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.

Chloe,” she’d told me, her voice heavy with disappointment when

friends, then don’t expect any

groan, dragging my hands down my face, the weight of the

to be?” I ask out loud. “If I ever have a chance

tiptoeing around her

touch of reproach in his tone. “You left

What do

screwed up. And I’m working d mn hard to be a better

snap, my voice tinged with bitterness. “But it’s like no one can

me

his voice softening. “She might not fully realize it yet, but she

you back into her life, even in

has.”

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

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

to rebuild

coffee table, ripping me from my internal

my

“Hello?”

weekend,” she says without preamble. “Your Council has

meeting. Can you come?”

skirting ever since I moved to the city. I realize

it off any

gritting my teeth.

life—the life I left behind

act, and sometimes I

me back to the present. This time, it’s Abby. My

the green button, a sense of dread mingling with anticipation.

calling?

I answer, trying to keep my

her voice tinged with anxiety. “I had to get off the subway.

lost. And—”

I’m coming to get you,” I interrupt, my heart

replaced by a primal urge to

coat and head for the door, locking my apartment

in record time, my phone guiding me to

I find myself mulling over what

moment we’re throwing flour at each other like a couple of lovestruck teens,

tells her

the middle of the

villain in their narrative, or

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

lit streets, eventually catching sight