Chasing His Kickass Luna Back
Chapter 0277

Karl

The clink of silverware and the murmur of polite conversation surround me, but I feel like I'm underwater, like everything is distant and muffled.

I'm here, but I'm also not here at the same time—my mind is a thousand miles away, tangled in thoughts of Abby. As I lazily stir my drink with my straw, I can't help but wonder...

What's she doing right now? Wowing the judges, hopefully.

Across from me sits a woman named Marissa, her laughter ringing out a bit too loudly as she tosses her perfectly coiffed hair.

“And then I told the salesperson, “Do you know who I am?’ I mean, really, they should've known,” she giggles, sipping her champagne with an air of self-satisfaction.

“Must have been quite the oversight,” I reply blandly, the words tasting like cardboard in my mouth. The event is a perfect array of the pack’s most eligible bachelorettes, each one more vibrant and vivacious than the last—or so they seem on the surface.

But as the afternoon wears on, everything seems to blend together into one big amalgamation of self-absorption and princess-like entitlement.

I turn to the woman on my right, Jessica, her dress a striking red that seems to hint at something fiery and passionate. But when she speaks, her words are calculated, measured, each one designed to impress rather than anything else.

“I just adore your work, Karl. You have such a... strong presence,” she says, her hand fluttering to rest delicately on her collarbone as she bats her false eyelashes.

“That's kind of you, Jessica. And you work in...?"

"Oh, I don't work, darling,” she chuckles, a sound devoid of any real humor. “I prefer to focus on my social engagements and charity events.”

Of course. “Noble pursuits,” I murmur, my smile feeling more like a grimace.

But it's not just Jessica. There's Lisa, who hasn't shut up about her father’s private jet since she got here. There's Samantha, who keeps biting her lip every time she glances at me. There's Meg, who is clearly here for the I*******m pictures.

Everything feels the same. Fake, fake, fake. I swear, it's like they'll all turn into pumpkins when they leave.

I slip away from the table to catch a breather, but it's not long before I'm sucked into another conversation with someone else. Catherine? Caroline? I can’t remember.

“Have you been to Paris, Karl?" she asks, her hand resting on my shoulder in a way that almost makes me recoil.

“Not for a while,” I reply stiffly.

She chuckles. “We must go together. I know all the good hotels.”

“I'm sure you do,” I muster with a tense smile. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Finally, I manage to slip away. I make a pit stop in the restroom to splash some water on my face, to remind myself why I'm here. But it seems as though I can't seem to come up with any good reasons. “They're not her,” my wolf says, agitated.

I almost scoff. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

“So leave,” he says. “They're not good enough. Go to her. She misses you.”

But I can't. I have to see this luncheon through, have to find a date to the Alpha party. And time is ticking.

I decide to return to the luncheon with a new resolve: to ask the women about their interests beyond the glitz, searching for a spark, something real. There has to be something beneath the surface, right? Something to draw me in.

But their answers are meaningless.

"Oh, I like photography,” Meg says, swiping on her phone. “My *******m follower count goes up by the day.”

“Is shopping a hobby?” Marissa giggles.

“I prefer the... finer thing in life,” Catherine or Caroline or whatever her name is says as she twirls a strand of hair around her finger.

A woman named Elise turns to me, her smile practiced. “And what about you, Karl? What drives you, really?”

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