Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 240

Abby

The air in the studio feels dense with anticipation as Karl and I walk back to our station together. The crowd murmurs as they become aware of the implications: that only Daniel and I are returning, and Bryan, the third contestant, is nowhere to be found despite the fact that the winners of the second round were never officially announced.

“You okay?” Karl murmurs as we take our spots, standing next to each other with our shoulders touching.

I nod and shrug at the same time, a sense of guilt and trepidation washing over me. “Yes. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know,” I murmur, clearing my throat subtly.

Karl shoots me a confused look from beneath his blue surgical mask. “What does that mean?” he asks, worry lacing his voice.

I can’t contain my sigh. “It means that, if it weren’t for Bryan’s mother dying, I wouldn’t be standing here right now,” I say quietly. “And I’m not sure how to feel about it, if I’m being honest.”

Karl is silent for a moment before he speaks. “Listen, Abby, I know it’s a shock. But—”

Suddenly, before he can finish, the director holds up his fingers and begins counting down from three. The stage falls silent, and the cameras begin rolling.

The announcer makes his way across the stage, his face more somber now than it was before. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he starts, “before we proceed to the final round, we have an announcement to make.”

My fingers are curled tightly around the edge of my station. I can feel Daniel’s eyes on me, intense and unyielding, even as we face the crowd. A quick glance over at him only serves to prove me right; his eyes are still glinting with that malicious sort of glee. Jerk.

“Bryan will not be joining us for the final round,” the announcer continues. Murmurs ripple through the live audience. “Due to a personal tragedy, he has chosen to withdraw.”

The murmur turns into a low hum, the audience looking around at one another. The announcer continues. “Bryan’s mother has passed away. Let us have a moment of silence.”

As the silence stretches over the crowd, I feel my head bow all on its own. It feels strange, being a finalist only due to a death. A wave of guilt washes over me, knowing that I don’t belong here after my performance in the second round.

Finally, the announcer clears his throat and continues. “Now… the final round will be the biggest test of skill,” he announces. The atmosphere seems to shift, a mixture of tension and excitement winding through the air again. “Our two finalists will be preparing a dish that is both intricate and savory—farro mafaldine with black truffle butter and mushrooms.”

My heart lurches.

That dish. My dish.

The one I’d practiced until my hands moved with the memory of it, the one for which I had hunted down those elusive truffles as if they were treasure. It can’t be a coincidence. It feels like fate. It feels like a trap.

“No way,” I murmur, my breath hitching in my throat.

Karl leans a little closer. “I thought they weren’t—”

“Me too,” I hiss, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter even harder now. “Trust me, I thought so, too.”

Suddenly, the announcer’s voice booming over the microphone brings us back to the moment at hand.