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

says as I

I give her shoulder

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

the front door swings open, and a couple

them tells me all that I need to know: they

and my heart sinks. They must

the woman asks, her eyes scanning me up and down

worthy of her

I am,” I reply, bracing myself for a potential scolding—or

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

arms over

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

and there was

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

tired look with her

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

of responsibility in them, but teenagers will be teenagers, I

mean-spirited pranks,” the man chimes in. “They

goes beyond a joke.

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

lifting off my shoulders.

it would be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

toward the kitchen. “In

you’d be willing. A week of scrubbing your

should drive

I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to

woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You can’t

not expect to deal with

Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a

a

explain. “They agree with your

for an entire

extending a hand to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding. Trust me,

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

gaze

settled,” the man says, shaking Karl’s hand

toward the kitchen, presumably to have

I lean against the bar, suddenly drained but

shoulder barely touching mine. “Not what you

at all,” I say softly, a slight laugh escaping

chock full of surprises.”

and comforting. “Some surprises are good,

words. Maybe it’s the