Mate Wars

Humans had to fight tooth and nail for survival in the New World. It’s survival of the fittest. Two things matter when you’re human: your beauty and how well you use it. Every year, human females are selected to participate in the Selection Process. It’s a brutal competition to secure a spot as a mate for the werewolves. Some fail to secure places in the castle, while others get lucky and are chosen by an alpha.

But this year will be different. I will not only secure my future by marrying a wolf—my goal is the King. King Derrick is the most savage man to walk the earth. I don’t care whose tail I have to step on to get there. I will fight tooth and nail to claw my way out of this forsaken place.

As a human, you live in one of three communities: Yield 1, Yield 2, or Yield 3. I live in the lowest of the low, Yield 3. Our houses are little more than straw huts, far from the sturdy bricks of the upper yields. Here, women, men, and children all work tirelessly just to scrape together enough for food and shelter. The higher up you go in the yields, the better the living conditions. Some women do everything they can to marry into a better yield. For those born beautiful, their beauty becomes their ticket to even greater opportunities.

The wolves are the rulers of the New World. They have been for as long as I can remember. Rumor has it that long ago, a war broke out between wolves, witches, and vampires. Humans, in their foolishness, sided with the witches and paid the ultimate price. Now, the wolves segregate themselves, and even the lowest-ranking wolf is more important than any human.

Among the wolves, there are ranks: omegas, betas, and alphas. For human females, the ultimate goal is to become the mate of a beta or, if you’re exceptionally beautiful, an alpha. At the top of the hierarchy is Alpha Derrick, the reigning king. He is cruel and has never shown interest in anyone, leading many human females to abandon hope of even trying. They settle for securing another alpha within the nobility or even a beta. But not me. I will bring that king to his knees.

In Yield 3, beauty is both a blessing and a curse. If you’re beautiful, they will try to mutilate you out of jealousy, ensuring you can’t rise above them. Ever since I realized this, I’ve worn a scarf that covers everything but my eyes. It’s a tactic often used by women who don’t fit the harsh beauty standards, but for me, it’s a shield—a way to hide my potential and protect myself from their envy. Until the day of selection.

“Izabella, are you in thoughts again ?” A familiar voice came from beside me.I glanced at my childhood friend, Kristy. “You are always daydreaming,” she giggled and placed her fingers on my face scarf, playing with it. “I bet if I dragged this down, you wouldn’t be gazing,” I laughed. Krisy and I were close, but sometimes I forget that even she has never actually gotten a glance at my face.

Kristy was average looking but had a clear face and beautiful blond hair and blue eyes that could captivate almost anyone. After this week, she stated that she would marry into yield 1 as her father, who worked as a construction worker on that side, had met a family with a young man who was looking to marry.

The man was an office worker, and that impressed Kristy barely anyone in yield 1 could get office jobs. I had jokingly asked her to set me up, however, Kristy had responded that her father knew no one else, which I knew was a lie. She just didn’t want me, who she assumed was ugly, to marry better than her. She wanted to remain the friend who had the power. She did everything a bad friend would do, sleep with my boyfriends and spread gossip, but I kept her around because when the time came and she was kissing the very ground I walked on, it would destroy her.

“I think we should get back to work before they miss us.’’ She grabbed my hand and dragged me off the rock as we ran back to the factory. The factory was a place where the majority of yield-3 humans worked. It was hard work, but one of the better-paying jobs. It was a typical 9-5, which made it better as the lower-paying jobs were 16 hours for way less money.

I went back to my post beside a girl named Marley. She also wore a head scarf; when she removed it once at lunch, a big scar ran down her face, and a piece of her nose was missing. It was sad because I could tell she was beautiful. “I’m happy you’re back. My shift is almost at an end.” Sometimes, I forgot that she worked shorter shifts because she had children; though we were both 19, she had three children, ages 2,3, and a newborn. She had married a yield 3 factory Ceo who left her for a yield 1 nurse 1 week after baby number three was born. Yeah, these low-class men were not for me.

After work, we stood at the bus stop. Kristy looked at me and smiled. “ I probably won’t see you ever again, My man will come for me this week, Daddy said. She tried to mask her happiness by pretending to be sad, but I could clearly see it. “Me too’’ I said, and then she fake-pretended to cry, and I faked caring because she was a bitch so why not. The old bus came for us and stopped at her home. She got off again, pretending to wave me goodly sadly. I waved back. Goodbye bitch.

My home was not as homely as most; it was a run-down building that I shared with my brother, who was never here. He never gave two flying crap what ever happened to his younger siblings he only left food in the house and payed the bills he wanted nothing to do with the sentimental stuff and that was okay with me. My elder sister had moved out a year ago when she married an omega. She was elated, and I was happy for her. Yield 3s never get to marry that far up the hierarchy, so many people were happy for her. My brother was pretty lucky to be enlisted as an officer and was sometimes sent in any of the Yields to do his job.

He planned to marry Casstidy soon who was also in yield 3, she was a beauty and everyone classified her as one who would be selected to go to the royal capital soon. I could not wait to see the shock on all of their faces when I was a part of the selection.

That night, I lay awake, staring at the crumbling ceiling, the moonlight seeping through a crack above my mattress. The thin blanket did little to keep out the chill, but my body had long adjusted to the cold. My mind, however, raced with thoughts I couldn’t escape. This time next week, my life would either be completely changed or ruined.

I couldn’t afford to fail. Not when I had suffered this long. Not when I had endured every backhanded insult, every sneer, every backstab by those who thought I was less than them. My beauty had been a secret weapon, locked away behind scarves and shadows. But soon, it would be time to let it loose.

And the world wasn’t ready.

I had never been to the capital before, I always thought that the guards would come to select the interested ladies, however, that was not how it worked in fact far from it. It was a line, and once you were inside, you would be inspected; that’s what the buff guy stated. After being inspected, there is a second process where you stand in front of everyone, and all three yield common folks and upper class folks sit down like inside a big stadium and watch the wolves select or shame you. I have never been to one, so this was a shock.

We were herded into a massive white building. Inside, the light was blinding. Nurses, human and wolf, lined the walls, barking orders. Each girl was given a number and stripped of her outerwear. The scarves came off. Some cried. Others looked around, panicked, realizing their faces were not as striking as they once believed.

When it was my turn, I removed the scarf slowly. A hush fell over the room.

Under the fluorescent lights, my brown skin glowed like burnished gold. My features were elegant high cheekbones, a strong jaw softened by full lips. My eyes, deep-set and intelligent, scanned the room with calculating precision. And my hair, a halo of tight curls that framed my face, seemed to defy the harshness of this place.

I walked like a question no one could answer.

A nurse with pale gray eyes stared at me for a long moment before scribbling something on her clipboard.

“Number 108,” she said. “You’re clear. Next!”

Whispers followed me.

“Did you see her?”

“She’s from Yield 3?”

“Wow who would have thought”another nurse said .I decided to put my scarf back on until needed.

The stadium was a coliseum of stone and steel. It could seat thousands—and today, it was filled to capacity. The royal mating ceremony was a spectacle, tradition wrapped in blood and power.

In the center, girls stood in rows. We had been bathed, dressed in plain white gowns, and instructed not to speak. The wolves would make their selections in silence. If you were chosen, you’d be led offstage. If not... well, humiliation wasn’t even the worst part.

The wolves sat in thrones arranged on a raised platform. Most were noble alphas or high-ranking betas. All eyes were drawn, however, to the tallest throne in the center.

King Derrick.

He sat with one leg lazily draped over the other, dark eyes scanning the rows with boredom—or was it disdain? His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable. Even from this distance, I felt his presence like a heatwave.

Girls were being chosen rapidly. Some wept with joy. Others fainted.

Then, they called my number.

“108.”

I stepped forward.

Every wolf’s gaze seemed to snap toward me. I walked slowly, letting the fabric of the gown sway around my legs, then the one from my face. Each step was deliberate.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. My skin glistened under the overhead lights, the curl of my hair catching shadows like dark fire. I heard murmurs.

“She’s radiant.” Another contestant whispered .

“From the outer yields?” A commoner wolf whispered.

“Impossible.”

King Derrick leaned forward. No one else saw but I saw; ahh, so he was interested in women.

“Name?” the announcer asked.

“Izabella,” I said clearly.

The wolves voted to send me to the royal palace where the king or one of his brothers would hopefully take an interest in me. I didnt give a rats ass about his brothers my attention was becoming his. Some females would celebrate in joy for at least being able to get one foot in, however, I wanted the absolute best.

Four more girls were called forward. Each one was striking, but none like me. One in particular caught my attention: Raina from Yield 1. Tall, blonde, and viciously beautiful, she walked like the world belonged to her. Her eyes met mine as she passed, her smile laced with venom.

“From Yield 3?” she whispered, loud enough for only me to hear. “Stay out of my way bitch I am getting the king .”

I didn’t flinch. Instead I used my feet to crush her toes.

“No, stay out of my way bitch or else crushed toes will be the least of your issues ” I murmured back.

Her eyes narrowed as she pretended it did not hurt. The war had begun.