Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 31

Bryan's pov

The walls in this damn house were starting to choke me. Every corner reeked of control, power, and all the expectations I never asked for. My father's words still rang in my ears like the aftermath of a gunshot—sharp, ugly, and impossible to ignore. And the punch? Well, that was just tradition, wasn't it? A reminder of what happened when I didn't bend to his version of strength.

I stormed into my room, yanked my shirt off, and threw it across the floor. My knuckles were already red from how tight I'd been clenching my fists, but I didn't care. I needed a release. Something that didn't involve glares, comparisons, or damn horses.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and dialed without thinking. He picked up on the second ring.

"Yo," Gavin's voice drawled, clearly still half-asleep.

"You up?"

He laughed. "Now I am. What's up?"

"I need to get out. Tonight. Club. Girls. Drinks. The whole damn show."

There was a pause. Then the sound of rustling sheets.

"Trouble in daddy paradise again?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes."

"Alright, alright. I hear you. Let me call Kade and Troy. Give me an hour."

I hung up without responding. The silence in the room was still thick. Suffocating. I needed noise, lights, the smell of alcohol and sweat—something that didn't remind me I was trapped in a cage with a title slapped on it.

I showered quickly, not because I cared how I looked, but because it gave me something to do. Threw on a black button-down, left the top two open, and paired it with jeans and boots. The reflection in the mirror stared back at me with nothing behind the eyes. I didn't even flinch.

By the time I got outside, Gavin was already in his car honking like an idiot. Kade was in the passenger seat, flipping through music on his phone. Troy, sitting in the back, held out a flask like it was a peace offering.

"You look like someone kicked your puppy," Troy commented as I got in.

"Shut up and drive," I muttered.

The city wasn't too far, but the drive felt longer than usual. I stared out the window most of the way, barely listening to the guys talk about some new girl Gavin was hooking up with or how Kade nearly got into a fight at his gym last weekend. I didn't want stories. I wanted a distraction.

We pulled up to one of the underground clubs outside the pack territory—neutral ground, mostly. Loud music pulsed from inside, the kind that made the floor vibrate under your feet. Bouncers stood outside with blank faces and thicker arms than a tree trunk, but they recognized us instantly. Being a wolf had its perks. Being a ranked wolf had more.

We got ushered in like royalty.

Neon lights bathed the walls. The air was a cocktail of sweat, perfume, and desperation. Bodies moved like they were possessed by the beat, grinding, swaying, searching for something—attention, lust, a high.

I felt at home in this chaos.

Kade led us to our usual booth near the far corner. We weren't even fully seated before drinks started arriving. Whiskey, tequila, whatever poison you could name—it was there. Gavin didn't even wait. He popped the cap off a bottle and poured generously into every glass.

"To being young, wild, and gloriously irresponsible," he toasted.

We all raised our glasses. Mine barely touched my lips before it was empty.

"You came out hot tonight," Troy noted, eyeing me. "Rough day?"

"You could say that."

"Still brooding over the family mess?" Kade asked.

"Still got a father breathing down my neck," I replied.

Gavin leaned in. "You need something real to take the edge off."

"What do you have in mind?"

He smirked, turned, and pointed toward the dance floor. "Girls. Hot. Loose. Not looking for wedding rings."

I scanned the crowd lazily, not really caring, until I caught sight of a group near the bar. A girl in a tight emerald green dress caught my eye. Curves in all the right places. Laugh that could melt steel. She looked like she knew exactly how to ruin someone's night in the best possible way.

"Her," I said, motioning.

"Want me to set it up?" Gavin offered.

"I can walk," I said dryly, finishing my second drink.

I stood, adjusted my collar, and made my way through the crowd. She was leaning against the counter, twirling a straw between her fingers. I slid in beside her, casual, calm, not in the mood for games.

"Buy you a drink?"

She turned slowly, green eyes glinting. "Only if you're planning on staying longer than five minutes."

"I don't make promises I won't keep."

She smiled, the kind that promised trouble. "Then make one."

We didn't waste time. After a few flirty exchanges, a third round of drinks, and her hand on my knee, we were grinding on the dance floor. My body moved on instinct. She didn't care who was watching, and frankly, neither did I.

Eventually, Gavin and the others started howling from the booth, cheering like idiots.

"She's got him whipped already," Kade teased, holding up his phone like he was about to take a picture.

I flipped him off without looking.

By the time I dragged her back to the booth, her lipstick was smudged and my shirt was halfway unbuttoned.

"What's your name?" she asked, breathless.

"Does it matter?"

She laughed and leaned closer. "No, it really doesn't."

We drank more. We danced again. I forgot the packhouse. I forgot my father's fists and his politics. I forgot titles and arranged marriages and the weight of being the future alpha. For a few hours, I was just a guy in a club with liquor in his blood and a beautiful woman on his lap.

When we finally stumbled out around 3am, Gavin was practically carrying Kade, and Troy was trying to negotiate a ride home with a girl who could barely walk in a straight line.

The woman from earlier kissed my cheek and whispered something filthy in my ear before walking away without looking back.

Perfect.

I didn't ask for her number. I didn't want it.

On the way back to the territory, the car was filled with laughter and slurred stories I'd already forgotten before we reached the pack line.

No, I wasn't in love. I wasn't broken. I wasn't mourning some fairytale mate bond.

I was pissed.

Pissed that my life was a checklist I didn't get to write. Pissed that my father had already tied a rope around my future and was dragging me toward it like a beast on a leash. Pissed that I was expected to smile and thank him for every slap and every word that cut deeper than any blade.

I wasn't drinking to forget her.

I was drinking to forget me.