Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0262

Karl

The front door creaks loudly as I push it open, the sound echoing off the walls of the foyer to my all-too-quiet house.

I've just come home from the city, with Abby's words still fresh on my mind. Mistake. Shouldn't have happened. Never happening again. It feels like tiny knives being stuck under my skin over and over again.

All I ever did was try to make her realize that I still cared—that I still loved her. And yet, no matter how hard I tried, she pushed me away.

I toss my keys onto the small table by the door with a sigh. My wolf stirs inside of me, like a persistent nudge in the back of my mind. He wants me to go back, but I won't. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. God, I don’t know.

But right now, I don’t have time to think about Abby. My pack needs me. When I step into my office, there's already a pile of papers waiting for me on my desk. It's a welcome distraction right now, and before I know it, I've been lost in paperwork for hours.

By the time I even look up from the pile of papers sitting in front of me, the afternoon light has already waned. It's the tail end of sunset now, with nothing but a few golden rays peeking out over the pink horizon.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. Sharp, insistent. I know who it is before he even speaks. Marcus, my Beta. A man who knows me almost as well as I know myself, maybe better in moments like these.

“Karl?” His voice is muffled through the wood, but I can already hear the concern in his voice. "Come in," I call out, more curtly than I intend.

The door swings open and Marcus steps inside, his eyes quickly taking in my disheveled state.

“You look like hell,” he says, never one to mince words. He takes a seat opposite me, his eyes scanning the pile of papers on my desk.

“I feel like it, too,” I admit with a wry chuckle, leaning back and letting out a breath that I didn't know I was holding.

Marcus is silent for a moment, his gaze steady, before he speaks. “The pack’s talking, Karl.”

I bark a short, humorless laugh. “What else is new?” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“You're distracted. It's Abby, isn't it?” He isn't asking; he knows.

I look away. “I'm fine. It's over with Abby. That's all there is to it.”

He nods, accepting my words at face value, but I can see the gears turning behind his steely gaze. “Listen, Karl,” he says, his voice taking on that tone that I know all too well, that tone that says that I'm about to receive some counsel that I—more often than not—sorely need. “With the Alpha party coming up, it would be a good look for you to show up with a date.”

A date. The word hits me like a ton of bricks. Abby was supposed to be my date, but now, I'm not so sure.

"And why would I need that?" I ask, cocking my head to the side.

He sighs. “Look, with your brother on the verge of waking up, you want all the strength in your approval ratings you can get,” he says. “And, as draconian as it sounds, an Alpha with a family on the horizon is going to be better off than one without. And given your recent ratings, I think you'd want that edge over him.”

Marcus watches me, waiting for a response, but I remain silent, unsure of what to say. He's completely right; if I want to hold my position as Alpha over my brother, then I need what my brother doesn't have.

A family.

But my family was supposed to be Abby. Look, I know I fucked up, but I thought I made it up to her. And yet, after everything, she’s still pushing me away.

“Just think about it,” Marcus urges as though sensing my trepidation. “It would be good for you, good for the pack. Your approval ratings are slipping; this could bolster them.”

Without another word, Marcus stands and slips out of the room. I watch him leave, then wince slightly as the door clicks shut behind him.

Approval ratings. Politics. None of that should matter when it comes to something as profound as family. But Marcus has a point. As Alpha, my personal desires have to take a back seat to the needs of the pack.

I have responsibilities after all, and perhaps it might just be time to meet them head-on.

A couple of days go by, and I can’t get Marcus’ words out of my mind.

Finally, by the third day, I've awoken with a new resolution in my head: I might not be looking for a family just yet in Abby's wake, but I do need a date to the Alpha party. And if that's the case, then I might as well go with someone who could possibly fill that role down the road.

Far, far down the road. But down the road nonetheless.

Despite my wolf's protests, I reach for my phone without a second thought. Marcus picks up on the first ring.

“I need you to find me a date for the party,” I say before he can even get a hello in. It's direct, perhaps too direct, but there's no need to be subtle right now.

There's a beat of silence on the other end before he speaks. “What changed your mind?”

My wolf bristles at the question, and I push down the instinctive annoyance. “Not so much that my mind's changed. More like..."

“Duty,” he says, finishing for me.

“Right. Listen, just make a list,” I say with a newfound conviction. “Good prospects only.”

"Alright, boss. I'll get right on it.”

Later that day, I'm ensconced in more paperwork when Marcus slips into my office, a stack of papers in his hand.

“This the list?" I ask, holding my hand out.

He nods and hands it to me. “Twenty of the packs most eligible bachelorettes. Heiresses, all of them. And attractive, too.”

My wolf snarls inside of me. “What about their merits?” he asks. “Are they intelligent? Dedicated? Accompli—"

“Enough,” I reply as I scan the list. “It's not important right now.”

“But Karl—"

“I said, enough.”

When I'm finished looking over the list, I hand it back to Marcus with a stiff nod. “Arrange interviews. This Saturday. I want to speak with each of them.”

“Interviews, Karl?” His eyebrow arches in surprise. “This isn't a job opening.”

“It's an important event,” I reply, steadfast. “I want to make sure whoever accompanies me understands what's expected of them. We'll get a luncheon set up and I'll speak with them all then. Make sure there's a dress code.”

Marcus looks at me for a long, silent moment, and I meet his gaze, unflinching. Finally, he nods. "Alright. Interviews on Saturday. Luncheon. I'll send out the invites.”

“Thank you,” I say, and as he turns to leave, organizing yet another of my demands, I try to ignore the hollowness that expands in my chest.

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