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 hands

sorry, Abby,” she says as I approach.

your fault.” I give her shoulder

slack in the dining area to relieve

not long before the front door swings open, and a couple

that I need to

and my heart sinks.

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

whether I’m worthy of her

reply, bracing myself for

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

arms over

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

was damage

perhaps even threats of a lawsuit.

a tired look with her

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

of responsibility in them, but teenagers will be teenagers, I

pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was a

beyond a joke.

is not the reaction I was expecting, but it’s a

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

The man nods, looking toward

be willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen

fit should drive the

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

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

and not expect to deal

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

subtly, a smile breaking through

“They agree with your

an entire

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

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

my gaze to

man says,

to have a

against the bar, suddenly drained but also

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

at all,” I say softly, a slight laugh escaping my

chock full of surprises.”

at me, his eyes warm and comforting.

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