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

Abby,” she says as

fault.” I give her shoulder a

the slack in the dining area to

before the front

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

and my heart sinks.

woman asks, her eyes scanning

whether I’m worthy

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for

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

his arms over

my throat. “They

was

for the outburst, the accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit.

a tired

have to deal with this,” she says,

responsibility in them, but teenagers will be teenagers, I

that doesn’t excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They told us it was

goes beyond a joke. Someone

absorbing their words. This is not the reaction I

lifting off my shoulders.

would be a fitting punishment for them

cautiously, gauging their response.

nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In fact, we’d like

employment, if you’d be willing. A week of

drive the message

I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want

not an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good

causing trouble and not expect to deal with the

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

I nod subtly, a smile breaking through

I explain. “They agree with your punishment. Actually, they want to

for an

to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding.

know.” He glances

my gaze to my

it’s settled,” the man

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

lean against the bar, suddenly drained but also immeasurably

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

slight laugh escaping my

chock full of surprises.”

at me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises

murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up to