Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Karl

“God, Abby, where are you?” I murmur.

I'm driving carefully along the route that Abby would have taken, my knuckles white on the steering wheel as I peer through the blinding snowstorm. Panic tightens my chest with each passing moment. She should have been back hours ago, and the storm has only worsened as the time has passed.

“She had to have taken this route,” my wolf explains. “She's taken it countless times before.”

I sigh. “I know,” I reply out loud. It just doesn't make sense, though; if Abby had to stay at the shopping center because of the snowstorm, then she would have called me. The only scenario I can think of where she wouldn't have called me is if she wound up somewhere with no service or...

If she’s hurt.

My heart pounds with the thought of that option. I shake my head as if to dispel the thought; no. I won't believe that Abby's hurt. She probably just pulled over somewhere, and I'm bound to find her soon.

Then, as I round a bend, I finally catch sight of a car half-buried in a snow-filled ditch. My heart leaps in my chest when I realize that it's the car I loaned Abby earlier. She has to be sitting inside, waiting.

She's smart enough to know to do that. She knows I would always come for her, no matter what. With a lighter feeling in my chest, I park my own car a safe distance away and trudge through the knee-deep snow towards her car.

The wind howls around me as I knock on the window. “Abby? It's me. Are you okay?”

But there's no response. The car is dark, and the door doesn't open. I can't see the interior of the car through the ice, and thinking that maybe she curled up and fell asleep while waiting for help, I open the door, my breath forming icy clouds.

But then my heart drops.

The car is empty, and my fear spikes. “Abby?” I call out, my voice swallowed by the storm.

There's no response, and I quickly scan the interior. She's not laying down in the back. All that's left is a shopping bag sitting on the back seat and a discarded emergency thermal blanket. Her purse is sitting on the passenger seat, and with a frown, I pick it up and rifle through it.

“Her phone is gone,” I mutter, tossing the bag back down onto the seat. “Wallet, too. Maybe she left?”

Frowning, I straighten up and look around. And then I see it: footprints leading from her car out into the middle of the road.

My heart races as I follow the tracks, my boots sinking into the deep snow. Beside the footsteps, I see tire tracks, and it becomes apparent that someone picked her up. The realization sends a chill down my spine. Abby would never willingly get into a stranger's car, especially in weather like this. But, maybe she really needed help. I shouldn't just assume the worst right off that bat.

However, I can't deny the feeling of dread in my stomach as I climb back into my car and follow the quickly-fading tire tracks. I hope that I find her somewhere, safe and sound, but something tells me that it won't be that simple.

After what feels like an eternity, I spot the glow of a gas station in the distance. My heart leaps with hope, and I pick up the pace, my tires skidding through the snow.

I reach the gas station, and the attendant inside looks up as I enter.

“Hey, did you see a woman come in here?” I ask, my voice urgent. “About this tall, strawberry blonde hair, wearing a blue jacket?”

The attendant, a middle-aged man with a worn-out expression, shakes his head. “No, sir, I haven't seen anyone in here for hours. This weather's keeping folks away.”

I run a hand through my hair, my frustration building. “Are you sure? It's important. She might be in danger.”

The attendant's expression softens, and he leans forward, his voice lowered. “Look, I've been here all night, and no one’s come in. I;d have noticed, especially in this storm. Maybe she found shelter somewhere else.”

My heart sinks, and I thank the man before heading back out into the storm. The tire tracks from whatever car Abby got into are barely visible now, covered by a fresh layer of snow. I curse under my breath, my mind racing for a plan.

I climb into my car and start the engine, hoping that maybe I can pick up her trail again. The snowfall shows no signs of letting up, and my anxiety only grows. I drive slowly, scanning the sides of the road for any clues.

What feels like hours but is really only a few minutes passes, and there's still no sign of Abby or the vehicle that took her. The tire tracks have disappeared entirely, swallowed by the relentless snowstorm. Desperation gnaws at me, and I realize that I need help.

I spot another gas station up ahead and pull into the parking lot. This time, there's a different attendant behind the counter, a young woman with a tired expression.

I rush inside, my breaths coming fast. “Please, have you seen a woman?" I blurt out without preamble. “She might have come in here recently.”

The attendant looks up, her eyes widening as she takes in my disheveled appearance. “I haven't seen anyone, sir. Is everything okay?”

I shake my head, my voice tight with worry. “No, it's not. She went off the road in the storm, and I think someone picked her up.”

The attendant's expression shifts to one of concern, and she leans closer. “Tell me everything you know. Maybe I can help.”

I quickly explain the situation, from finding Abby's car in the ditch to the tire tracks leading away. The attendant listens intently, her eyes thoughtful.

“Listen,” she says, “it's possible that someone picked her up. But I haven't seen anyone come in here all night, not with this storm.”

As she speaks, I let out a soft curse under my breath.

“Should I call the police, sir?” the attendant asks.

I almost nod, but then realize that the snowstorm is so bad there's no way the police are gonna make it out here for at least a few hours. So, instead, I shake my head and pull my jacket closer around my shoulders, preparing to go back out into the cold.

“I'll find her,” I say, taking one last look at the attendant.”

The attendant, realizing my predicament, nods. “What's her name, just in case?” she asks, shooting me a quizzical look.

"Abby. Tell her to stay here, and that Karl is looking for her.”

Before I can gauge the attendant’s response, I'm already pushing back out into the snow, where the blizzard hasn't let up one bit. I take a moment, staring down the dark, snow-covered road, my heart pounding in my chest.

I don't know where Abby could have gone, but I know one thing: if I don't find her very soon, she might be in grave danger.