Please, Ansel, be okay.

Then Nelson lunged.

He moved fast, faster than I expected, his hands shooting toward Ansel’s throat. Ansel spun to the side, ducking in one swift motion, and drove a solid punch straight into Nelson’s stomach. The impact echoed through the night.

“Ohhh, that was a good move, Ansel!” Otto shouted, clapping his hands like this was some kind of show.

“Really?” I snapped, turning on him. “You’re cheering for him? You boys are all alike.”

Otto just shrugged. “Nelson’s a douche. He deserves a good beating.”

Before I could respond, Nelson recovered and landed a vicious punch right to Ansel’s face. The crack of it made my heart lurch. Ansel staggered back, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, but he didn’t fall.

Nelson snarled, his claws flashing out under the moonlight. In one swift motion, he slashed across Ansel’s chest, tearing his shirt open.

Ansel wiped the blood from his lip, eyes darkening. Then, with a calm that sent chills down my spine, he said, “Prison rules, huh?” His mouth curved in a dangerous half-smile. “That’s fine by me.”