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.

me, her voice heavy with

be nice to my friends, then don’t

my face, the weight of the past settling

ask out loud. “If I ever have a

life tiptoeing around her friends who can’t

my wolf remarks, a touch of reproach

her. What do you

And I’m working d mn hard

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

to give me a chance to

softening. “She might not fully realize it

you. Otherwise, she wouldn’t allow you back into her

has.”

letting the words sink in, a tiny glimmer

see the changes in me. And maybe,

to rebuild what

phone buzzes on the coffee table, ripping me from

Gianna, my

“Hello?”

weekend,” she says without

meeting. Can you come?”

The pack. The responsibilities I’ve been skirting ever since I moved to the

off

say, gritting my

life—the life I left behind and

a constant juggling act, and sometimes I drop

phone buzzes again, pulling me back to

dread mingling with anticipation. It’s late. Why

calling?

answer, trying to keep my voice

It’s me,” she stammers, her voice 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 second, all

replaced by a primal urge to

and head for the door, locking my apartment with an

in my car in record time, my phone guiding

mulling over what the hell

other like a couple of lovestruck teens, and

her life because her best friend tells her to keep her

of the night when she needs

in their narrative, or just a

cut short as my phone indicates that I’m

catching sight of her standing under a