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

as I approach. “All that

not your fault.” I give her shoulder a squeeze. “Little

while, I help pick up the slack in the dining area

it’s not long before the front door

all that I need to know:

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

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

whether I’m worthy of her

reply, bracing myself

washing dishes? Something

arms over

lump in my throat. “They tripped

and there was damage to

outburst, the accusations, perhaps even

exchanging a tired look with

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

responsibility in them, but teenagers will

doesn’t excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes

a joke.

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

lifting off my shoulders.

of my… cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to help clean up,” I

cautiously, gauging their response.

nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In fact,

A week of scrubbing your kitchen and doing whatever tasks

should drive the

stunned. “I wouldn’t

me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You

and not expect to deal

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

a smile breaking through my

explain. “They agree with your

for an

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

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

my gaze to

the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

presumably to have a

against the bar, suddenly drained

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

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

chock full of surprises.”

his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises are

truth in his words.