#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 much

horn in the distance snaps me back momentarily, but my wolf’s voice, deeper

changed. She’s not the

now, more intricate, more nuanced. You have

her tonight?” I spit. “The lengths

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

but say them out loud, unable to

soft chuckle punctuating

something.”

help the growl that rises in my throat, frustration

every dam n second.”

clear. “Wanting and acting on

now. You can’t

air fill my lungs. It’s hard to

what my wolf says.

I murmur, the weight of

trust,” my

assert and

in thought. The journey back to my

of my own space.

what I need to do. Tomorrow, I’ll

in agreement, its presence a constant reminder that this fight,

from over.

against the hardwood floors

gentle flicker of a

fingers mindlessly caressing the

and countless brooding sessions—much

my mind.

very mention of his name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Every time I think of

it’s not just Abby or Adam that burdens

on the table beside me, momentarily breaking my reverie. The

Gianna’s name, my ever-efficient secretary. Swiping to answer,

“What’s up, Gianna?”

hint of hesitation evident in the tone of her voice, “there’s something

know.”

on,” I urge, straightening

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

his coma,”

harder than I’d like to admit. My foster brother’s reawakening

My grip tightens

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