Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 365

Karl

The mansion is dimly lit and quiet as I slip in through the kitchen window; much unlike the way it was earlier when it seemed as if everyone and their mother was attending Damon’s gala. That could be either a curse or a blessing; if there are no guards, then I should be able to easily slip around in search of Abby.

But, with no crowds to sneak through this time, I could also get caught before I can ever find Abby.

I start by carefully peeking my head out of the kitchen, where I’m met with a dimly lit—and rather empty—hallway. I don’t see any security cameras just from a cursory look, but I can’t be too careful, so I decide to keep my hood up and maintain a casual look as I walk down the hall.

At this late hour, I would imagine that the night security is likely nodding off or at least paying little attention; maybe if I can just look like I belong here at a glance, that will be enough to buy myself some time to find Abby.

Hopefully.

“This damn mansion is like a maze,” I whisper under my breath to my wolf. “Abby could be anywhere in here.”

My wolf growls in agreement. I turn a corner, checking around the bend before I do so, then keep going down the empty hallway. All the while, I keep my eyes sharp and my ears open for anything; any sign of Abby, any sound of a struggle, even the sound of a casual conversation.

And that’s when I hear it: footsteps. Heavy ones, like men’s boots, and voices.

Guards.

I quickly dart into a nearby alcove where there’s a window looking out on the back gardens. There’s a heavy velvet curtain pulled to the side, which I slip behind just in time for the guards to walk past.

“Man, that was some party,” one of the guards says, his speech slightly slurred.

The other guard chuckles. “Hey, you gonna share some of that or what?”

“Nope. I’m drinking this whole bottle myself.”

“Come on, let me just have a sip or else I’ll tell the boss that you stole from his party.”

The guards pass by without a clue that I’m right here, holding my breath behind this curtain. I listen keenly to them all the way down the hallway until their heavy footsteps and their drunken conversation is a mere echo, and that’s when I slip out and continue my excursion to find Abby.

I’m not walking for much longer, however, when I notice something; a scent on the breeze, faint but present nonetheless.

I stop in my tracks and sniff the air. My pupils dilate the moment that sweet, tantalizing scent reaches my nostrils, and my wolf begins to stir inside of me.

Abby.

“She’s releasing her scent,” my wolf says. “She really does need us. Follow it, quick, before it disappears again!”

My wolf doesn’t need to tell me twice. Before he can even finish his sentence, I’m already bolting down the hall, guided by Abby’s sweet scent. My feet barely make a sound as I move silently through the corridors, my head on a swivel and my eyes piercing the night like a sharp knife.

Finally, the scent becomes stronger and stronger until I reach a set of heavy wooden doors. But I stop in my tracks when I see the butler—the same one who led me to Damon’s study the other night—standing there, guarding the entrance.

The butler’s eyes widen as he sees me there. “Gua—” He begins to call the guards, but I move too quickly. Before he can finish, I’m shoving him out of the way and bursting into the room that he’s standing in front of.

“Where is Abby?”

The words fly out of my mouth before Damon, sitting in a plush chair by a fireplace, can even rise to his feet. My chest heaves, my eyes scanning the room. I can smell her here, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

Damon’s eyes lock onto mine and he slowly, cautiously rises from his chair.

“Karl,” he says, holding up his hand to stop the butler who is scurrying in behind me. “What are you doing here?”

“Where are you hiding her?” I insist. “I know what you did to the others—how you drugged them and took Abby away.”

Damon blinks at me with confusion. “Pardon? I would never do any such thing,” he says calmly. “Abby is likely fast asleep in her room by now. I can take you to her if you wish, but—”

“Help!”

Both of us freeze at the sound of a muffled voice coming from somewhere behind a bookshelf. My eyes dart over to the source of the voice, followed by frantic banging. Abby. She’s in here after all, hidden away.

“You snake,” I growl, advancing on Damon. “Set her free. Now!”

Damon almost seems to shrink beneath me as I approach. My eyes flash dangerously, and his show nothing but fear.

“I-I-I don’t know what that was,” he stammers. “The wind, likely, or—”

“I won’t ask again.” My hand shoots out and I grab a fistful of his expensive silk shirt, balling it up tight as I yank him closer—so close that our noses almost touch as I growl into his face. “Let her go, or I’ll fucking kill you.”

What follows is a long, tense silence before the butler behind us finally speaks. “Sir—”

“Be gone, Edgar,” Damon says, his voice trembling. “I… I can handle this.”

A moment later, the door clicks shut behind us. I still hold on tight to Damon’s shirt, determined not to let him go until Abby is freed.

But that’s when I feel it; the knife against my belly. It presses into my stomach, sharp and cold and threatening. And even then, I don’t pull away.

“Careful, Karl,” Damon whispers, his upper lip curling back to reveal his teeth. “You wouldn’t want to stain your shirt, would you?”

“Set her free.” I tighten my grip on his shirt and grit my teeth as the knife begins digging into my flesh. “Now.”

Damon clicks his tongue. “I can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before I can react, the knife plunges into my abdomen. I gasp and stagger backwards, releasing my iron grip on Damon’s shirt. That sneaky little…

“I did tell you to be careful,” Damon says coolly as I stumble and grip the edge of the chair, my other hand gripping the handle of the knife. “I even gave you a chance to leave—not once, but twice. But you’re stubborn, as always, and you came back.”

“Of course I would come back for her.” I swallow the bile that’s rising in my throat. Hot blood begins to gush forth around the knife’s blade, soaking my shirt and the carpet around me. But I can hardly feel it—maybe because of the adrenaline, or maybe because I can’t stop until Abby is freed.

Maybe both.

Damon chuckles. “She doesn’t love you,” he says. “She loves—”

“Me. She loves me.” Before Damon can finish, I’m ripping the knife out of my gut with a frenzied growl. I’m lunging forward, the blood-stained blade dripping as I point it at Damon’s throat. His white skin and silken shirt stain with the dark crimson color, and he freezes, his mouth agape.

“She loves me,” I repeat as I press the blade into his throat. I ignore my pain, my agony, as I press my hand into my wound to keep the blood from flowing. “And I’d kill for her in a heartbeat.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence as Damon stares at me. For a moment, I think I might fall before he caves. For a moment, I think he might win.

But then those green eyes of his flash with fear and mist over with tears, and his lower lip begins quivering; like a little kid who’s been caught breaking an expensive vase.

“P-Please don’t kill me,” he whispers. “Please—”

“Free her. Now.”

“Y-Yes, I’ll free her. Just… please don’t…”

I let out another low growl and gesture with the knife toward the bookcase, where Abby’s frenzied cries haven’t once stopped this entire time; I hardly noticed them during my frenzy, but I notice them now. Damon sputters and staggers over to the bookcase—his shoe catches on the carpet and he falls, then scrambles back to his feet as panicked sobs escape his lips.

“Pathetic,” my wolf growls.

“Pathetic indeed.” Here is a man who calls himself a prince when in reality he is neither of those things; rather, he’s a sniveling brat, a loathsome, spoiled child who caves at the first hint of danger.

“Please, please don’t kill me,” Damon mumbles through his snot and his tears as he shakily begins groping at books on the shelf. “P-Please—”

“Shut up!” I growl. “I won’t kill you, you miserable whelp. Just open the door before I change my mind.”

Damon lets loose a pathetic whimper, and finally, he pulls out a book on the shelf. A moment later, one of the shelves begins to move to the side.

And there stands Abby, her eyes wide as she takes me in. “Karl…” she breathes.

“Come to me, Abby.”

She doesn’t waste a moment. While Damon sobs and snivels by the bookshelf, Abby shoves past him, knocking his pathetic, writhing body to the floor. Her blonde hair billows around her as she runs into my arms.

My blood stains both of our shirts, but it doesn’t matter anymore.