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

says as I approach.

give her shoulder a

while, I help pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some of

not long before the front door swings

need to

them, and my heart sinks. They

woman asks, her eyes scanning me up

worthy of

bracing myself for a

they’re here, washing dishes? Something about

his arms

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

was damage to our

the accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit.

a tired look with

deal with this,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve been trying to

in them, but teenagers will be

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

beyond a joke. Someone

reaction I

lifting off my shoulders.

a fitting punishment for them to help

cautiously, gauging their response.

punishment indeed.” The man nods, looking toward the kitchen. “In fact, we’d like to

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

fit should drive the message

stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

about time they

not expect to

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

I nod subtly, a smile

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

an

a hand to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding.

kitchen. I would know.” He glances at

gaze

the man says, shaking

the kitchen, presumably to have a serious

bar, suddenly drained but also

shoulder barely

slight laugh escaping my lips.

chock full of surprises.”

warm and

words. Maybe it’s the parents owning up to