#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.

were a jerk to Chloe,” she’d told me, her voice

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

my face, the weight of the

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

around her friends who can’t stand

touch of reproach in his

her. What

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

Abby deserves,” I snap, my voice tinged with bitterness. “But it’s like no one can see

give me a chance

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

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

has.”

chair, letting the words sink in, a tiny glimmer of hope in a sea

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

to rebuild what I’ve

on the coffee table, ripping

Gianna, my ever-efficient

“Hello?”

need to come home next weekend,” she says without preamble. “Your Council has

meeting. Can you come?”

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

off

I say, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be

up, feeling the weight of my double life—the life I

juggling act, and sometimes I

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

of dread mingling with anticipation. It’s

calling?

answer, trying to keep my

with anxiety. “I had to get off the subway. I’m

lost. And—”

I’m coming to get you,” I interrupt,

by a primal urge

head for the door, locking my

I’m in my car in record time, my phone guiding me to her

mulling over what the hell

flour at each other like a couple

friend tells her

middle of the night when she needs me

their narrative, or

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

sight

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