#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 and

not the young

intricate, more nuanced.

hold. “Did you see her tonight?” I spit. “The lengths she went to for him? The

come out more as a growl. I don’t keep them in my

say them out loud, unable to

a soft chuckle punctuating my thoughts.

something.”

my throat, frustration evident. “She wants

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 simply push and expect

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

what my wolf says.

I murmur, the weight of realization pressing

change. Be genuine. Earn her trust,” my wolf advises, his tone firm. “A

assert and when to

lost in thought. The journey back to my apartment is nearing its end, and I’m not

my own space. But I can’t wander the

Abby, of what I

rumbles in agreement, its presence a constant

from over.

evening shadows stretch long against the hardwood

of a solitary candle on the coffee

the leather armrest of my

weathered from time and countless brooding sessions—much like

my mind.

name leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Every

to intervene. But tonight, it’s not just

life on the table beside me, momentarily breaking

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

“What’s up, Gianna?”

in the tone of her voice,

know.”

I urge,

around your foster brother’s residence. There’s

his coma,” she

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

of our pack. My grip tightens unconsciously around the phone.

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