He Rejected The Wrong Wolf

Chapter 7

Brielle’s POV

The quiet outside felt different.

It wasn’t just the absence of music or voices—it was the way everything seemed to settle the second the doors closed behind them, like the night itself had been waiting for the noise to leave. The air was cooler out here, sharper, carrying the faint scent of trees and damp earth from the woods beyond the property, and for the first time since she’d walked into the party, Brielle felt like she could breathe without something pressing in on her from all sides.

She stepped a little farther from the door, her bare feet finding the stone path without thinking, the chill grounding in a way that helped more than the drink ever had. The smooth surface pressed against her skin, pulling her attention back into her body, away from the weight of the room she’d just left behind.

Wren followed, letting the door fall shut behind her with a quiet click before she leaned back against one of the stone pillars, arms folding loosely as she watched Brielle instead of speaking right away. It was a rare kind of patience from her, one that said she was waiting for Brielle to sort through something first instead of jumping in with questions.

Brielle didn’t fill the silence immediately.

She stood there, staring out toward the dark line of trees at the edge of the property, her fingers curling slightly around the heels she still held in one hand. The wind shifted, brushing lightly against her shoulders, carrying the faintest trace of something that made her chest tighten before it slipped away again too quickly to hold onto.

He was gone.

But whatever that had been—

It wasn’t.

“I don’t like that you went quiet,” Wren said after a moment, her voice softer now, less teasing than it usually was. “You only do that when something’s actually bothering you.”

Brielle let out a slow breath, her gaze still fixed ahead. “It’s not bothering me,” she said, then paused, reconsidering. “Not the way you think.”

Wren pushed off the pillar, stepping closer, her expression shifting into something more focused. “Okay… then what is it?”

Brielle hesitated, not because she didn’t want to answer, but because she didn’t have the words yet. The feeling in her chest hadn’t faded—it had settled, deeper now, steady in a way that made it impossible to ignore. It wasn’t overwhelming. It wasn’t confusing anymore either.

It was just… there.

“Something changed,” she said finally.

Wren’s brows pulled together. “Yeah,” she said. “I noticed.”

Brielle huffed out a faint breath, shaking her head slightly. “No, I mean—something in me.” Her fingers tightened slightly around her shoes as she shifted her weight, the cool stone pressing into her feet again. “It’s like… I’ve been here this whole time, but I wasn’t really here. And now—”

She stopped, frustrated by how hard it was to explain something that felt so obvious inside her.

Wren didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t rush her.

“That guy,” Brielle said instead, her voice quieter now. “When I saw him… it wasn’t like anything I’ve felt before.”

Wren’s expression sharpened immediately, interest flickering back in. “So it was a mate thing.”

“I don’t know,” Brielle said quickly, shaking her head. “It didn’t feel like what everyone describes. There wasn’t… that pull. Not like that.”

“Then what did it feel like?”

Brielle stared out toward the trees again, searching for the right way to explain it. “Like he already knew something I didn’t,” she said slowly. “Like I was the one catching up.”

Wren went quiet at that, her usual quick responses nowhere to be found for once.

“That’s…” she started, then stopped, clearly rethinking whatever she had been about to say. “That’s not normal.”

“No,” Brielle said. “It’s not.”

The wind shifted again, stronger this time, brushing through her hair and carrying the faintest hint of that same scent back to her, just enough to make her breath catch before it slipped away again.

Her head turned slightly without thinking, her attention drawn toward the trees.

“Brielle?”

Wren’s voice cut through, softer now, more cautious.

Brielle didn’t answer right away. Something felt off again—not wrong, not dangerous, but… different. The night had gone still in a way that didn’t match the faint music still echoing from inside, like the space around them had narrowed without her noticing.

Then she felt it.

Not the same as before.

Stronger.

Closer.

Her breath slowed, her body going still in a way that wasn’t entirely her choice as that awareness spread through her chest again, deeper this time, heavier.

“Do you feel that?” she asked quietly.

Wren frowned, glancing around before shaking her head. “Feel what?”

Brielle didn’t respond.

Because she already knew.

This wasn’t something Wren could feel.

This was hers.

The air shifted again, and this time the scent didn’t fade.

It settled.

Right behind her.

She turned slowly.

He stood just beyond the edge of the light, half-shadowed by the trees, the darkness behind him making it harder to see the details at first glance. But he was there—solid, real, exactly where he hadn’t been seconds ago.

Watching her.

Not moving.

Not approaching.

Just… there.

Brielle’s breath steadied instead of catching, her body reacting differently this time, not startled, not uncertain—just aware. The same quiet pressure she had felt inside the room pressed in again, stronger now without the noise to soften it.

“You left,” she said, her voice calm despite the way her pulse had shifted.

He stepped forward slightly, just enough for the light to catch him properly this time, but not enough to close the distance between them.

“I did.”

That was it.

No explanation.

No apology.

Brielle tilted her head slightly, studying him the same way he had studied her earlier. “And now you’re following me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, something almost amused flickering there before it settled again. “No.”

Her brows pulled together slightly. “Then this is coincidence?”

“No,” he said again, more quietly this time.

That should have been frustrating.

It wasn’t.

“Then what is it?” she asked.

He held her gaze for a second longer than necessary, like he was deciding how much to give her.

“Timing,” he said.

Brielle let out a small breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s not helpful.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

The honesty in it caught her off guard more than anything else he’d said.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The space between them wasn’t tense—not in the way it had been with Caelan. It felt different. Steadier. Like something was building instead of breaking.

“You keep saying you know me,” Brielle said after a moment. “But I’ve never seen you before tonight.”

“You weren’t meant to,” he replied.

That made her pause.

“What does that mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze shifted slightly, not away from her, but toward something deeper—like he was measuring the moment against something she couldn’t see.

“It means,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

That didn’t make sense.

And somehow—

It did.

Brielle exhaled slowly, her grip on her shoes loosening slightly as she took a small step closer without realizing she was doing it.

“Then you should probably start explaining,” she said.

His gaze dropped briefly to the movement before returning to her face, that same faint, controlled expression settling back into place.

“Soon,” he said.

She frowned slightly. “You said that already.”

“And I meant it.”

The frustration was there now, faint but real, threading through the steadiness she’d been holding onto.

“Do you always talk like that?” she asked.

His expression shifted again, just enough to suggest he might actually be considering the question. “Only when it matters.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is,” he said quietly. “Just not the one you want yet.”

Brielle stared at him for a second longer, then let out a breath, shaking her head slightly.

“You’re annoying.”

That did it.

A real smile this time—small, brief, but genuine enough to change something in the way he looked at her.

“So I’ve been told.”

The moment stretched, quieter now, less tense, but no less charged.

And then—

From inside the house, a voice carried faintly through the night, louder than the others, cutting through the music just enough to reach them.

“Brielle!”

Wren.

Brielle glanced back toward the house, the connection to the moment loosening just enough to remind her where she actually was.

When she turned back—

He was already stepping away.

“Wait—” she started.

He stopped, just briefly, his back half-turned now.

“Don’t disappear again,” she said, before she could stop herself.

There was a pause.

Then, without turning back fully, he said, “I won’t.”

And this time—

When he walked away—

She believed him.