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

sorry, Abby,” she says as I approach.

your fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze.

in the dining area to relieve some of the anxiety from

front door swings open, and a couple

I need to know: they have that

and my heart

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

I’m worthy of her

reply, bracing myself for a potential scolding—or

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

arms over his

the lump in my throat. “They tripped

there was damage

even threats of a

tired

you have to deal with this,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve been trying

them, but teenagers will be teenagers,

pranks,” the man chimes

beyond a joke. Someone

This is not the reaction I was

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

be willing. A week of

should drive the message

you sure?” I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

woman assures me. “It’s about

trouble and not expect to deal with the

his hands on

nod subtly, a smile breaking through my

these are the parents,” I explain. “They agree with your punishment. Actually,

an entire

hand to each parent. “I

know.” He glances

my gaze to my

the man

to have a serious chat

I lean against the bar, suddenly drained but also immeasurably

shoulder barely

I say softly, a slight laugh escaping my

chock full of surprises.”

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

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