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.

told me, her voice heavy with disappointment when I tried to kiss

you can’t be nice to my friends, then don’t

my hands down my face, the weight of the past settling on my

“If I ever have a chance with Abby again, am I

life tiptoeing around her friends who

remarks, a touch of reproach in his tone.

her. What do you

okay? I know I screwed up. And I’m working d mn hard to be a better man—to be

with bitterness. “But it’s like no one can

even willing to give me a

my wolf whispers, his voice softening. “She might not fully realize it yet, but

back into her life, even in the

has.”

the words sink in, a tiny glimmer of hope in a

my wolf is right. Maybe Abby does see the changes in me. And

to rebuild what I’ve

the coffee table, ripping

my

“Hello?”

next weekend,” she says

meeting. Can you come?”

The responsibilities I’ve been skirting ever since I moved

off any

I say, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be

up, feeling the weight of my double life—the life I left behind and

a constant juggling act, and sometimes I drop the

if on cue, my phone buzzes again, pulling me back to the present. This

of dread mingling with anticipation. It’s late. Why would

calling?

I answer, trying to

it’s… It’s me,” she stammers, her voice tinged with anxiety. “I

lost. And—”

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

by a primal urge

door, locking my

my car in record time, my phone guiding me to her

mulling over what the hell is going on

like a couple of lovestruck teens,

tells her to keep her

middle of the night when she needs me the

villain in their narrative, or

as my phone indicates that I’m

catching sight of