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

so much

in the distance snaps me back momentarily, but my

She’s not the young girl we once

more intricate, more nuanced.

I spit. “The lengths she went to for him?

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

should, but say them out loud, unable to contain

chuckle punctuating my thoughts. “She

something.”

help the growl that rises in my throat, frustration evident. “She wants me. It’s palpable. I

every dam n second.”

rebuttal, his wisdom clear. “Wanting and acting on it are worlds apart. You

heart. She’s cautious now. You can’t

drawing in a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. It’s hard

what my wolf says.

right,” I murmur, the

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

and when to

thought. The journey back to my apartment is nearing

own space. But I

what I

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

from over.

…

hardwood floors of my apartment, dancing in

flicker of a solitary candle

my fingers mindlessly caressing the leather armrest of my chair. It’s

time and countless brooding sessions—much like the thoughts whirling

my mind.

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

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

life on the table beside

Swiping to answer, I keep my voice

“What’s up, Gianna?”

she starts, a hint of hesitation evident in the tone of

know.”

I urge,

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

his coma,” she

to admit. My foster

dynamics of our pack. My grip tightens unconsciously around the phone. “Do