Wolfless, Unbroken Abandoned novel Chapter 89

Chapter 89

Det 5

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The sharp crack of a slap shattered the quiet night, echoing starkly down the empty corridor. The sound rang clear and cruel, cutting through the stillness like a knife. Larkin turned his head slowly, almost in disbelief, and lifted his hand to his cheek, where a sharp sting burned freshly.

“That was quite a slap,” he murmured, voice low, carrying an edge of surprise.

Georgia’s hand trembled slightly, but her gaze burned with fierce resolve. The raw satisfaction of retaliation coursed through her veins, warming the chill that clung to her skin. “Mr. Nash,” she said, voice steady despite the trembling, “you love to rub salt into other people’s wounds, don’t you? Well, now you know what it feels like. It hurts.”

Without waiting for his response, she spun on her heel and strode up the stairs, the echo of her footsteps mixing with the fading sting in the air. Larkin remained motionless, fingers still pressed against his burning cheek, his eyes dark and unreadable as they followed her retreating figure until it vanished from sight.

Eventually, he descended the staircase, slipped quietly out of the neighborhood, and slid into the sleek sports car parked nearby. The warmth of the leather seat contrasted sharply with the burning on his face. His fingers returned instinctively to the reddened skin, and he exhaled slowly, a sound more like a sigh than a breath. “It really does hurt,” he admitted softly.

Larkin pulled out his phone and dialed, “Mason, he said without preamble.

“What time do you think it is?” Mason’s voice crackled through the line, heavy with irritation.

Larkin ignored the complaint, cutting straight to the point. “Someone hit me.”

Mason’s tone shifted immediately, professional and alert. “Which pack? How many? Can you handle them?”

Larkin heard the rustle of Mason pulling on clothes in the background.

“Just one,” Larkin replied.

“One? Really?” Mason frowned, puzzled. He s Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! ex of fighters in Gabbs, trying to place who could have taken on Larkin alone–and maybe won. None came to mind. His voice dropped uncertainly. “Preston?”

“No,” Larkin answered dryly. “I mean I was slapped.”

Mason’s confusion deepened. “By who?”

“The prey,” Larkin said, excitement threading his words. “The one told you about. Mason, I’m more intrigued by this prey with every passing day. I want to leave a mark on her–a scar so deep, so personal, she won’t let anyone else touch it.”

Mason cut him off, valce urgent. “Larkin, do you realize what you’re doing?You’re playing with fire.”

“Enough.” Larkin smiled, the sound carrying a dangerous edge. “I’m driving now. Talk–later.”

“Stop it. Now! Do you hear me?”

The line went dead mid–sentence, replaced by a harsh busy tone.

Mason slammed his phone onto the mattress in frustration.

Money gnawed relentlessly at her thoughts. “What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I push away the only rich man who might help? He’s probably my only chance at getting that million.”

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