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

as I

your fault.” I give her

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

But it’s not long before the front door swings open, and a couple

need to know: they have that

heart sinks.

the woman asks, her eyes scanning me

worthy

bracing myself for a

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

arms over

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

there was damage to our

the outburst, the accusations, perhaps even threats of

a tired look with

to deal with this,” she says, shaking her

of responsibility in them, but teenagers will

chimes

goes beyond a

their words. This is not the reaction I was expecting, but

lifting off my shoulders.

be a fitting punishment for them to help clean

cautiously, gauging their response.

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

of

drive the message

you sure?” I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want

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

not expect to deal

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

nod subtly, a

I explain. “They agree

an

each parent. “I appreciate

He glances

my gaze

man says,

the kitchen, presumably to

lean against the bar, suddenly

barely touching mine. “Not what

escaping my lips. “But these past

chock full of surprises.”

me, his eyes warm and comforting. “Some surprises are good,

in his words. Maybe