Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 58: Getaway Driver
I’m pacing my living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, lost in my thoughts. The night has been a

coc ktail of emotions—high spirits at the party, laughter with Abby… And then, of course, there was the

palpable tension with Chloe.

I thought I had managed to keep my feelings under wraps, maintain the casual facade. But Chloe had

to go and ruin it, filling the air with words like poison darts.

“Stay away from him,” she had whispered to Abby, not knowing that I was within earshot.

Who the hell does she think she is?

I throw myself onto the leather chair, my fingers gripping the armrests, the echo of Chloe’s words still

fresh in my mind. “Stay away from him,” she had said, as though her voice could erect a wall between

Abby and me—a wall I’m not certain even I could scale at this point.

“What is her problem?” I growl to myself, my thoughts a whirlwind of frustration.

“She clearly dislikes you,” my wolf interjects, his voice a rumbling presence in the depths of my

consciousness.

“You think I can’t see that? And it’s not the first time, either,” I retort, my mind slipping back in time, to

another party, another confrontation.

It had been a similar occasion. Friends, laughter, a lively atmosphere.

Abby had been radiant, the center of my universe. But then Chloe had started arguing with me. About

what, I can barely remember.

What I do recall is the anger, my territorial instincts flaring up, the undeniable urge to assert my

dominance. I had ended up kicking her out of the party.

The aftermath was equally vivid. Abby had been furious, her eyes ablaze with a fire I had rarely seen.

“You’re trying to ruin my friendships, Karl,” she had yelled, her voice strained with emotion. She had left

with Chloe, her best friend, her confidant. Abby hadn’t come home for two days. When she finally did,

the atmosphere between us had been colder than a winter night.

she’d told me, her voice

be nice to my friends, then

hands down my face, the weight of the

ever have a chance with Abby again, am I

around her friends who

the best husband,” my wolf remarks, a touch of reproach

her. What do you

up. And I’m working d mn hard to be a better man—to be the

voice tinged with bitterness. “But it’s

willing to give me a chance to prove I’ve

sees it,” my wolf whispers, his voice softening. “She might

she wouldn’t allow you back into her

has.”

the chair, letting the words sink in, a tiny glimmer of

see the changes in me. And maybe, just maybe, that

to rebuild what

the coffee table, ripping

my ever-efficient

“Hello?”

home next weekend,” she

meeting. Can you come?”

ever since I moved to the

it off

say, gritting my teeth.

feeling the weight of my double life—the life I left behind and the one I’m struggling

juggling act, and sometimes I drop the

my phone buzzes again, pulling me

dread mingling with anticipation. It’s late. Why

calling?

answer, trying to keep my

tinged with anxiety. “I had to get off the subway. I’m a

lost. And—”

me your location. I’m coming to get you,” I interrupt, my heart pounding. In a

by a primal

the door, locking my apartment with an urgency that mirrors

I’m in my car in record time, my phone guiding

what the hell

throwing flour at each other like a couple of lovestruck teens, and the

her to keep her distance. And now here

middle of the night

villain in their narrative,

thought is cut short as my phone indicates that I’m nearing Abby’s location. My

lit streets, eventually catching sight of her standing