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

Abby,” she says as I

give her shoulder a

the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the

before the front door

glance at them tells me all that I need to know: they have that

air about them, and my heart

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

I’m worthy of her

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for a

washing dishes?

his arms over his

lump in my throat. “They tripped one of

was damage to our

outburst, the accusations, perhaps even threats

exchanging a tired look with her

this,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve been

but teenagers will

excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes

goes beyond a

is not 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.

looking toward the kitchen.

willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing

fit should drive the message

I ask, stunned.

imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they

trouble and not expect to deal with

then, Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

I nod subtly, a

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

for an

to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust me, there’s a

glances at me, winking subtly. My face flushes

my gaze to my

settled,” the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

to have a

bar, suddenly drained

to me, his shoulder barely

escaping my lips. “But these past couple

chock full of surprises.”

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

I murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up