He Rejected The Wrong Wolf

Chapter 6

Brielle’s POV

The space where he had been didn’t feel empty.

It should have. People moved through it again without hesitation, filling the gap like nothing had interrupted the night at all. Laughter rose back into place, a little louder than it needed to be, and the music swelled as if someone had turned it up to smooth everything over. Glasses clinked, voices overlapped, and the room settled into its rhythm again—but underneath it, something hadn’t quite returned to normal.

Brielle could still feel it.

Not him.

Not exactly.

But something he had left behind.

She stood there longer than she meant to, her attention fixed on a space that no longer held anything visible, her fingers loosely curled at her side as she tried to make sense of something that didn’t want to be explained yet. The feeling hadn’t disappeared when he did. It had settled instead, lower in her chest, like it was waiting.

Behind her, Wren let out a quiet breath. “Okay,” she said, her voice low but no longer trying to hide the curiosity in it. “I’m not even going to pretend that was normal.”

Brielle exhaled slowly and turned, the movement controlled even if it didn’t feel natural yet. Wren was watching her closely now, her usual ease replaced with something sharper.

“I don’t have an explanation,” Brielle said.

Wren tilted her head, studying her face instead of arguing. “You felt it, though,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t just some random guy.”

Brielle’s gaze flickered back toward where he had been before she caught herself and looked away again, her shoulders tightening just slightly. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I did.”

That was the problem.

The music shifted into something heavier, faster, pulling people back toward the dance floor as conversations picked up again. On the surface, everything looked normal again.

It wasn’t.

Brielle reached for another drink more out of instinct than anything else, the cool glass grounding her just enough to keep her from slipping back into that moment again. It didn’t fix anything, but it helped.

“You’re in your head,” Wren said, nudging her lightly, her tone softer now.

“I’m trying not to be,” Brielle replied, her thumb brushing the rim of the glass.

“Then don’t,” Wren said. “Just be here for a minute.”

Brielle let out a faint breath that almost turned into a laugh, but it didn’t quite land. Being here had never been the hard part.

Being seen while she was here—that was new.

The awareness shifted again before she could respond, sharper this time, colder, cutting through the noise in a way that felt far too familiar.

She didn’t have to turn.

“Enjoying the attention?”

Caelan’s voice slipped in smooth and controlled, just loud enough to land without drawing a crowd.

Brielle turned slowly, meeting her gaze without rushing it. Caelan stood a few steps away, her arms crossed, her posture tighter than usual, her expression carefully composed in a way that didn’t quite hide what sat underneath it. Her eyes moved over Brielle once, slow and deliberate, taking in the dress, the way she stood, the fact that she hadn’t pulled back.

That was new.

Brielle didn’t react right away. She let the moment sit, let Caelan look, let her try to figure it out. Then her shoulders lifted in a small, almost careless shrug.

“Whatever,” she said, not even bothering to look at her.

Wren made a quiet, surprised sound beside her, clearly not expecting that.

Caelan’s expression flickered—just for a second—before it smoothed out again. “You think this is something?” she asked, her tone cooling. “One night and suddenly you’re what? Important?”

Brielle leaned back slightly against the table, the movement unhurried, her attention drifting just enough to make it clear she wasn’t fully invested in the conversation.

“I didn’t say that.”

Caelan stepped closer, closing the space between them deliberately. “You don’t have to,” she said quietly. “Everyone can see what you’re trying to do.”

Brielle straightened just enough to meet her gaze again, steady, unreadable.

“Think whatever you want,” she said.

The words weren’t sharp.

They didn’t need to be.

For a second, neither of them moved. The tension between them tightened, not loud but solid, something steady and waiting.

“Caelan.”

Thaddeus’s voice cut through it cleanly, low and controlled, carrying enough weight to shift the moment without effort.

He stepped up beside her, his presence familiar in a way that felt completely separate from everything else that had happened tonight. His gaze moved between them, lingering on Brielle just long enough to register something unreadable before settling back on Caelan.

“Not here,” he said.

It wasn’t loud.

It didn’t need to be.

Caelan’s jaw tightened, irritation surfacing before she forced it back down. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

Thaddeus didn’t argue. He just looked at her.

And after a second, she looked away first.

“Fine,” she muttered, stepping back, though her eyes slid back to Brielle once more. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Then she turned and walked off, her heels sharp against the floor, her posture rigid in a way that didn’t match her usual confidence.

The tension didn’t leave with her.

It shifted.

Changed.

Brielle let out a slow breath, her shoulders loosening just slightly as the immediate pressure eased. Wren let out a quiet, impressed exhale beside her.

“Okay,” she murmured. “I liked that.”

Brielle huffed a faint breath. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly.”

Brielle didn’t answer.

Because she hadn’t.

And somehow, that had changed everything.

Thaddeus hadn’t moved.

She could feel it before she looked.

When she did, his gaze was already on her, not dismissive, not careless the way it had been before. Something in it had shifted, sharpened, like he was trying to understand something that didn’t quite make sense anymore.

“What?” she asked.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes moved over her again, slower this time, more deliberate, like he was trying to confirm something instead of dismiss it.

“You feel different,” he said.

Brielle frowned slightly. “That’s vague.”

“It’s accurate.”

She almost rolled her eyes, but something about the way he said it stopped her. There was no mockery in it. No insult.

Just observation.

“Maybe you’re just paying attention,” she said.

His gaze sharpened slightly at that. “Maybe.”

But it didn’t sound like he believed it.

Brielle didn’t stay much longer after that. Not because she couldn’t, but because something in the room felt off now, like everything had shifted just enough that she couldn’t settle back into it. The music, the laughter, the movement—it all felt slightly distant, like she was standing just outside of it instead of inside.

“Walk?” she said quietly.

Wren didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Definitely.”

They slipped out through the side doors, the noise of the party fading behind them as cool night air wrapped around them, immediate and grounding. Brielle stepped onto the stone path and slipped her heels off without thinking, the cold surface beneath her feet pulling her fully back into herself.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Wren exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she said, turning toward her. “Start talking.”

Brielle stared out toward the dark line of trees at the edge of the property, her fingers tightening slightly around her shoes.

“I don’t know what that was,” she admitted.

Wren studied her for a second, then nodded once. “Yeah,” she said. “But you felt it.”

Brielle nodded.

She had.

And the worst part—

She still did.