#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
so much
me back momentarily, but my wolf’s voice,
“She’s changed. She’s not the young girl we once knew.
intricate, more nuanced. You have
takes hold. “Did you see her tonight?” I spit.
a growl. I don’t keep
out loud,
a soft chuckle punctuating my
something.”
in my throat, frustration evident. “She wants me. It’s
every dam n second.”
his rebuttal, his wisdom clear. “Wanting and
can’t simply
breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. It’s hard
what my wolf says.
murmur, the weight of realization
her the change. Be genuine. Earn her trust,” my wolf advises, his tone firm. “A
and when to
moment, lost in thought. The journey back to my apartment is nearing its end, and I’m not
solitude of my own space.
of what I need
a constant
from over.
…
long against the hardwood floors of my apartment, dancing
flicker of a solitary candle on the
the leather armrest of my chair. It’s an
from time and countless brooding sessions—much like the thoughts
my mind.
a sour taste
tempted to intervene. But tonight, it’s
life on the table beside
my ever-efficient secretary. Swiping to answer, I keep my
“What’s up, Gianna?”
she starts, a hint of hesitation evident in the tone of her voice,
know.”
on,” I
been seen around your foster brother’s residence. There’s talk that
his coma,” she
I’d like to admit. My foster
pack. My grip tightens unconsciously around the phone. “Do
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