#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
in the distance snaps me back momentarily, but my wolf’s voice, deeper
changed. She’s not the young
intricate, more nuanced. You have to
“Did you see her tonight?” I spit. “The lengths she went to
come out more as a growl. I don’t
say them out loud, unable
my wolf muses, a soft chuckle punctuating
something.”
help the growl that rises in my throat, frustration evident. “She wants me. It’s palpable. I felt
every dam n second.”
his rebuttal, his wisdom clear. “Wanting and acting on it are worlds apart. You
She’s cautious now. You can’t
deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs. It’s hard to admit, but there’s
what my wolf says.
be right,” I murmur, the
genuine. Earn her trust,” my wolf advises, his tone firm. “A
assert and
journey back to my
of my own space. But I
of Abby, of what I need to do. Tomorrow, I’ll
My wolf rumbles in agreement, its presence a constant
from over.
…
against the hardwood floors
flicker of a solitary candle on
fingers mindlessly caressing the leather armrest
time and countless brooding sessions—much
my mind.
mention of his name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Every time I think
to intervene. But tonight, it’s not just Abby or Adam
the table beside me, momentarily breaking my reverie.
ever-efficient secretary. Swiping to answer, I keep my
“What’s up, Gianna?”
of hesitation evident in the tone of her voice, “there’s
know.”
I urge, straightening
around your foster brother’s residence.
coma,” she
like to
My grip tightens unconsciously around
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