Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 40: A Way Out
Karl

The sting of rejection pulses through me, acute and raw, as I distance myself from Abby’s place.

My footsteps echo through the quiet city streets, the usual hustle and bustle of the nightlife seemingly

dimmed tonight. Each step aligns with the rapid beat of my heart.

I can’t shake the feel of her, the nearness of our last moment.

Abby looked beautiful. She clearly put a lot of effort into her appearance today; her hair and nails

looked freshly done, she was wearing makeup, and a gorgeous dress.

A few years ago, I might have been bothered by the way that she dressed tonight. But lately, for some

reason I’ve been finding myself attracted to it. She’s se xy, always has been, but is somehow even

sexier now.

But what pi sses me off more than anything is that she was dressing like that for another man who

doesn’t even show any interest in her despite the ring he put on her finger. What gives? Why won’t she

just leave him already?

Shoving my hands deep into my pockets, I aimlessly kick a small rock ahead of me. Its journey,

haphazard and unpredictable, mirrors the state of my own emotions.

“She wanted me,” I find myself mumbling aloud, holding onto the raw intensity of our almost-kiss.

My wolf stirs within, a familiar presence anchoring my thoughts. “She did,” he rumbles in agreement.

“But she held back. If you’d just be patient and let her come to you, she’d see the depth of our love”

“I did let her come to me,” I reply. “She’s the one who called me tonight. But at the end of it, she still

can’t stop thinking about that pr ick.”

My wolf growls in annoyance. “Give her time.”

The anger is right there, bubbling at the surface. “Time? And for what? For Adam?” I snap, frustration

bleeding into every word. “Who leaves their fiancée high and dry like that? Especially when she clearly

in so

in the distance snaps me back

She’s not the young

now, more intricate, more nuanced. You have

her tonight?” I spit. “The

dress…” The words come out more as a growl. I don’t

but say them out loud, unable to contain my

chuckle punctuating my thoughts. “She resisted you.

something.”

the growl that rises in my throat,

every dam n second.”

clear.

She’s cautious now. You can’t

halt, drawing in a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. It’s hard to admit, but there’s truth

what my wolf says.

be right,” I murmur, the weight of realization pressing

the change. Be genuine. Earn her trust,” my wolf advises,

and when to

back to my apartment is nearing its

face the solitude of my own space. But

of Abby, of what I need

its presence a constant

from over.

…

hardwood floors of my apartment, dancing in

the gentle flicker of a solitary candle on the coffee

contemplation, my fingers mindlessly caressing the leather armrest

weathered from time and countless brooding sessions—much like the

my mind.

name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Every time I think

to intervene. But tonight, it’s not just Abby

phone buzzes to life on the table beside me, momentarily breaking my

my ever-efficient secretary. Swiping to answer, I

“What’s up, Gianna?”

hint of hesitation evident in the tone

know.”

I urge, straightening

seen around your foster brother’s residence. There’s talk that he

his coma,”

I’d like to admit. My foster

tightens unconsciously around the phone. “Do