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 hands

she says as I approach. “All that

not your fault.” I give

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

not long before the front door

tells me all that I need to know: they

my heart sinks.

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

whether I’m worthy of

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

washing dishes?

his arms over his

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

and there was damage

accusations, perhaps even threats of a lawsuit. But instead,

exchanging a tired look with

she says, shaking

but teenagers

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

beyond a joke. Someone

This is not the reaction I was expecting,

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

of scrubbing your kitchen and doing whatever tasks

fit should drive the

stunned. “I

woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson.

expect to deal

his hands on a towel.

I nod subtly, a smile breaking through my

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

an entire

hand to each parent. “I appreciate your understanding.

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

gaze to

settled,” the man says, shaking Karl’s

kitchen, presumably to have a

I lean against the bar, suddenly drained

barely touching mine. “Not what you expected,

say softly, a slight laugh escaping my lips. “But these past couple of days have

chock full of surprises.”

at me, his eyes warm and comforting.

words. Maybe it’s the parents