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

friends, then don’t expect any

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

I ask out loud. “If I ever have a chance with Abby again, am I going to

around her friends

my wolf remarks, a touch of reproach in

What

And I’m working d mn

voice tinged with bitterness. “But it’s like

willing to give me a chance

sees it,” my wolf whispers, his voice softening. “She might not fully realize it

allow you back

has.”

the words sink in, a tiny glimmer of

wolf is right. Maybe Abby does see the changes in me. And maybe, just maybe, that will

rebuild

phone buzzes on the coffee table, ripping me from my internal monologue. The caller

Gianna, my ever-efficient

“Hello?”

home next weekend,” she

meeting. Can you come?”

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

off

I say, gritting my

feeling the weight of my double life—the life

constant juggling act, and sometimes I drop

phone buzzes again, pulling me back to the present. This

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

calling?

answer, trying to keep my

with anxiety. “I had to get

lost. And—”

to get you,” I interrupt, my heart pounding. In a second, all

by a primal urge to

grab my coat and head for the door, locking my

time, my phone

I find myself mulling over what the hell is going on between Abby

other like a couple of lovestruck teens,

life because her best friend tells her to keep her distance. And now

the middle of the night when she needs me the

villain in their narrative, or just a

thought is cut short as my phone indicates that I’m

lit streets, eventually catching sight of her standing under