Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 79: Mean Spirited
Abby

The lunchtime rush is finally easing up. Much unlike yesterday, it’s been a smooth day so far, and I feel

relieved; but that’s exactly when it happens.

I’m scanning the restaurant floor, making sure everything is running smoothly, when I hear the crash.

It’s a shocking mix of the sound of ceramic shattering, gasps, and the thud of a body hitting the floor,

followed by a loud “Ow!”

My heart lurches into my throat as I rush over to see one of my waitresses, Sarah, sprawled on the

ground amid a mess of broken dishes and spilled food.

“What happened?” I ask, my eyes darting around the room, locking onto a group of snickering

teenagers at a nearby table.

“I saw it,” Karl says, striding past me. “Those little s hits tripped her. Deliberately.”

In seconds, he’s at their table, his face dark with anger. “You think that was funny? Get up.”

“It was an accident!” one of the kids says, feigning innocence. But it’s clear that he’s full of sh it. They all

are.

I kneel beside Sarah, who’s clutching her wrist, her face pale. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“I think so,” she mumbles, grimacing as she attempts to move. I call over two other employees to clean

the mess and guide Sarah to a chair.

Karl reappears, dragging the shame-faced teenagers behind him. “Apologize,” he commands, his voice

icy. They mumble sca ttered apologies, looking anywhere but at Sarah or me.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Karl continues. “You’re washing dishes for the rest of the night. And if I see any of

you around here again causing trouble, you’re going to wish you never set foot in this place.”

“Karl, you can’t—” I begin, but my voice trails off with a look from Karl. A look I know all too well, one

that embodies his spirit of an Alpha.

I watch the teenagers slink off to the kitchen, led by Karl. The room is quiet now; even the low hum of

conversations has died down. But my focus is on Sarah, who is sitting by the bar and wiping tears from

eyes, her

says as I approach. “All

give her shoulder a

little while, I help pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some of

the front door swings open, and a

tells me all that I need to know: they have that classic “I’d like to

them, and my heart sinks. They must be the

owner of this establishment?” the woman asks, her eyes scanning me up and

whether I’m worthy of her

bracing myself for a potential scolding—or

here, washing dishes? Something

arms

say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “They tripped one of my waitresses.

and there was damage to

for the outburst, the accusations, perhaps even threats of

tired look with

she says, shaking her head. “We’ve

in them, but

that doesn’t excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was

a joke.

blink, absorbing their words. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s a relief, like

lifting off my shoulders.

would be a fitting punishment for

cautiously, gauging their response.

nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In fact, we’d like

willing. A week of

fit should drive the message

you sure?” I ask, stunned.

me. “It’s about time they

trouble and not expect to deal with the

emerges from the kitchen, wiping his

nod subtly, a smile breaking

the parents,” I explain. “They agree with your punishment. Actually, they want to

an entire

parent. “I

would know.” He glances at me, winking subtly. My face flushes

my gaze to

man says,

kitchen, presumably to

the bar, suddenly drained

leans next to me, his shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what you

slight laugh escaping my lips.

chock full of surprises.”

me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises are

truth in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up to their