Chapter 9
1377 Words
Brielle’s POV
The further Brielle moved from the party, the more the noise fell away behind her, not all at once, but in pieces. The bass lingered first, a dull vibration through the floor that slowly faded with each step, and then the voices followed, laughter thinning into something distant until it barely sounded like it belonged to the same house anymore. By the time she reached the end of the hallway, it was quiet enough that she could hear her own breathing again, steady but just a little too aware of itself.
She slowed without meaning to, her hand drifting out to the wall beside her, fingers brushing along the smooth surface as if she needed something solid to anchor herself. The air felt different here—cooler, still—and for a moment she just stood there, letting it settle around her, letting whatever had been building in her chest earlier ease into something she could ignore.
It almost worked.
A door opened somewhere behind her.
The sound was soft, controlled, but in the quiet it carried farther than it should have, and Brielle turned before she could stop herself.
Thaddeus stepped into the hallway.
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause like he was surprised to see her there. If anything, it felt like he’d expected it. That thought settled uncomfortably in her chest as his gaze lifted and landed on her, steady, assessing in a way she knew too well.
For a second, neither of them said anything. The space between them wasn’t large, but it felt intentional, like something had drawn a line neither of them was stepping over yet.
“You left,” he said after a moment.
Not accusing. Not concerned.
Just… stating it.
Brielle shifted her weight slightly, folding her arms without thinking, more for herself than anything else. “It got loud,” she said, her tone light enough to pass, though she didn’t look away.
He huffed a quiet breath through his nose, something almost like a dry laugh but without any humor in it. “That’s kind of the point.”
“Yeah,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Not really my thing.”
Something in his expression shifted at that—not softer, not exactly, but less dismissive than it usually was. He stepped closer, not enough to crowd her, just enough that the distance between them felt… chosen.
“You’ve been acting different tonight,” he said.
Brielle tilted her head slightly, studying him for a second before answering. “Different how?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze moved over her, slower than usual, taking in details he’d never seemed interested in before, and when his eyes came back to hers, there was something sharper there.
“Like you’re not trying to disappear,” he said.
That caught her off guard more than anything else he’d said so far.
She let out a small breath, almost a laugh, though it didn’t quite land. “You noticed that?”
“I notice things,” he said.
Brielle raised a brow slightly. “That’s new.”
His jaw tightened just a fraction, like he’d heard the edge in that even if she hadn’t pushed it. “Not really.”
She could’ve let it go. Probably should have.
Instead, she shifted her weight again, letting her shoulder rest lightly against the wall, her posture relaxed in a way that didn’t match the tension sitting just under her skin. “So what, you came out here to analyze me now?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly for that to be true.
Brielle watched him for a second, then huffed a quiet breath. “Then what?”
The silence stretched just a little too long this time, enough to feel deliberate.
When he spoke again, his tone had changed.
“I need to be clear about something.”
That was enough to straighten her slightly, the casual ease slipping just enough to make room for something more alert. She didn’t move away from the wall, but she wasn’t leaning on it anymore either.
“Okay…” she said, slower now.
He held her gaze when he said it.
“I’ve already chosen who will stand beside me as Luna.”
There wasn’t any hesitation in it. No shift in tone, no flicker of doubt. He didn’t look away, didn’t soften it.
It was just… done.
Brielle blinked once, the words settling in a way that didn’t quite match the reaction he was probably expecting. She pushed herself fully upright, her arms dropping from where they’d been loosely folded.
“And you came out here to tell me that?” she asked, her voice even.
“Yes.”
That was it.
No explanation.
No apology.
Just that same steady certainty.
Brielle let out a breath through her nose, glancing away for half a second before looking back at him. “Why?”
He didn’t hesitate this time. “Because there seems to be some confusion tonight.”
Her brows pulled together slightly. “Confusion about what?”
His gaze didn’t soften.
“You.”
That landed a little harder.
Not because of what he said—but because of how sure he sounded about it.
Brielle studied him for a second, then tilted her head slightly. “You’re going to have to explain that.”
“You’ve been drawing attention,” he said, his tone flattening out again. “Acting like you belong in places you haven’t before.”
She stared at him for a beat, then let out a quiet breath, something between disbelief and mild amusement. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
The dismissal was subtle, but it was there.
Brielle’s gaze sharpened just slightly, though her expression didn’t change much. “And that matters to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
This time, he paused, like he was deciding how much he wanted to say out loud.
“Because I won’t have rumors starting about something that isn’t real.”
Brielle frowned. “And what exactly isn’t real?”
His eyes hardened just enough to answer before he spoke.
“Whatever you think this is.”
For a moment, the words just sat there between them.
Brielle didn’t react right away. Didn’t rush to fill the silence the way she might have before.
Instead, she let it stretch, let him sit in it too.
“I don’t think anything,” she said finally.
It wasn’t entirely true.
But it was close enough.
He didn’t look convinced.
“You should,” he said. “Because I’m making this clear now.”
Brielle let out a quiet breath, shaking her head slightly, more tired than anything else. “You’re making something clear that wasn’t there to begin with.”
“Yes, it was.”
“No,” she said, more firmly this time. “It wasn’t.”
The tension didn’t spike.
It settled.
He watched her for a second longer, then something in his expression shifted again, not softer—just colder.
“You’re not even fully shifted yet,” he said. “You don’t even have a wolf.”
That one should have hit.
It didn’t.
Brielle just looked at him, her expression calm in a way that felt unfamiliar even to her.
“And that matters to you?” she asked quietly.
“It matters to the position I hold.”
Of course it did.
Brielle nodded once, slow, like she was filing that away instead of reacting to it.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I wasn’t interested,” she said.
That finally got a reaction.
Not big. Not dramatic.
But real.
His expression shifted—just slightly—before he caught it.
She didn’t wait.
“Think whatever you want,” she added, her tone calm, almost dismissive. “It doesn’t change anything for me.”
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t argue.
Just watched her like he was trying to figure out what had changed.
Brielle didn’t give him the chance.
She stepped past him, close enough to feel his presence but not touching, her movement steady, unhurried.
This time—
She didn’t stop.
And she didn’t look back.
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