He Rejected The Wrong Wolf

Chapter 8

Brielle’s POV

The music hit her before the doors even fully opened.

It spilled out into the night in waves—bass heavy, loud enough to vibrate faintly through the stone beneath her feet—and for a second, Brielle just stood there, her hand resting lightly against the door as she adjusted to the shift. The quiet outside had settled something in her. The moment she stepped back in, it felt like stepping into something that didn’t quite fit the same way anymore.

Wren didn’t wait.

She pushed the door open the rest of the way and slipped inside first, glancing back just long enough to make sure Brielle followed before disappearing into the crowd again like she always did—easy, natural, like she belonged exactly where she stood.

Brielle took a breath and stepped in after her.

The difference was immediate.

Not the music. Not the lights. Not even the crowd.

It was the way people looked at her now.

Some of them tried not to. That was almost worse. Their eyes flicked toward her and then away again too quickly, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. Others didn’t bother hiding it at all, their attention lingering in a way that felt deliberate, curious, like they were trying to figure out something that didn’t line up with what they thought they knew.

It had nothing to do with the dress.

She knew that now.

Brielle didn’t slow down as she moved through the room, her posture steady, her expression neutral even as the murmurs followed in low, uneven waves behind her. She didn’t try to catch the words—didn’t need to. The tone was enough.

Confused.

Curious.

Unsettled.

Good.

Let them be.

She spotted Wren near the edge of the dance floor, already mid-conversation with two girls Brielle vaguely recognized, her hands moving as she talked, her expression animated in a way that made it easy to slip back into something normal.

Or at least, something that looked like it.

“You took your time,” Wren said the second Brielle reached her, her gaze flicking over her quickly before narrowing just slightly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Brielle said, reaching for a drink from the tray someone passed by without breaking stride.

Wren didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push it. Not here.

Not with this many people watching.

Because they were.

Brielle could feel it again—the subtle shift in attention that followed her even when she wasn’t looking for it, like the room hadn’t quite decided what to do with her yet.

“Okay,” Wren said after a second, her tone lighter now, deliberately casual. “Then we’re going to pretend nothing weird happened for at least ten minutes.”

“That sounds manageable.”

“Good,” Wren said, clearly satisfied. “Because I refuse to let you disappear into your head again tonight.”

Brielle almost smiled at that, the corner of her mouth lifting just slightly before she took a sip of her drink instead, letting the familiar burn settle something in her chest.

It didn’t last.

Because the second the glass lowered—

The room shifted again.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t obvious.

But it was enough.

The conversations closest to her faltered just slightly, voices dipping in a way that didn’t match the music. A few heads turned—not toward her this time, but past her—and the tension that followed wasn’t curiosity anymore.

It was recognition.

Respect.

Brielle didn’t turn right away.

She didn’t need to.

She already knew who it was.

“Thaddeus is looking for you.”

The voice came from her left this time, quiet, cautious, like the girl saying it didn’t want to be too involved in whatever was about to happen. Brielle glanced over just long enough to catch the look on her face—uncertain, a little wary—before her gaze shifted back ahead again.

“Of course he is,” Wren muttered under her breath.

Brielle exhaled slowly, setting her glass down without finishing it. “I’ll be back.”

Wren caught her wrist lightly before she could move away, her grip firm enough to stop her for a second. “Hey,” she said, her voice dropping just slightly. “You don’t have to deal with him right now if you don’t want to.”

Brielle met her gaze, steady.

“I know,” she said.

Then she pulled her hand free—not sharply, not impatiently—and turned.

It didn’t take long to find him.

He stood near the far side of the room, just outside the main crowd, his posture relaxed in a way that didn’t quite hide the control underneath it. People gave him space without thinking about it, their movements shifting subtly around him like it was instinct instead of choice.

His gaze found her almost immediately.

And didn’t move.

Brielle didn’t rush.

She crossed the distance at her own pace, ignoring the way the room seemed to quiet just slightly as she approached, the way a few conversations stalled completely when it became clear exactly where she was going.

She stopped a few steps away.

Close enough to speak.

Far enough to leave space.

“You needed something?” she asked.

His eyes moved over her once, slower than before, more deliberate, like he was still trying to place something that didn’t quite fit.

“You left,” he said.

“So did you.”

That flicker again—something almost like approval—before it disappeared just as quickly.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

Brielle raised a brow slightly. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted briefly, scanning the room around them before returning to her, sharper now.

“Because things are about to get complicated,” he said.

Brielle let out a quiet breath, her weight shifting slightly onto one foot as she studied him. “That’s vague.”

“It’s intentional.”

“Of course it is.”

For a second, neither of them moved, the tension settling into something quieter but no less present.

“Then try again,” she said. “Preferably with an actual answer this time.”

His jaw tightened just slightly, like he wasn’t used to being pushed—at least, not like this. Not by her.

“You being here,” he said finally, his voice lower now, meant for her and no one else, “isn’t as simple as you think it is.”

Brielle held his gaze, steady, unimpressed. “Nothing about tonight has been simple."

“Then you should start paying attention.”

She almost laughed at that, the sound soft and brief. “I think I’ve been doing that.”

“Not enough.”

The words landed heavier than they should have.

For a second, something in her chest tightened—not fear, not exactly, but something sharper, more aware.

“Then explain it,” she said.

His gaze held hers, something unreadable settling deeper into it.

“I will,” he said. “Just not here.”

Brielle followed his line of sight briefly, taking in the room—the people watching without pretending they weren’t anymore, the tension that had shifted from curiosity into something else entirely.

Something expectant.

“Then where?” she asked.

His attention snapped back to her.

“Somewhere no one else is listening.”

That should have felt like a bad idea.

It didn’t.

Which was probably the problem.

Brielle tilted her head slightly, considering him for a second longer than necessary before she gave a small, almost careless shrug.

“Fine,” she said. “Lead the way.”

That same flicker again—approval, or something close to it.

Then he turned.

And this time—

She followed.