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

not your fault.” I give her shoulder a

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

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

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

about them, and my heart sinks. They must

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

I’m worthy of her

myself

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

his arms over

Yes,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “They tripped one

and there was damage

accusations, perhaps even threats of a

a tired look with

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

responsibility in them, but teenagers will

excuse mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in.

beyond a joke.

reaction I was expecting, but

lifting off my shoulders.

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

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

be willing. A week of

should drive the message

ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want

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

causing trouble and not expect to deal

kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His

a

agree

an

extending a hand to each parent. “I

in a kitchen. I would know.” He glances at me, winking subtly. My

gaze to

the man says, shaking Karl’s

presumably to have a serious chat with

the bar, suddenly drained but

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

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

chock full of surprises.”

me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises are good, don’t you

I murmur, realizing the truth in his words. Maybe it’s the