Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 366

Abby

“P-Please don’t kill me! I’m sorry!”

Damon’s pathetic whines and whimpers cause Karl and I to roll our eyes as we shove him into the cell that he built for me. The snot and tears running down his face just further amplifies his look of pure pity; like a child who got caught raiding the cookie jar.

“No one’s going to kill you, Damon. Just get in there.”

It’s hard to believe that this spoiled little brat ever had me frightened for my life. It’s even harder to believe that he ever thought he could get away with it. And even more than that, it’s harder to believe that I ever fell for it.

Finally, the lock slides into place with a resounding click. I let out a small sigh of relief as Damon’s whines are muffled, but it’s short-lived; because when I turn, Karl is staggering backwards against the sofa.

“Shit,” I murmur. I bolt over to him and help lower him onto the couch. We were able to stanch the bleeding with some fabric from a curtain, but it won’t help for long. He’s losing enough blood to result in passing out at the very least.

“At least he was dumb enough to miss my organs,” Karl says with a wry chuckle, wincing as he leans down onto the plush sofa. He glances over at me, seeing my worried expression, and shakes his head. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“You don’t look fine.” I kneel down next to him and swat his hands away to peel back the makeshift bandage and look at the wound; it’s not too deep, but it’s deep enough to hurt like hell. He’s going to need to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

“Cops should be here any minute now.” Karl shuts his eyes against the pain. I can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard; he’s trying to look brave, but I know how much he’s hurting right now.

“I could kill him,” I whisper through my gritted teeth. “That fucker.”

“And bloody your beautiful hands?” Karl cracks one eye open and smirks at me. “I wouldn’t allow it.”

I can’t help but laugh back at him. “My hands are already bloodied with your blood, you know.”

“Touché.” He reaches forward and entwines his fingers with mine. His grip is still strong despite the blood loss, which is a good sign.

“I never should have taken this job,” I say softly. “God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Don’t.” Karl, with a grunt, manages to prop himself up onto one elbow and gives my hand a tight squeeze. “No one could have known, and besides… It’s over now.”

I grimace a bit as I look out the window. Off in the distance, I can just barely make out the red and blue glow of police lights coming our way. What surely awaits is, at the very least, a whirlwind of lawyers, court dates, and testimonies. “Or maybe it’s only just started.”

“You promise you’re okay, at least?” Karl asks. His brown eyes are fully open now, and locked onto me. I nod, and before I can muster a verbal response, he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips against mine.

He’s soft and sweet, like coming home on a cold winter’s day where the fire is crackling and hot cocoa is waiting on the table. God, how I missed this.

When we finally pull apart, there are tears in my eyes. “I forgive you, you know,” I whisper. “For the serum.”

Karl’s eyes widen slightly. “Abby, you don’t—”

“No. Let me finish.” I take in a shuddering breath and meet his gaze squarely, although his face is distorted by the tears in my eyes. “I… I was so angry over what you did. I felt like you blatantly ignored my wishes, deprived me of my agency of choice. But…”

I pause, licking my lips and swallowing.

“But when I saw those two lines on that pregnancy test, when I saw the look of remorse in your eyes at the gala, and now, seeing you like this…” I gesture to his bloody abdomen. “I know now how much you care. The lengths you’ll go to to make me happy, even if it seems misguided or stupid or dangerous. And… I love you, Karl.”

Karl blinks at me in shock for a moment. The blue and red lights are closer now, flooding through the window and casting his face in their muted hues.

“I love you too, Abby,” he whispers. “Forever.”

But then he furrows his brow and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. His red fingertips stain the fresh white as he carefully unfolds it, then hands it to me. “Did you write this?”

I squint as I take the paper from his fingers and read what’s written on it. A letter from me, signed with my own signature—telling Karl that I never want to see him again.

“I didn’t write this,” I say slowly. “Although it looks like my handwriting.”

Karl swallows, although from nerves or pain, I can’t quite tell. “You’re sure?” he asks.

I furrow my brow and reread the letter. The words do seem familiar, now that I think of it… And as I wrack my brain, a faint memory begins to float to the surface.

The night that I bumped into Damon and dropped my pregnancy test. Yes, I remember it now. I remember the way he grabbed my shoulders, shoved a pen and a paper in my hand, and told me to write.

“It all feels so foggy,” I find myself saying. “But I do remember it now. I think… I think Damon made me write it. But how…?”

Karl curses under his breath. “The power of authority,” he murmurs. “He used it on you at the gala, didn’t he? When you went silent?”

Recognition and disgust washes over me at his words. “Yes. And I think he used it on me tonight, too. To get me in the cell. Like a…”

“Puppet,” Karl finishes for me. He crumples up the note again and shoves it back in his pocket; who knows if we might need to save it for evidence, although right now I’d rather see it turn to ash in the fire. “Don’t worry. He’ll never use it on anyone again.”

I feel like I might retch now, and it’s all I can do to draw in a shaky breath to calm myself. But there’s still more that needs clarifying. “You didn’t trash Damon’s study, did you?” I ask.

Karl shoots me a look of pure confusion, and that’s when my suspicions are confirmed; yet another one of Damon’s tricks, just as I thought earlier.

But before I can say anything else, the door is bursting open. Edgar, a few guards, the police, and even John stride in.

What happens next is a blur. Statements are made, lies are revealed, Karl’s wound is uncovered. The room is awash in blue and red lights, the sounds of walkie-talkies, Damon’s pathetic cries and whimpers.

Just before I follow Karl and the EMTs into the ambulance for a long ride to the hospital, I get to watch Damon put in cuffs. I get to see the snot run down his chin, get to hear the sounds of his pathetic pleading and empty threats.

“My father will hear about this!” he cries out. “My father will…”

But then he’s gone, locked behind the door of a police car. His cries grow muffled, and are soon drowned out by the sounds of voices and engines.

And all I can do before I follow Karl into the ambulance is shake my head in pity at this so-called ‘prince’.