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.

to Chloe,” she’d told me, her voice heavy

friends, then don’t expect

hands down my face, the weight of the

loud. “If I ever have a chance

tiptoeing around her friends who can’t

weren’t the best husband,” my wolf remarks, a touch of reproach in his

What

I screwed up. And I’m working d mn hard

tinged with bitterness. “But it’s like

to give me a chance to prove

voice softening. “She

wouldn’t allow you back into her

has.”

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

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

to rebuild what

table, ripping

my ever-efficient

“Hello?”

come home next weekend,” she says without

meeting. Can you come?”

been skirting ever since I moved

it off

say, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be

weight of my double life—the life I

a constant juggling act, and sometimes

cue, my phone buzzes again, pulling me back to the present. This time, it’s Abby. My

a sense of dread mingling

calling?

I answer, trying to keep my voice

anxiety. “I had to get off the

lost. And—”

coming to get you,” I interrupt,

a primal

grab my coat and head for the door, locking my apartment with an urgency

in my car in record time,

myself mulling over what

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

life because her best friend tells her to keep her distance. And now here I am,

in the middle of the night when she needs

their narrative, or just a casualty

short as my phone indicates that

sight of her standing under