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

her hands

Abby,” she says as

your fault.” I give her

up the slack in

front door swings open, and

to know: they have that classic “I’d

about them, and my heart sinks. They must be the

woman asks, her

worthy of her

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for

they’re here, washing dishes? Something about a prank?” the man

his arms over

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

there was damage to

perhaps even threats of a

tired look with

says, shaking her head. “We’ve been

them, but teenagers will be

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

a joke.

the reaction I was expecting, but it’s a relief, like

lifting off my shoulders.

of my… cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

if you’d be willing. A week of

fit should drive

stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

woman assures me. “It’s about time they

causing trouble and not expect to deal with the

then, Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his

a smile breaking through

“They agree with your punishment. Actually, they want

for an entire

to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust

a kitchen. I would know.” He glances at me, winking subtly. My

my gaze to my

the man says, shaking

toward the kitchen, presumably to

against the bar, suddenly drained

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

I say softly, a slight laugh escaping my

chock full of surprises.”

warm and comforting.

his words. Maybe it’s