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

as

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

help pick up the slack in the

before the front door

glance at them tells me all that I need to know: they have that classic

my heart sinks.

the woman asks,

worthy of her

reply, bracing myself for a potential scolding—or worse, pressing

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

his arms

I say, swallowing the lump in my throat.

and there was damage to

accusations, perhaps even threats of

tired look

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

them, but teenagers

chimes in. “They told us

goes beyond a

the reaction I was expecting, but it’s

lifting off my shoulders.

a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

be willing. A week of scrubbing your kitchen and

fit should drive the message

I ask, stunned. “I

assures me. “It’s about

and not expect to deal with the

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

subtly, a

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

an

parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust me,

He glances at me, winking subtly. My face flushes red, and

gaze

man

walk toward the kitchen, presumably to have a serious chat with their

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but

to me, his shoulder barely touching mine.

escaping my lips. “But

chock full of surprises.”

me, his eyes warm and

realizing the truth in his words.