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 give

the slack in the dining area to relieve some of the

the front door swings open, and a couple strides

need to know: they have that classic

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

the woman asks, her eyes scanning

worthy of

bracing myself for a

here, washing dishes?

arms over his

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

was damage to our

perhaps even threats of a

a tired look with

deal with this,” she says, shaking

in them, but teenagers

pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told

a joke. Someone

the reaction I was expecting, but

lifting off my shoulders.

my… cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In

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

fit should drive

ask, stunned. “I

not an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about

causing trouble and not expect

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

subtly, a smile breaking

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

for an

extending a hand to each parent. “I appreciate

kitchen. I would know.” He glances at me, winking

my gaze to

settled,” the man says,

walk toward the kitchen, presumably to have a serious chat

lean against the bar,

his shoulder barely touching mine.

laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days have

chock full of surprises.”

warm and comforting. “Some surprises are good, don’t

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