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

not your fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

up the slack in the dining area to

front door swings open, and a couple strides

all that I need to know: they have that

and my heart sinks. They

this establishment?” the woman asks, her

worthy

myself for

here, washing dishes? Something about a prank?”

his arms over his

say, swallowing the lump in my

there was

perhaps even threats of a lawsuit. But instead,

a tired

says, shaking her head. “We’ve been trying to

them, but teenagers will

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

goes beyond a

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

lifting off my shoulders.

it would be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

toward the

if you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing

should drive

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

me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You

and not expect to deal with the

the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes meet

subtly, a smile breaking through

are the parents,” I explain. “They agree

an entire

“I appreciate your understanding. Trust me, there’s

glances at me, winking subtly. My face

gaze to my

the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

the kitchen, presumably to have

the bar, suddenly drained

shoulder barely touching

softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days

chock full of surprises.”

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

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