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

sorry, Abby,” she says as I

not your fault.” I give

pick up the slack in the dining area to relieve some

long before the front

glance at them tells me all that I need to know: they have

air about them, and my heart sinks. They must be the

the woman asks, her eyes scanning me up and down

whether I’m worthy of

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

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

his arms over his

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

was damage

outburst, the accusations, perhaps even

exchanging a tired look with her

with this,” she says, shaking her head.

responsibility in them, but teenagers will be teenagers, I

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

beyond a

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

lifting off my shoulders.

one of my… cooks, thought it would be a fitting punishment for them to

cautiously, gauging their response.

indeed.” The man nods, looking toward

be willing. A week of scrubbing

should drive the

stunned. “I

an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You can’t

not expect to

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

subtly, a smile

I explain. “They agree

for an

“I appreciate your understanding. Trust me, there’s a lot

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

my gaze to my

settled,” the man says, shaking Karl’s

the parents walk toward the kitchen, presumably to have a serious chat with their d

I lean against the bar,

leans next to me, his shoulder barely touching

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

chock full of surprises.”

and

in his words. Maybe it’s