He Rejected The Wrong Wolf

Chapter 10

Brielle’s POV

The hallway didn’t feel as quiet on the way back.

It should have. Nothing had changed—the same dim lights lined the walls, the same soft echo followed her steps—but something in her had shifted just enough that the silence didn’t settle the way it had before. It felt thinner now, like it couldn’t hold the weight of everything that had just happened, and the further she moved, the more the distant pulse of music began to bleed back in.

She didn’t rush.

There wasn’t anything pulling her forward, nothing chasing her from behind. Her pace stayed even, measured, her heels hanging loosely from her fingers as her bare feet pressed quietly against the floor. The cool wood grounded her with every step, steady and real in a way that made it easier to ignore the faint tightness still sitting low in her chest.

It wasn’t pain.

Not exactly.

More like something settling into place.

By the time she reached the staircase, the music had grown louder, voices overlapping again as the party reclaimed its space. The warmth hit her first when she stepped back into the main level, the shift from quiet to crowded immediate enough that it made her pause for half a second at the bottom step.

No one noticed.

Or if they did, they didn’t react.

That alone felt different.

Brielle moved through the edge of the room without drawing attention, her gaze sweeping once before she spotted Wren near the same place she’d left her, still surrounded by people, still talking like nothing had changed.

Like nothing ever did.

Wren saw her almost immediately.

Her expression shifted mid-sentence, attention snapping fully to Brielle as she excused herself without hesitation and crossed the distance between them, her brows pulling together slightly as she took her in.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice low enough not to carry.

Brielle nodded once, simple, automatic. “I’m fine.”

Wren didn’t look convinced.

Her eyes lingered, searching Brielle’s face for something she wasn’t saying, and for a second it looked like she might push—but she didn’t. Not here. Not with people close enough to listen if they tried.

Instead, she let out a slow breath and nodded, stepping closer so their shoulders nearly brushed. “You were gone a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you—” Wren started, then stopped herself, glancing briefly around before lowering her voice further. “Was it him?”

Brielle didn’t answer right away.

She reached for a drink from a passing tray instead, her fingers wrapping around the glass more for something to do than anything else, the cool surface grounding in a way that helped more than she expected.

“Yeah,” she said finally.

Wren’s mouth tightened. “And?”

Brielle took a small sip before answering, her gaze drifting out over the crowd instead of staying on Wren. The room looked the same. The same people, the same movement, the same energy.

It didn’t feel the same.

“He just wanted to make something clear,” she said.

Wren waited.

Brielle exhaled slowly, the words coming easier than she expected. “He’s already chosen who he wants as Luna.”

There was a brief pause.

Then Wren’s expression shifted sharply, her head snapping toward Brielle. “He what?”

Brielle’s mouth twitched faintly, not quite a smile. “Yeah.”

“That—” Wren cut herself off, her jaw tightening as she glanced away for a second before looking back. “That’s… wow. Okay.”

Brielle huffed a quiet breath, lifting one shoulder in a small shrug. “It’s fine.”

Wren stared at her. “It’s not fine.”

“It is,” Brielle said, a little more firmly this time, though her tone stayed even. “I wasn’t—there wasn’t anything to begin with.”

“That’s not the point,” Wren muttered, her voice low and edged now. “He didn’t have to—”

“He did,” Brielle cut in gently, not sharp, just enough to stop her. “That’s how he sees it. It’s not… personal.”

Wren’s brows pulled together. “It sounds pretty personal.”

Brielle let out a small breath, her fingers tightening slightly around the glass before she forced them to loosen again. “It’s about status. Position. Whatever.”

“Still makes him an ass.”

That pulled a faint, real smile from Brielle this time, brief but there. “Yeah,” she admitted.

Wren studied her for another second, like she was trying to decide if she believed her, then shook her head slightly. “You’re taking this way too well.”

Brielle glanced down at her drink, watching the way the liquid shifted when she tilted the glass. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

That made her pause.

Because she should have felt something, shouldn’t she?

Embarrassment. Anger. Something.

Instead—

There was just… clarity.

“I think I just understand it now,” she said slowly.

Wren frowned. “Understand what?”

Brielle lifted her gaze, looking out across the room again, her attention settling without really focusing on anything specific. “Where I stand.”

Wren’s expression softened slightly, though the frustration didn’t leave it completely. “And you’re okay with that?”

Brielle didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted instead, catching on small details—the movement of people shifting through the crowd, the way conversations dipped and rose, the familiar patterns she’d always noticed without really thinking about them.

Nothing had changed.

Except—

Her.

“I think,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, more certain, “I don’t care as much as I thought I would.”

Wren stared at her for a second, then let out a breath, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Okay,” she said slowly. “That’s… actually kind of impressive.”

Brielle huffed a faint laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Don’t make it sound like an achievement.”

“It is,” Wren said. “Trust me.”

Brielle didn’t argue.

Instead, she took another sip of her drink, letting the familiar burn settle something in her chest again. The tightness from earlier had eased, leaving something steadier behind, something quieter but stronger in a way she didn’t fully understand yet.

Around them, the party continued like nothing had happened.

No one was watching her now.

No one was paying attention.

And for once—

That didn’t bother her.

“Come on,” Wren said after a moment, nudging her lightly with her shoulder. “If we’re pretending everything’s fine, we might as well actually enjoy this.”

Brielle let out a quiet breath, setting her glass down on a nearby table as she straightened. “You’re really committed to that plan, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

Brielle shook her head slightly, but she followed anyway, letting Wren pull her back toward the edge of the dance floor where the music was louder and the lights were brighter.

It should have felt the same.

It didn’t.

As she stepped fully back into the crowd, something in her chest shifted again—not sharp this time, not overwhelming, just… present. A quiet awareness that hadn’t been there before, like something beneath the surface had woken up and was paying attention now.

She stilled for half a second, her breath catching just slightly as that feeling settled in deeper.

“Brielle?” Wren’s voice came from beside her, softer now.

Brielle blinked, forcing herself to move again. “I’m good,” she said, though her voice had dropped just a fraction.

The feeling didn’t fade.

It stayed.

Low. Steady.

Waiting.

And for the first time—

She didn’t try to ignore it.