Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 161

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Chapter 0161

Karl

It’s almost midnight when I put my car in park in the dimly lit alleyway, and I can’t believe I’m here right

now.

“Abby will see how much you care once you get these for her,” my wolf says, satisfied.

“Yeah,” I answer out loud as I cautiously get out of the car. “We’ll see about that.”

Two days ago, I finally found a lead on those truffles for Abby. I found the dealer through a sketchy

website, but he seemed legitimate enough. I just hope that it goes well, and like my wolf said, that Abby

sees how much I care after this.

My eyes dart around, taking in the cracked asphalt and graffiti-covered walls. The shady location

couldn’t be further from what I expected when it comes to cooking ingredients, but desperate times call

for desperate measures, I guess.

“You Karl?” A raspy voice pulls me from my thoughts. A tall, skinny man almost seems to materialize

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from the shadows, his eyes shifty, avoiding direct eye contact.

“That’s me,” I respond, my voice tight. “You said you had the truffles?”

“Real European truffles,” he stresses, pulling out a vacuum-sealed bag from the depths of his tattered

coat. “Best you’ll find in the city.”

The package looks genuine enough, but something about this guy is setting off alarm bells in my head.

“You mind if I inspect them first?”

The man hesitates, his eyes narrowing. “Erm, sure,” he finally says, handing me the package. “But they

are genuine.”

I open the seal just enough to get a sense of the aroma and the texture; not that I really know what I’m

doing, but I think I have a fairly good sense of what fancy mushrooms should look and smell like.

But the moment I do, it hits me. The smell is all wrong. They’re earthy, but there’s something off about

the scent. It almost smells like chemicals. Frowning, I run my finger along one of the mushrooms, and

make a face when it comes away black.

“What the hell is this?” I ask flatly, locking my eyes with his.

The man’s face seems to twitch uncomfortably. “They’re black truffles. Just like you asked for.”

“These aren’t even real mushrooms, let alone black truffles,” I growl, feeling a rush of anger. “You trying

to scam me? Like I’m gonna pay ten grand for some mulch or whatever the hell this is?”

“Listen, I—”

But I’ve already lunged forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him close, my other hand

sn atching back the money from his pocket. “Bad move,” I say through clenched teeth.

His eyes widen with what I finally recognize as fear. “Okay, okay, take it,” he stammers. “Just—just let

me go.”

I shove him back, my eyes still locked onto his. “Don’t let me see your face again.”

My heart is pounding as I walk back to my car, the adrenaline gradually dissipating, leaving behind a

surge of disappointment. All of this… over truffles? What kind of weird black market sh it is this?

But most importantly, I can’t go back to Abby empty-handed. Not after everything. I promised that we’d

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get those truffles for her, and I’ll find them if it’s the last thing I do.

I lean against my car for a moment, taking deep breaths to steady myself. The failure stings, a harsh

reminder of how much I’ve screwed up, not just tonight, but in so many ways, for so long. I have to set

this right, not just for my sake, but for Abby’s.

And that’s when it hits me—Adam. From what I hear, his restaurant has been thriving ever since I

helped him out with some… quality ingredients. Maybe, just maybe, he can point me in the right

direction.

I take out my phone, my fingers hovering over the call button before I stop myself. No, this needs to be

done in person. I put the car in gear, and swallow my pride before making my way toward the last place

I thought I’d ever visit again.

…

I push open the glass door to Adam’s restaurant, and am immediately hit with a strange feeling in the

pit of my stomach.

I haven’t been here in a while; not since I gave Adam those rare ingredients to convince him to leave

Abby. Now, I’m the one in search of rare ingredients. Ironic, isn’t it?

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