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

she says as I approach.

not your fault.” I give her

up the slack in

long before the front door swings open, and a

to know: they have that

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

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

worthy of

bracing myself for a potential

dishes? Something about a

arms over

swallowing the lump in my throat. “They tripped one of my waitresses. She’s

and there was damage to

perhaps even threats

tired

says, shaking her

responsibility in them, but

chimes in. “They told us it was a

beyond a joke. Someone got

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

lifting off my shoulders.

cooks, thought it would be a fitting

cautiously, gauging their response.

The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In

you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing

fit should drive the message

ask, stunned.

me. “It’s about time they learn a

and not expect to deal with

the kitchen, wiping his hands

nod subtly, a

“They agree with

for an entire

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

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

my gaze

man says,

the parents walk toward the kitchen, presumably to have a

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but also

barely touching mine. “Not what you

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

chock full of surprises.”

warm and comforting. “Some surprises

I murmur, realizing the truth in his words.