He Rejected The Wrong Wolf

Chapter 11

Brielle’s POV

The music felt louder the longer she stood in it.

Not just in her ears, but everywhere—through the floor beneath her feet, through the air against her skin, through the rhythm of people moving too close and laughing too easily. It pressed in from all sides, heavy and constant, until it stopped feeling like background noise and started feeling like something she had to push through just to stay where she was.

Brielle shifted her weight slightly, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table beside her as she steadied herself, her gaze unfocused for a moment as she tried to let it pass.

It didn’t.

The awareness that had been sitting low in her chest since she came back inside didn’t stay quiet this time. It sharpened, rising slowly, like something testing its edges instead of waiting.

She inhaled, slower this time, trying to ground herself in something familiar—the glass in her hand, the feel of the floor beneath her feet, the shape of the room she had walked through a hundred times before.

None of it settled anything.

“Hey.”

Wren’s voice cut through the noise, closer now, her hand landing lightly on Brielle’s arm. “You just went completely still again.”

Brielle blinked, forcing her focus back, though it didn’t fully stick. “I’m fine.”

Wren didn’t pull her hand away. “You’ve said that like five times now.”

“I mean it.”

“Yeah,” Wren said, studying her face more closely now. “You’re just not convincing.”

Brielle let out a quiet breath, her shoulders tightening slightly before she forced them to relax. “It’s just… a lot in here.”

That wasn’t a lie.

It just wasn’t all of it.

Wren’s grip shifted slightly, not tighter, but more deliberate. “You want to step out again?”

Brielle hesitated.

Part of her did.

The quiet had helped earlier, even if it hadn’t explained anything. But something about the idea of leaving now—of stepping away again—felt wrong, like she’d be missing something she didn’t understand yet.

“No,” she said finally, shaking her head slightly. “I’m okay.”

Wren didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, her hand dropping back to her side. “Alright. But if you pass out, I’m dragging you outside myself.”

Brielle huffed a faint breath that almost passed for a laugh. “Good to know.”

Wren nudged her lightly before turning back toward the group, pulling someone into conversation like nothing had happened.

Brielle stayed where she was.

The noise pressed in again, louder this time, sharper, but underneath it—

Something else moved.

It wasn’t the same as before.

It didn’t feel distant.

It felt close.

Too close.

Her breath caught slightly as the sensation shifted, not painful, but intense enough to pull her attention inward completely. The room blurred at the edges, the movement around her turning into something slower, less defined, like she was watching it from a step outside herself.

The scent hit next.

Not one thing.

Everything.

Perfume, sweat, alcohol, polished wood, fabric, the faint trace of outside air every time the door opened—it all layered at once, too much, too sharp, until it felt like she couldn’t separate any of it.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as she tried to steady herself.

This wasn’t normal.

“Brielle?”

Wren’s voice again, closer this time, sharper with concern.

Brielle turned toward her, but the movement felt slower than it should have, like her body was catching up to something her mind hadn’t fully processed yet.

“I’m—” she started, but the word didn’t come out right.

Another wave hit.

Stronger.

Her heartbeat spiked, sudden and loud, pounding against her ribs in a way that felt too big for her chest, too strong for something that was supposed to stay contained.

She sucked in a breath, her shoulders tightening as she braced against it.

“Okay, no,” Wren said immediately, stepping closer, her hand coming up again, firmer this time as it landed on Brielle’s arm. “That’s not nothing. Talk to me.”

Brielle shook her head slightly, more instinct than intention. “I don’t know what this is.”

“Then we’re leaving,” Wren said, already shifting her grip like she was ready to pull her through the crowd.

Brielle didn’t move.

Not because she didn’t want to.

Because something in her had gone completely still.

“Wait,” she said, her voice lower now, quieter in a way that didn’t match the chaos around them.

Wren paused. “What?”

Brielle didn’t answer right away.

Because she felt it again.

That pull.

Not outward.

Inward.

Like something inside her had been quiet for too long and had finally decided it wasn’t going to stay that way anymore.

Her breathing slowed, not by choice, but because something deeper was taking over, something steadier, stronger.

The noise around her didn’t disappear.

But it faded.

Not gone.

Just… less important.

“Brielle,” Wren said again, softer now, cautious. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Brielle blinked once, her focus sharpening slowly as she looked at her.

“I’m okay,” she said.

This time—

She meant it.

Wren hesitated, clearly unsure whether to believe her, her gaze scanning Brielle’s face like she was looking for something that didn’t line up.

“You don’t look okay,” she said.

“I feel…” Brielle stopped, the word catching for a second before she tried again. “Different.”

Wren let out a slow breath. “You’ve been saying that all night.”

“I know,” Brielle said quietly. “But this is—”

She stopped again.

Because the feeling shifted.

Not sharp this time.

Not overwhelming.

Just… clear.

Like something inside her had settled into place, not fully awake, not fully understood—but there.

Present.

Waiting.

Brielle exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as the tension eased into something steadier.

“I think I just need a minute,” she said.

Wren didn’t argue this time, though she didn’t look fully convinced either. “Okay,” she said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Brielle nodded once.

The room moved around her again, the music still loud, the crowd still shifting, but it didn’t press in the same way anymore.

It felt…

Smaller.

Manageable.

Her gaze drifted across the room without really focusing, catching on faces she recognized, people she had grown up around, people who had never really seen her the way they were starting to now.

And then—

It stopped.

On him.

Thaddeus stood across the room, half-turned toward someone speaking to him, but his attention wasn’t there.

It was on her.

Their eyes met.

For a second, nothing else existed.

Not the music.

Not the crowd.

Not the space between them.

Just that look.

His expression didn’t change much, but something in it shifted—subtle, sharp, like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected to see.

Brielle held his gaze.

Didn’t look away.

Didn’t drop it the way she might have before.

And this time—

She didn’t feel smaller under it.

She felt steady.

Like whatever had shifted inside her wasn’t fragile.

It was just… waiting.

Thaddeus’s attention lingered for a second longer before something pulled it away, someone stepping into his space, breaking the line of sight.

The moment ended.

But the feeling didn’t.

Brielle let out a slow breath, her fingers uncurling at her sides as she turned slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting just enough to go unnoticed.

“Yeah,” she murmured under her breath.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.