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

as I approach.

fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze.

I help pick up the slack in the

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

need to know: they have that classic “I’d like to

air about them, and my heart

owner of this establishment?” the woman asks,

worthy of her

myself for a potential scolding—or worse,

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

his arms over his

lump in my throat. “They tripped one

was

accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit. But

exchanging a tired

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

responsibility in them, but teenagers will

excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was a joke,

beyond a joke. Someone got

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

lifting off my shoulders.

thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

if you’d be willing. A week of

fit should drive

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

woman assures me. “It’s about

causing trouble and not expect to deal with the

from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His

I nod subtly, a smile

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

for an

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

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

gaze

it’s settled,” the man says,

kitchen, presumably to

against the bar, suddenly drained

next to me, his shoulder barely touching mine.

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

chock full of surprises.”

at me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some

his words. Maybe