#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.

a jerk to Chloe,” she’d told me, her voice heavy with disappointment when I tried to

my friends, then don’t expect any affection from

the weight of the past settling

I ask out loud. “If I ever have a chance

tiptoeing around her friends

remarks, a touch of reproach in his tone. “You

her. What

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

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

me a chance to prove I’ve

his voice softening. “She

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

has.”

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

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

rebuild

my phone buzzes on the coffee table,

Gianna, my ever-efficient

“Hello?”

home next weekend,” she says

meeting. Can you come?”

been skirting ever since I moved to

it off any

I say, gritting my teeth. “I’ll be

weight of my double life—the life I left behind and the one I’m struggling to

juggling act, and sometimes I drop

me back to the present.

a sense of dread mingling with anticipation. It’s late. Why

calling?

answer, trying to keep

anxiety. “I had to get off the subway.

lost. And—”

I interrupt, my

replaced by a primal

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

in my car in record time, my

what

flour at each other like a

her best friend tells her to

in the middle of the night

the villain in their narrative, or just a casualty of their

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

eventually catching sight of her standing under

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